?Chapter 1516:


    Every headline perfectly mirrored Kolton’s so-called confession. In one breath, he had admitted to human experimentation, evidence destruction, coordinated explosions, and the silencing of witnesses. It was irrefutable—an open confession broadcast to the entire world.


    Inside the ck convoy, Chris listened to Kolton’s smug voice through the earpiece, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He lifted a hand and cut off the voice changer and remote mic, then turned to Grayson beside him.


    “The fish has bitten—and it’s hooked deep. Stick to the script and keep pressing him.” His gaze sharpened like a de. “And notify Raegan. Since he’s confessed to destroying evidence, we can release the data we so thoughtfully saved for him.”


    “Yes, sir,” Grayson replied, a flicker of awe crossing his eyes.


    Chris’s n was ruthless in its elegance. By feeding Kolton’s paranoia and desperation, he had coaxed the man into sealing his own fate—live, before the entire world.


    Grayson immediately dialed Raegan. “Proceed,” he said.


    On the other end, Raegan had been waiting. She stared at the screen, eyes cold as she watched the man who made her skin crawl. “With his confession and our evidence, it’s more than enough,” she said tly. “Crimes against humanity. Even ten executions wouldn’t be justice.”


    She hit Enter.


    Hundreds of gigabytes of encrypted data surged outward to major media outlets and tforms worldwide, like a dam bursting under unbearable pressure. These were not vague reports or grainy images—they were crystal-clear videos, detailed experimental records, and autopsy reports, each file soaked in blood.


    Back in the car, Chris leaned against the seat, the strain finally catching up with him. A wave of dizziness washed over his pale face. He was still recovering from surgery, after all.


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    “I’m done,” he murmured, closing his eyes. His voice remained steady despite the fatigue. “Continue the operation. Even while I rest, don’t give Kolton or Cooper Group a single chance to regroup.”


    “Understood,” Grayson replied. He picked up the prepared ybook and turned toward the surveince monitor. Now it was his turn.


    He activated the voice changer, roughening his tone into something crude and menacing. “Hey! Old man!”


    Onscreen, Kolton was still blustering, trying to intimidate his captors with the weight of his name. “Where’s the person in charge? Bring him to me. The situation is clear—untie me. Get me water. Get me food.”


    “Enough!” Grayson snapped. “Our leader’s gone to confirm things. Damn it—we never expected thebs to blow. But if you really are the boss, that works in our favor. Land routes are cut, but you know we still have two lines open on the sea, don’t you?”


    Kolton fell silent, confusion flickering across his battered face.


    The open sea? His thoughts scrambled, rifling through fragments of memory. Before he could piece it together, Grayson’s altered voice broke the silence—curious on the surface, butced with naked greed.


    “Listen carefully. What exactly is the ‘special cargo’ aboard those two freighters? If you answer correctly—prove you’re really Kolton Cooper—I might be generous. Some food, maybe even a ss of wine.”


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