Chapter 140

Author’s POV
While Serena waited anxiously in the rest area, events were unfolding rapidly elsewhere in the hotel.
Just above the reception hall, Ryan’s security team had tracked down Derek to one of the hotel rooms.
“What should we do now, Mr. Blackwood?” one of the security personnel asked Ryan through his earpiece, his voice low but urgent.
“Station men at every exit,” Ryan commanded, his voice decisive as he paced the corridor. “Cover the windows too. And call the police—report suspected gambling activities in the room.”
Ryan knew this accusation would bring a swift police response, even without concrete evidence. Once Derek was in custody, at least he’d be off the streets. Most importantly, Serena would be safe from the man who’d been terrorizing her for weeks.
Within minutes, police sirens wailed outside the hotel, their piercing cry cutting through the elegant atmosphere of the gala below. Blue and red lights flashed against the building’s glass exterior, creating an eerie dance of colors.
Lucian West’s eyebrow arched slightly at the commotion. He set down his champagne flute with a soft clink and summoned his assistant with a discreet gesture, his manicured fingers barely moving.
“Where’s Derek?” he demanded, tension evident in his usually smooth voice. A muscle twitched near his temple—a rare sign of distress from the normally composed CEO.
The assistant hesitated, sweat beading on his upper lip. “He should still be in his hotel room, sir. I explicitly warned him not to leave unless absolutely necessary.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened, his composure slipping momentarily. His fingers gripped his empty glass with enough force to nearly shatter it. “Something’s wrong. Check on him immediately.”
After taking two steps toward the exit, Lucian paused, seeming to reconsider.
His eyes darted around the room, calculating. “Get Derek out of there,” he ordered in an urgent whisper. “Use force if necessary. And make sure nobody traces him back to us. Not a single connection, understand?”
His assistant nodded and hurried away, moving with practiced discretion through the crowd of laughing socialites and business associates who remained oblivious to the drama unfolding.
Lucian didn’t follow. Instead, he returned to the gala, casually picking up a fresh drink while calculating his next move.
Ice clinked against crystal as he swirled the amber liquid. His instincts told him Derek had been discovered by Ryan Blackwood’s people.
Going upstairs himself would only confirm the connection between them—a connection Lucian couldn’t afford to have exposed.
Ryan had been suspicious of his motives for weeks.
If Derek fell into Ryan’s hands, the consequences would be disastrous for Lucian’s carefully constructed plans involving both Serena Quinn and Celestial Gems.
Despite the approaching police, Lucian remained confident.
His men outnumbered Ryan’s in this venue. If it came down to a confrontation, he held the advantage in this particular playing field.
Within minutes, his confidence was rewarded.
His assistant returned with welcome news, leaning in close enough that his breath carried the scent of mint and anxiety. “We’ve extracted him, sir. Derek is secure.”
By the time police officers burst into the hotel room, weapons drawn and voices raised, they found nothing but rumpled sheets and empty glasses still warm to the touch.
Lucian swirled his drink, his eyes betraying a cold ruthlessness that contradicted his polished exterior.
The chandelier light caught in his glass, casting prism-like reflections across his face. He leaned close to his assistant, voice barely audible above the orchestra.
“Take care of it. Permanently.”
The assistant gave an almost imperceptible nod before disappearing into the crowd once more, his shoulders set with grim purpose.
Meanwhile, Derek was being shuttled between vehicles, each transfer taking him further from the pursuing security teams.
First a black sedan, then a taxi, and finally a nondescript delivery van. By the third switch, he believed they’d successfully evaded capture.
Slumped against the van’s interior wall, Derek gasped for breath, sweat beading on his forehead and soaking through his expensive shirt despite the cool night air filtering through the van’s vents.
As darkness settled outside, anxiety gnawed at him like a physical presence. Ryan Blackwood had personally targeted him—would Lucian still protect him after this mess?
“Where exactly is Lucian sending me?” Derek asked the man in the passenger seat, trying to mask his growing unease with a casual tone that sounded hollow even to his own ears.
The man turned, his face half-illuminated by passing headlights, revealing a cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Somewhere you won’t need to worry about anything ever again.”
Derek caught the icy glint in the man’s eyes and felt a sudden chill race down his spine. His fingers instinctively clutched the leather seat beneath him. Something wasn’t right.
“But Mr. West promised me money,” Derek protested, his voice rising with desperation, cracking slightly at the end. “Enough to start over abroad. That was our agreement—fifty thousand dollars!”
“Shut up,” the man snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Just sit tight. We’re almost there.” His hand moved slightly, revealing the outline of what appeared to be a weapon holstered under his jacket.
Derek peered through the window at the landscape rushing past.
The city lights had disappeared, replaced by empty fields and occasional skeletal trees silhouetted against the night sky—desolate terrain without witnesses.
The road beneath them had changed from smooth asphalt to uneven gravel, each bump sending a jolt of terror through Derek’s increasingly panicked mind.
After fifteen more minutes of tense silence, broken only by Derek’s increasingly labored breathing, the van finally stopped with a crunch of tires on loose stone.
Derek’s heart hammered against his ribs as panic set in, the metallic taste of fear filling his mouth.
“Why are we stopping? What’s happening?” he demanded, voice cracking as he pressed himself against the door, desperately searching for a handle that wasn’t there.
No one bothered to answer. Two burly men grabbed him by the arms, their fingers digging painfully into his flesh, and dragged him from the van.
His expensive leather shoes scraped helplessly against gravel as he tried and failed to gain purchase.
The passenger from earlier approached with something metallic glinting in his hand—a syringe catching the moonlight. “I found you a nice, quiet spot,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather. “If your ghost comes haunting, don’t blame me. Just following orders from above.” The needle plunged into Derek’s neck with practiced precision.
Derek opened his mouth to scream, but the sound died in his throat as whatever drug they’d injected took immediate effect.
His body suddenly went limp, muscles failing him all at once as he crumpled to the ground beneath the cold, indifferent stars that witnessed his final moments.