Masked In Nobility: Secrets Of Mrs. Chavez
Posted on February 26, 2025 · 1 mins read
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The night sky was dotted with stars, the air cool and carrying the heavy scent of antiseptic. On the hospital rooftop, Dennis slowly opened his eyes. Dazed, he saw a tall, slim figure cloaked in darkness. He thought he was dreaming, but a cool breeze dispelled the illusion. His eyes widened in shock. "Should I be in the ward? Where am I? This can't be a dream," he wondered.

In a trembling voice, he demanded, "Who are you? Why am I here? Where are the police? The officers who were watching me?"

As the figure turned, Dennis couldn't believe his eyes. "You… are you Yvette?" he asked. This was his first in-person encounter; he'd only seen her in photographs. He was utterly shocked.

Yvette stood, clad in black, expressionless, like a merciless killer. Her deep-set eyes, tinged with red, were devoid of emotion; their upward tilt hinted at defiance and wildness. With a faint smirk, she walked unhurriedly toward him, hands in her pockets. Her presence instilled instinctive fear, causing Dennis to recoil.

He recognized her face: identical to Lilian's, a woman he'd personally sent to the lab. "No… they're not the same," he pondered. "Lilian would never have eyes like those." The aging Dennis felt an inexplicable fear, unprecedented in his life.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "Don't come any closer! What trick did you use to bring me here? Did you bribe the police? This is illegal!"

Yvette paused, glancing at him lying on the ground. Seeing her hesitation, Dennis's courage flickered. "If you send me back now," he said angrily, "I can pretend none of this happened."

Yvette's eyes flickered slightly, her expression remaining impassive. She pursed her lips, then sneered, the sound oddly jarring in the silent night. She approached, looking down at him weakly lying on the ground. Her calm gaze hinted at mischief, yet an oppressive pressure filled the air.

In an instant, she effortlessly lifted half his body with one hand and began dragging him toward the rooftop railing. Each step was agonizing; his legs scraped against the rough surface, his thin hospital gown offering no protection. Blood seeped through his knees after only a few steps. He let out a piercing scream, his cries echoing across the rooftop.

Initially, he cursed, but receiving no response, he shifted to pleading, begging for mercy. Yvette's lips curved into a sly smile. By the time they reached the edge, his gown was in tatters, his body drenched in blood. Panting heavily, his voice raspy from his screams, he was too weak to utter a sound. No one would recognize the head of the Smith family, who had once dominated Seacrity's business world for decades.

His body trembled uncontrollably. He pointed a finger at Yvette, his eyes filled with terror. "You… you're a devil! Please, let me go! Spare my life!"

Yvette looked down, a cold, mocking expression on her face. "Dennis," she said, her voice icy, "stop pretending. Someone truly losing their mind wouldn't have the intense hatred in their eyes that you do."

His face cycled through purple, red, and pale. Exposed, he ceased his charade. Resentment was etched on his face. He'd thought to fool her, but she'd seen through his act effortlessly.

"What exactly do you want?" he asked. "Are you avenging the Chambers family? I'm already miserable enough. Haven't you vented your anger?"

Her expression remained cold and detached. A mocking smile played on her lips, malevolence evident in her eyes. She crouched before him, speaking sternly. "Miserable? Have you forgotten burning down a family's home twenty years ago because they wouldn't relocate for your demolition project, resulting in eight deaths? And the Smith Group using substandard materials with high formaldehyde levels in children's rooms, leading to dozens of children developing leukemia? The two families who, after seeking justice in vain, took their own lives? Do you consider yourself a victim? Absurd!"

He froze. As she finished, a chilling sensation washed over him; the faces of those he'd driven to death flashed before his eyes. He felt no remorse; they were insignificant obstacles.

He glared, teeth clenched, neck taut, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "They were ungrateful, inferior. I was born superior. They were obstacles; they deserved death."

Yvette seized his neck, dragging him to the edge. One more step, and he'd plunge from the thirtieth floor. Her stern gaze held a terrifying resolve. With hatred, she said lightly, "Do you know the difference between humans and animals? Only those with a conscience deserve to be called human. But you? You're worse than an animal."

His face flushed, a mixture of fear and anger. He'd always felt superior, yet she dared to call him less than an animal. He suddenly recalled her earlier words and turned pale, using all his strength to glare at her, shock and terror in his eyes.

"It was you," he gasped. "You leaked the Smith family's secrets. The news about me killing that family of eight never got out. How… how did you know?" He wanted a confession, yet also wished she wouldn't; the truth would be more unbearable than death.

Facing his desperate gaze, Yvette stood, her eyes cold and determined. Wiping blood from her hand with a tissue, she said indifferently, "It was me."

He froze, his mind blank. Her words echoed like a siren's call. "Impossible!" he mumbled. "How old are you? I hired the top hacker team from the Mysonna International Hacker Group. They assured me fewer than three people globally could break it. How do you possess this information? Are you lying?"

She squinted, raised an eyebrow, and smiled wickedly. "Oh, didn't Kim Lawson from Group One tell you? I reprogrammed the firewall for fun in my spare time."


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