Chapter 175: The Gabriel Household
A fleet of three black, unmarked armored SUVs tore through the quiet, affluent suburbs on the outer edge of the upper district, their high-beams cutting through the midnight fog.
Nat sat in the back of the lead vehicle, lazily swiping through a tablet provided by his data syndicate.
"The Gabriel family," Nat noted, reading the file aloud over the hum of the engine. "Not high-tier aristocracy, but old money. Mid-level real estate and import holdings. The patriarch, Victor Gabriel, married his second wife, Eleanor, fifteen years ago. But it seems they’ve had a long history even before then because they have a biological daughter named Clara and she’s 26 years old."
April sat beside him, her face pale under the passing streetlights. "What about Emily?"
"Emily Gabriel," Nat read, his eyes narrowing slightly at the screen. "The biological daughter of Victor’s first wife, Beatrice. According to the public registry, Emily was married off three years ago to a young corporate heir named Johan Le Moreno. They are currently residing at the main Gabriel estate while Johan oversees a local logistics merger."
Nat tapped the screen, bringing up a private surveillance feed. "My boys pulled some internal household logs. Johan Le Moreno has been openly sleeping with his sister in law, Clara, for the past months. The whole household knows, including the stepmother. The only one kept in the dark seems to be Emily... until recently."
April’s hands clenched into tight fists in her lap. A sickening, familiar pattern was emerging. A neglected biological daughter, a toxic stepmother, a cheating husband, and a dying mother. Just like Xavier had said, it seemed to resemble the modern dramas of the current century.
"They are keeping her at the main estate?" April asked, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register.
"That’s where the trackers lead," Nat said, shutting the tablet with a sharp snap as he looked up to see the gates before then. "Looks like we’re here."
The three heavy SUVs pulled up right outside the iron gates of a secluded, Victorian-style manor house.
"Hold tight, sweetheart." Nat said as he nodded at the driver. "We’re breaking in."
Without waiting for an invitation, the driver put the vehicle into full gear and accelerated, its reinforced steel bull-bar smashing directly through the electronic gate locks with a deafening crunch of twisted metal and shattering glass.
The convoy roared up the paved driveway, screeching to a halt right on the manicured front lawn.
Within seconds, a dozen heavily armed men from Nat’s gang poured out of the vehicles, taking tactical positions around the front entrance.
Nat stepped out smoothly, holding an open umbrella against the light drizzle, offering his arm to April as she stepped out beside him.
"Stay close," he whispered.
The heavy oak front doors of the manor were thrown wide open from the inside and before then stood a middle-aged man with thinning hair, wearing a silk bathrobe over his sleepwear.
Victor Gabriel came rushing into the foyer, his face flushed with extreme anger. "What is the meaning of this?! Who gave you permission to smash through my—"
Victor cut his own sentence short.
His eyes landed on Nat, recognizing the broad frame with the dragon tattoo crawling up his neck, the flaming red hair, sharp dark eyes, and the terrifying squad of Golden Dragon gang members fanning out across his living room.
Victor’s haughty anger instantly melted into a hollow, pathetic terror. His knees buckled slightly, his hands trembling as he backed up against the grand staircase.
"M-Master Nat..." Victor choked out, his voice cracking. "The Golden Dragon... why... Why are your men invading my home at midnight? If there is a debt—"
"Shut your mouth," Nat said easily, stepping into the foyer while tossing his wet umbrella to an enforcer.
From the upper landing of the stairs, three more figures rushed down to see the commotion.
First was Eleanor, the stepmother—a sharply dressed, middle-aged woman still wearing heavy makeup even when it was past midnight, having cold, calculating eyes.
Beside her was Clara, her biological daughter, wearing a satin nightgown, holding herself with a haughty, arrogant posture.
And trailing behind them was Johan Le Moreno—a handsome, young corporate heir wearing a half buttoned white shirt, and pants that seemed to be put on in a rush, looking utterly bewildered and defensive.
A few terrified maids huddled near the hallway entrance, trembling in fear.
Did the Master hair say the Golden dragon?
Why would the terrifying Golden Dragon be here at this time?
Are we in trouble?
April stepped into the center of the grand foyer, her sharp, dark eyes sweeping over the assembled family with clinical precision.
The stepmother looked cold and manipulative.
The stepsister looked arrogant and spoiled.
The husband looked weak and treacherous.
The father looked spineless and cowardly.
It was a complete household gathering.
Except... there was no sign of Emily. And there was no sign of her sick mother, Beatrice.
April’s eyes narrowed coldly as she looked directly at Victor Gabriel.
"Where is she?" April asked, her voice striking the silent hallway like the cold blade of an executioner’s axe. "Where is Emily?"
The air in the grand foyer instantly turned sharp enough to spice through one’s heart.
The moment Eleanor, Clara, and Johan managed to look past Nat’s looming frame and lock their eyes on the girl standing in the center of the room, their expressions shattered into absolute, staggering shock.
April.
Except to them, they weren’t looking at a legendary seer or a high-tier power. They were looking at the pathetic woman Emily, who they had all disregarded.
"What... how?" Clara gasped, her haughty posture instantly breaking as she clutched Johan’s arm. "How did that filthy girl get out of the attic?!" She whispered.
"Johan, did you leave the lock undone?!" Eleanor hissed, her cold eyes wide with sheer disbelief.
To the entire family, Emily was supposed to be safely locked away upstairs alongside her bedridden, dying mother, Beatrice. Seeing her standing here—dressed in clothes that seemed way too nice than the worn out clothes they let her keep, flanked by a literal army of Golden Dragon men—defied every piece of reality they knew.
How had she escaped? And why in the world was she standing beside the Golden Dragon himself?