?Chapter 1383:


    Even now, he thought of their secret overseas research—an experimental medical project that promised eternal youth. If it seeded, he and his bloodline would live without end, their richespounding forever.


    If he survived this night, he would rebuild. The man standing before him would not.


    But Terrence’s low chuckle cut through his thoughts like a de.


    “Even if you gave me the Lloyd Group,” Terrence said, his lips curving into a faint, cold smile, “or your entire underground empire—it means nothing to me.”


    The wordsnded with quiet finality. Darian’s wealth meant nothing to him.


    Darian’sposure shattered. Despair rose in his throat, choking him.


    “Then what do you want from me?” he burst out. “How did I offend you? I don’t even know you!”


    Terrence exhaled a slow breath, smoke curlingzily around his fingers. The glow of his cigar cast fleeting shadows across his face—sharp, dangerous, beautiful in a cruel way.


    “You didn’t offend me,” he said softly, his tone almost casual. “Your mistake was trying to hurt my woman.”


    The calmness in his voice sent a chill straight through Darian’s bones.


    His woman?


    The words struck like thunder. His mind spun through the faces of the women he had toyed with, dismissed, or forgotten. Then one name surfaced—Christina.


    No. It couldn’t be her. That woman was nothing but a discarded ything… wasn’t she?


    But he hadn’t messed with any other womantely.


    Darian’s lips parted, his voice faltering. “Christina? Are you talking about… Christina?”


    Terrence’s eyes darkened, the faintest edge of a smile tugging at his mouth. Without warning, he pressed the burning cigar against Darian’s throat.


    A guttural scream tore from Darian’s chest. The acrid scent of burnt flesh filled the air. He tried to pull away, but the grip on his shoulder held him still.


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    The searing pain was unbearable, the agony so sharp it blurred his vision.


    Terrence grinned with satisfaction, then slowly withdrew his hand. He flicked the cigar into a crystal ashtray beside him.


    “You’re not even worthy to speak her name,” he said, his voice low and merciless.


    The words sank deeper than the burn itself.


    Darian gasped for breath, his hand trembling against his scorched skin. The pain pulsed, but what frightened him most was the realization that the man before him wasn’t negotiating—he was delivering judgment.


    “I’m sorry…” Darian rasped, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t know she was your woman. If I had known, I never—never would have dared to set my eyes on her. I beg your forgiveness! It was a mistake. She wasn’t harmed, I swear! Spare me, and I’ll give you everything. I’ll be your servant—just let me live.”


    Terrence didn’t answer right away. Instead, he raised his hand slightly.


    His assistant stepped forward without a word, presenting a polished mahogany cigar box. Terrence took one, lit it with a flick of me, and drew in a slow breath. Smoke curledzily through the dim room, veiling his expression in a haze that was both elegant and dangerous.


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