?Chapter 1483:


    A burst of static hissed from the speakers. Then an image coalesced on the ck screen — a form shrouded in deeper darkness. A man sat cloaked in a ck robe, his face hidden within a deep hood. The only visible detail was a hand resting on the chair’s arm: skeletal, the skin stretched taut over bone like desated parchment, pale and lifeless, the nails filed to sharp points. The sight radiated a palpable aura of decay.


    “Speak.” The voice rasped through the speakers, harsh and grating, like metal scraping stone. “How do you intend to deal with this situation?”


    Kolton shuddered. He sat bolt upright, hands t on his knees, posture rigid — like a terrified student awaiting judgment.


    “Thomas, please — have faith in me,” he said hoarsely. “Things aren’t beyond control. This was an ident. I can still fix it. I just need time. Please.”


    The figure on the screen didn’t move. Only those skeletal fingers tapped the armrest — slow, deliberate.


    “I want a n,” Thomas said, his voice sinking lower and heavier. “Not excuses.” The pressure in the room seemed to thicken. “You disappoint me, Kolton.”


    Kolton felt as though an invisible hand had closed around his throat.


    “Have you forgotten ourpact?” Thomas’s head tilted slightly. From the depths of the hood, two points of cold light seemed to fix upon him. “I cleared your path to the head of the Cooper family. In return, you pledged your life and its resources to my service. You have one final opportunity.”


    The words struck like thunder. Cold sweat streamed down Kolton’s temples, dripping onto the pristine carpet beneath his feet.


    Fear dragged him backward — back to that storm-soaked night years ago. Lightning split the sky. Thunder roared. Rain came down in sheets, just as suffocating as the darkness closing in around him now.


    Back then, Kolton had been nothing more than the younger son. He had worked himself to exhaustion — eighteen-hour days, deal after deal — desperate to prove his worth. But his father, Laurence, had never once looked his way. Instead, Kolton had overheard him in the study, telling Kyle — his elder brother — that the Cooper legacy would pass to him.


    A????????t?v?? ??o????l?? о?? ?????????????????.??????


    Why Kyle? Because he was older? Because he wore that infuriating mask of benevolence?


    That night, jealousy consumed Kolton whole. He charged into the pouring rain and sought refuge in a bar, desperate to drown his seething fury in alcohol. That was when he met Thomas — a man shrouded in mystery, radiating a power so terrifying it seemed to bend reality itself.


    “Do you want what should have been yours?”


    The temptation had been irresistible. From that moment, a ruthless n took shape: eliminate Kyle, then shift every sin onto Zoey. Only then could Kolton be the sole, uncontested heir. Zoey had once meant everything to him. He had loved her. But love meant nothing beside power.


    That rainy night, Kolton bowed, kissed Thomas’s withered hand, and epted him as something greater than a master.


    A sharp inhale snapped him back to the present.


    Sentiment was a luxury he could not afford. Survival was the only imperative.


    Kolton steadied himself, forcing calm into his voice. “Thomas, hear me out. The situation looks dangerous — but this fire…” His eyes gleamed faintly. “It came at exactly the right moment.”


    A sharp gleam shed through Kolton’s eyes, malice flickering beneath a strategist’s practiced calm as heid out his n without warmth.


    “We turn this disaster into bait and drag every media outlet straight to us. I can have my people stir confusion and cloud the narrative — we burn Cooper Group’s reputation ourselves, flood the channels with manufactured scandals, and let the chaos snowball until rumors spread unchecked. The more absurd the ims, the more useful they are. The louder the noise, the better it works. Stories about corrupt executives, dangerous products, environmental hazards tied to our construction projects — all of it will do nicely. That way, even if my useless daughter betrays me and reveals the so-called human experiments, the usation will vanish into the noise and be dismissed as just another smear campaign. It is a matter of raising enough false rms until the truth is drowned out and ignored.”


    .


    .


    .