Chapter 3

Helen's POV

It was a blatant slap in the face to every loyal soldier who had bled for that territory, but I couldn't bring myself to care anymore.

My body was failing. The ten-year-old poison was ravaging my organs, and I knew my time was running out.

I had one final, desperate wish before the end. I needed my father’s antique custom Browning pistol back—the sacred Cole family heirloom that Nicholas kept in his vault.

The next day, I dialed his private number.

He answered on the fourth ring. "Are you finally calling to beg, Helen?"

"I want my father’s gun," I rasped, my throat burning with every syllable. "Have Calvin bring it to me. Then we are entirely done."

A harsh, mocking laugh echoed through the receiver.

"You think you can make demands?" Nicholas snapped, his voice tight with sudden, irrational annoyance because I still refused to bow my head to him.

"Nicholas, it’s my father's," I whispered, clutching my agonizing chest. "Please."

"If you want the Browning, come to the main headquarters and get it yourself," he ordered coldly. "Show some actual respect for once instead of throwing tantrums."

The line went dead.

I dragged my failing, feverish body across the city through the relentless rain.

I pushed open the doors of the Sterling syndicate headquarters.

Nicholas was sitting at the head of the conference table, casually polishing a scotch glass. He didn't even look up when I stumbled in.

"You look pathetic," he sneered, finally glancing at my soaked, decaying state. "Playing the dying victim again?"

"The gun, Nicholas," I gasped, leaning heavily against the doorframe just to stay upright. "Give it to me. I'm leaving."

He slammed his glass onto the table, his eyes flashing with sudden rage. "Why are you so damn stubborn? Just admit you faked that asthma attack at the casino out of jealousy!"

Before I could form a response, the double doors behind me violently burst open.

Calvin sprinted into the room. His face was entirely devoid of color, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.

"Boss! It’s the waterfront warehouse!" Calvin yelled, his voice cracking with pure panic.

Nicholas shot to his feet, instantly forgetting my existence. "What about it? Valerie is down there inspecting the new route."

"It’s on fire!" Calvin screamed. "A massive explosion! Valerie was kidnapped by a rogue crew and trapped inside the blaze!".

The blood completely drained from Nicholas’s face. He grabbed Calvin by the collar. "What did you just say?!"

"And there's more," Calvin hesitated, his wide eyes darting toward me with a mixture of horror and disbelief.

"Spit it out, Calvin!" Nicholas roared, shaking his lieutenant.

Calvin pulled out a charred tablet, his hands shaking as he swiped to a security log. "The mercenaries who hit the warehouse... they left evidence behind."

Calvin swallowed hard, taking a step back. "The digital trail, the burner phone logs, the wire transfers... they all point to Helen."

The room went dead silent. The only sound was my own ragged, wheezing breath.

"The logs show she ordered the hit and bought the accelerants thirty minutes ago," Calvin finished weakly.

Nicholas slowly turned his head to look at me.

"Nicholas, no," I choked out, shaking my head weakly. "I just got here. I barely have the strength to stand..."

"You vindictive, jealous bitch!" Nicholas bellowed, his voice vibrating with uncontrollable fury.

He didn't listen to a single word of my defense.

In his mind, my guilt was already absolute. He genuinely believed I was so consumed by jealousy that I had orchestrated a brutal murder.

"She took a route, so you tried to burn her alive?!" he screamed, storming across the room toward me.

"I didn't do it!" I cried out, coughing up a spatter of dark blood onto the floorboards. "Valerie is setting me up! Look at me, Nicholas!"

"Shut your mouth!" he roared.

He lunged forward, his massive hands wrapping around my bruised throat.

He slammed me against the wall, cutting off my air entirely. Black spots violently danced across my vision.

"If Valerie loses so much as a single strand of hair in that fire," Nicholas hissed, his breath hot against my face, his eyes totally devoid of mercy.

He tightened his grip, completely ignoring the fact that I was already suffocating on my own blood.

"I will make you wish you died in that crossfire ten years ago."