Free Web NovelChapter 147: Chilling Validation
The luxury sedan rolled through the wrought-iron gates of the Grefo estate, its tires slicing across the driveway with a low, oppressive hum. Inside the cabin, the silence remained unbroken since they left the sterile, clinical horrors of the morgue.
Jannah sat pressed against the passenger door, her left arm held rigidly against her chest in its crude splint, her face turned entirely toward the darkened window. Her eyes were wide, vacant, and completely shattered, staring out at the passing streetlamps without seeing them. The image of her grandfather’s lifeless, cold face—the blue-tinted lips, the rattling gasp that had signaled the final collapse of his frail biology—was permanently burned into her retinas. A bitter, acidic poison churned in her gut, twisting her grief into a dangerous knot of hatred.
Beside her, Dorrent kept one hand gripped firmly on the steering wheel, his eyes frequently darting toward her small, trembling frame. Throughout the grueling journey back from the slums, he had attempted to speak. He had offered words of comfort, his deep voice carrying a rare, raw strain of genuine concern as he promised to unearth the truth, promised that she was safe under his roof, promised that he would take care of everything.
Jannah had ignored every single syllable. She had blocked out the very frequency of his voice, treating his presence like a foul, invasive wind. She didn’t need his comforting words. She didn’t want his pity. She hated him now more than she had ever thought possible. Every time he opened his mouth, she didn’t hear a billionaire tycoon trying to soothe her; she heard the executioner. She saw the monster whose S-tier primal madness had slaughtered her parents nine years ago in those exact gutters. She couldn’t bear to look at his symmetrical, handsome face. Sharing the confined space of the vehicle with him felt like breathing in shards of broken glass.
The sedan finally pulled to a sharp halt in front of the grand portico of the main mansion. The engine cut out, plunging the car into an even deeper, more hostile silence.
Dorrent immediately unbuckled, stepping out into the cool night air. He marched around the hood with long, sweeping strides, his massive frame cutting through the dim light as he pulled the passenger door open. He bent down, extending a hand to help her navigate the high step of the vehicle.
"Jannah, let me help you," Dorrent murmured, his arm reaching out toward her waist. "Your ribs are still bandaged. Don’t strain your left side."
"Don’t touch me," Jannah spat, her voice a low, vibrating hiss that cut through his authority like a razor blade. She didn’t look at him. She violently twisted her torso away from his extended hand, ignoring the blinding flare of agony that shot through her fractured ribcage as she forced her own boots onto the gravel. She stumbled slightly, her pale face draining of all color, but she aggressively slapped his hand away when he tried to catch her elbow. Holding her splinted arm tightly against her chest, she straightened her spine with a frantic, desperate pride and began to march directly toward the grand entrance of the house.
Standing under the brightly lit archway of the front porch was Guron Grefo. The patriarch stood with his hands loosely clasped behind his back, his sharp eyes instantly locking onto Jannah’s approaching form. He saw the ragged, tear-stained state of her face, the wild, unhinged sorrow rolling off her tiny frequency, and the complete lack of balance in her posture.
As she neared the threshold, Guron stepped forward, his deep baritone carrying a rare note of curiosity. "Jannah," he called out, his eyes narrowing as he evaluated her state. "What is wrong, little herbalist? Why are you returning in such a condition?"
Jannah didn’t even blink. She didn’t halt her pace, nor did she offer a single glance toward the powerful old man. She completely ignored his voice, passing right by his shoulder like a ghost drifting through a graveyard. It was an act of blatant defiance, a complete breakdown of the strict household hierarchy—something she had never once done since the very first day she had stepped foot into this elite estate. The front doors creaked open and slammed shut behind her, leaving the two Alpha men standing alone under the bright porch lights.
Guron’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He slowly turned his head, his sharp gaze tracking the closed door before he walked down the steps toward his son. Dorrent stood by the open car door, his jaw locked tight, his silver eyes dark with an intense, brewing frustration as he watched the space where Jannah had just been.
"What the hell happened out there, Dorrent?" Guron demanded, stopping a foot away from his son. His dominant presence expanded slightly against the night air. "Why does the little herbalist look that way? She looked as if her entire world was completely erased."
Dorrent let out a ragged, heavy breath, his chest expanding beneath his shirt. "Her grandfather passed away, Father," he delivered roughly, his teeth grinding together. "We found him tonight in the hovel. His system completely collapsed from a heavy, rapid-acting neurological toxin before I could even bridge my life-force frequency to stabilize him."
He reached into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out the crumpled, ink-smudged piece of scrap paper that Duro had forced into Jannah’s palm before his final breath. He handed it directly to his father. "He left this behind for her."
Guron took the paper, his long fingers unfolding the creases with a cold, methodical precision. He scanned the messy handwriting, reading the old man’s desperate plea for Jannah to accept the marriage alliance with the Grefo family. Guron’s face did not contort with surprise; his features remained hard, reflecting a chilling validation.
"I am not entirely surprised by the contents of this note, Dorrent," Guron muttered, his voice dropping into a flat rasp as he handed the paper back. "Duro had already agreed to hand Jannah over to us for marriage when I spoke to him. He understood the safety parameters." He stopped, his eyes suddenly widening as the chronological layout of the night struck his brain like a physical blow. A sudden shock rippled through his shoulders. "Wait... dead? How can the old man that I just talked to a single day ago be already dead tonight?"
