Meanwhile…
A black car with tinted windows quietly rolled down a dark alley in the ghetto suburbs of the city.
It came to a stop at the end, the engine and lights shutting off, leaving it waiting silently in the dark.
Inside, a figure sat with a cigar perched between his fingers, drawing from it and puffing smoke into small clouds.
Just then, the door to the back seat opened, and a hooded figure slipped inside swiftly before closing it.
"Your Eminence…" the hooded figure spoke, bowing their head slightly in greeting.
"Mmmm…" the figure with the cigar hummed in a deep voice. "What news do you bring me, Fox? I hope this time it's something worthwhile, not just petty rumors."
Fox sighed, turning his gaze toward the compartment dividing the front and back seats of the car.
"Don't worry, my Lord. This time what I have is far more interesting. So interesting you might not even believe it yourself."
"Oh, really?" the man with the cigar asked. He drew from it, exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, and continued, "Enlighten me…"
"Sinclair's daughter…" Fox began. "Is alive."
Cough! Cough! Cough!
The man with the cigar choked on the smoke, coughing violently before finally composing himself. He turned to Fox, his bloodshot eyes wide with disbelief.
"What!!" he roared in a hoarse voice. "What do you mean she is alive? How is that possible? It can't be!"
"Well, it is impossibly possible, Your Eminence. I saw her today at the palace. She was dancing with the Crown Prince. She's going to participate in the selection as a pardon of the Crown. She is now living under the guise of being Raymond Fortmore's daughter. There's no mistake, Sire. Sinclair's daughter is alive. And that is a big problem," replied Fox.
The man with the cigar placed it carefully in the ashtray, then fixed Fox with an intense stare, shaking his head slowly.
"And here I was… thinking that for once you had brought me good news. But it seems your stupid incompetence still clouds your mind, making you believe in delusions. Fox, I can't believe you."
Fox turned to face His Eminence, disbelief etched across his features at the dismissal of his discovery. "But Your Eminence, I am telling you the truth. Sinclair's daughter is alive—I saw her…"
"Sinclair's daughter is dead, Fox. Dead, and never coming back. I saw her dumped in the cursed forest myself. I was there when they threw her lifeless, bleeding body into that cursed field. I was there when they confirmed her death. She was murdered by a thousand cuts to the body, do you think anyone could survive that? Be real, Fox and stop fantasizing. Ghosts do not exist," said the man called His Eminence.
"But Your Eminence, the woman I saw…" Fox retorted.
"Is indeed Raymond Fortmore's daughter. Have you forgotten, Fox? Huh? Have you forgotten that Raymond's wife, Elizabeth, was Stephanie—Sinclair's wife's twin sister. I heard they were both pregnant at the same time and gave birth to daughters. Raymond's child was sickly and frail, rarely seen outside. He treated her in secret until she was finally nursed back to health. And that is the woman you saw today at the palace," His Eminence declared.
He then took a deep breath and gazed out the window. "But it is still a problem. This woman is a threat to the deal I made with Dinkley. And right now, with the blue diamond roses impossible to find, we need Dinkley's girl to win the competition more than ever. Otherwise, all will be lost."
"I heard he's looking for them in the abyss. The Scorpion King is his partner. Do you think that's a problem?" asked Fox.
His Eminence took a deep breath, his mind lost in thought for a moment. "I also have a deal with the Scorpion King. So I don't think it's a problem that they're entangled. As long as he doesn't cross him, he'll be safe. But what bothers me is why the Scorpion King aided Dinkley in killing Sinclair's daughter. What exactly did he gain by getting rid of her? It's still a mystery." He paused, rubbing his chin. "Sinclair was the Scorpion King's most trusted partner in both business and power. So why?"
Fox sat rigid, lost in thought as well.
Finally, he sighed and turned to His Eminence. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I didn't know that Sinclair's wife was Raymond's wife's twin sister. I just thought… since we couldn't recover Sinclair's daughter's body from the cursed forest, she might've…"
"What? Risen from the dead?" His Eminence asked with mocking sarcasm.
Fox lowered his head in shame.
"Tsk… it really would be quite a shocking, unbelievable scandal. One that would chill the bones," said His Eminence.
He reached for another cigar, lit it, drew deeply, and puffed out a cloud of smoke.
"Anyway...back to reality. Did you find anything in the debris of the plane crash that could prove Miranda's lover is dead?"
Fox shook his head. "No, my Lord. I didn't find anything. I believe his ashes must already be fish food. We couldn't recover a thing—not even a trace of DNA."
His Eminence froze, his hand holding the cigar suspended in mid-air.
He slowly turned to face Fox. "What do you mean not even a smudge of DNA? Even though he exploded, there has to be something that proves he died on that plane. Unless…"
He paused, lost in thought. He sighed and shook his head. "Get some men and go to Mandras City in Trans. I want you to dig thoroughly into that bloody scoundrel's death. If… he is dead, that is. Find out exactly what happened. Everything."
Fox nodded and bowed. "Right away, Your Eminence."
He shifted to open the door and exit the car.
"Oh, and Fox…" His Eminence called out.
Fox turned back. "Yes, my Lord?"
"Mmm… find someone to keep an eye on Dinkley—especially the wife. She is ruthless but foolish. Her lack of courtesy could cost us our plans dearly. Keep an eye on her… and her mother as well. Last thing we want right now is anymore trouble."
Fox nodded. "Of course, Your Eminence. I will. Goodbye."
He bowed and exited the car.
Left alone, His Eminence drew deeply from his cigar, exhaling the smoke in slow, deliberate streams before pulling out his phone and switching it on.
He typed a message:
"I need your help. I think Montana is still alive, and someone helped him escape the attack on the plane. Try to court one of the Shadow Demons from the Dragon's Lair and see if you can uncover something."
He stopped typing, sent the message, and placed the phone on the seat. Drawing from his cigar again, he puffed out another cloud of smoke.
"I really hope you're dead, Montana. I truly hope you're gone for good. For Dinkley, Slovak, Palvin, and my sake—I hope you're dead, you bastard." His grip tightened around the cigar. "I hope you're dead."
He tapped the dividing compartment, signaling the driver to start the car.
The engine roared to life, and the vehicle reversed out of the alley, disappearing into the night.
Meanwhile, as soon as the car disappeared from sight, a hooded figure emerged from the shadows and walked to the spot where it had been parked.
The figure crouched down and picked up a small black device.
Pressing a button, a voice echoed from it:
"I really hope you are dead, Montana. Really hope you are gone for good. For Dinkley, Slovak, Palvin, and my sake—I hope you are dead, you bastard."
The hooded figure smiled behind the mask, black eyes glowing in the starlight, before turning away. Darkness swallowed him whole.
....
The scent of sweet roses hung in the air, petals strewn across the floor in a trail leading to the canopy bed.
Scented candles flickered, their flames dancing in the breeze that drifted through the curtains, giving the scene a romantic touch.
A presence moved toward the bed, where a beautiful woman lay in golden-red lingerie—sexy, slightly revealing, her body adorned with roses. Her fiery red hair spilled across the sheets, but her face was blurred, save for her golden-brown eyes glinting in the candlelight and her rosy lips.
Sensing the presence, she stirred, moving slowly, seductively toward it.
"Mmm… I knew you hadn't forgotten me," she whispered in a sweet, alluring voice. "I knew you would come back… to fulfill your desperate hunger."
She stepped closer, reaching out her hands to touch the presence. "So… ready to pick up where we left off?"
She bit her lower lip seductively as she leaned in, moving closer to kiss the presence.
The presence closed its eyes, ready to feel the kiss, to taste those rosy lips—
Until a low snicker echoed.
"Tsk… I knew it. You're such a perverted bastard."
The presence immediately opened their eyes, widening in shock at the sight of another beautiful woman. She wore leather lingerie studded with diamond spikes, her wavy black hair styled in a rebellious, bad-girl fashion. Her black eyes glinted with mischief beneath a mask engraved with black flamingos, and her rosy lips were tinted a deep crimson.
She wore black leather gloves and held a whip in her hands, its tip engraved with a vulture.
Rock music pulsed in the background, adding a raw, electric energy to the scene.
She leaned closer, whispering in a sultry, dangerous tone.
"You… have been a very, very bad boy. Time to teach you a lesson…"
The girl snapped her whip at the presence as she stood boldly on the bed, facing them.
The presence felt a surge of hot, burning desire ripping through them—the need to lunge forward, tear away the lingerie, and satisfy themselves with what lay beneath.
But the moment they tried, they couldn't move. Realization dawned.
They were tied to the bed.
Crack!
The girl snapped her whip at them.
"Ah… uh… where do you think you're going, you naughty boy?" she teased, leaning closer. "This time, you're playing by my rules… and there is no escape for you."
Crack!
The whip cracked again.
The sound vibrated through the presence's body like a wave of desire.
It couldn't wait for the show to begin. It wanted to dominate—but sometimes, surrendering to domination made the fun even better.
Well… but only for a while. Eventually, the tables would turn. No one could dominate the beast for long. To be truly satisfied, it would have its way with her.
So, leaning back, the presence decided to surrender to the girl and let her do as she pleased.
"Good boy…" the girl whispered. "I can't promise this won't hurt a bit…" She smiled as she raised her whip.
The presence closed their eyes, bracing for the impact and the pleasure of sensation.
However…
Knock. Knock.
A loud knocking shattered the scene.
Daniel's eyes whipped open, their crimson-red hue burning with fervent rage at the disturbance of his wild dream—his mystery woman and the Flamingo entwined in desire.
Knock. Knock.
"Your Highness… Your Highness," came a whisper from the door.
Knock. Knock.
"Your Highness."
"Grrr… shut up," Daniel growled as he stirred, turning his gaze toward the window. He squinted as the piercing sunlight poked through the curtains, glaring into his eyes.
He groaned, rubbing his face to regain focus.
Knock. Knock.
The knocking continued.
"Your Highness… please… wake up. It's urgent," said the voice from the other side.
"Urrgh… what! What is it!" he growled.
"Forgive me, Your Highness, but we have a situation. It needs your attention," replied the voice.
"Grr… son of a bitc—aaah," Daniel snarled as he whipped himself out of the blankets and off the bed, storming toward the door.
"What!" he roared as he yanked it open, startling the royal guard standing outside.
The guard froze instantly. The Prince looked terrifying—his crimson eyes blazing with fury. Worse still, the standing presence beneath his waistline betrayed the fact that the guard had interrupted something undisturbable. In ancient times, such insolence would have cost him his head.
Even now, the beast's wrath promised torment, and the guard swallowed hard at the thought.
Daniel was so pissed at the guard's slow response that he nearly lashed out—but decided against it. His beast was still aroused from the dream, and he couldn't let it spiral out of control. Straining for composure, he asked again through clenched teeth:
"What is it? What the hell do you want, Sam? What's going on?"
Sam immediately flinched. 'Damn… is this what Blake deals with every day? Sheesh. Now I understand why he took the vacation', he mused, clearing his throat to speak.
"Good morning, Your Highness." He bowed in greeting, but Daniel only glared, making him more nervous.
"Mmm… I'm sorry to wake you so early. But it's urgent."
Daniel sighed, shaking his head. "What is it?"
"It's about Ms. Fortmore," Sam replied.
Immediately, Daniel's ears perked up. "What about her? What is it? Did something happen to her?"
"No, Your Highness. But it will be…" replied Sam.
"What do you mean?" Daniel leaned closer, his domineering presence making Sam shake in his boots.
"Well… well… Your Highness. The thing is…" he stammered.
Something was wrong. Daniel could feel it. The longer Sam stalled, the more agitated he grew.
"Tell me!" he roared.
"There are several royal officials and ministers demanding her removal from the competition! They claim she broke the laws of conduct, violated the rules, and is not allowed to continue. They want her removed," Sam finally blurted out.
"What! But why? She didn't do anything wrong! Why are they petitioning that? Why!" Daniel roared.
"Well… it's because of this, Your Highness." Sam turned on a tablet and handed it to him.
Daniel's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the headline:
The Royal Exposé: Lady Ariel more than a competitor in the selection but also the Crown Prince's fling. Is this the thrill of a hidden romance or a scheme for the Crown?
His crimson eyes deepened as they locked onto the intimate images of him and Ariel at the supermarket, caressing her cheek, Ariel hugging him, exchanging flowers, and their near kiss at the ricecake stall.
Rage bubbled inside him. Rage that demanded release against the one responsible.
'Slovak!!!' he roared in his mind.