?Chapter 1471:


    If the Reynolds family wanted him dead, so be it—none of them would be walking away alive.


    “Y-you kill me, and my family wille for you!” Lorraine stammered, panic rising in her throat.


    She had hired a killer, and now she was the one staring down the barrel.


    “Makes no difference,” he said quietly. “If you live, my family’s doomed anyway.”


    His gaze drifted toward Christina, who was still slumped motionless beside him. His eyes were hollow, emptied of life and hope.


    “If my boy doesn’t make it,” he murmured, “then I’ve got nothing left to live for. At least this way, I clear a path for someone innocent. That’s enough.”


    A raggedugh escaped his chest, swelling into wild, desperateughter. For the first time, he felt weightless—free to let go, free to meet his wife again. He only prayed she wouldn’t hate him for failing their child.


    The madness in his eyes made Lorraine’s blood run cold.


    She wed at the door handle, pounding on the ss when it refused to open. Terror squeezed her lungs as tears streaked down her face.


    In that moment, she believed they were all insane—everyst one of them.


    Everything the Reynolds family had plotted so carefully was copsing. Each move they’d nned was crumbling, slipping beyond their grasp.


    Lorraine forced herself to breathe. Her mind raced for a way out. Her fingers, trembling and slick with sweat, fumbled for her phone. Panic gripped her, making it slip from her grasp again and again.


    Just as the driver leaned over to seize it, Christina—who only moments ago had seemed dead drunk—opened her eyes.


    He froze, his pulse spiking.


    Those eyes weren’t hazy or unfocused—they were clear, sharp, and terrifyingly calm.


    Wait…


    R?????? ???????????? ????????ov?????.??o??


    She’d been pretending all along?


    A chill rippled down his spine, cold sweat forming at his temples. In his mind, this woman was terrifying.


    Before he could even react, Christina’s hand shot out and snatched the phone straight from Lorraine’s grasp.


    “Ah! My phone—” Lorraine shrieked, reaching instinctively, only to stop dead when she met Christina’s half-smiling, mocking gaze.


    “Ah…” Lorraine’s voice broke into a scream, her face drained of color.


    Christina’s eyes were sharp and alert, not a trace of drunkenness left.


    “Y-you’re not drunk!” Lorraine stammered, her whole body trembling.


    “If I’d actually been drunk, isn’t that exactly what you would’ve wanted?” Christina said with a faint, knowing smile, twirling the phone idly between her fingers.


    “Give back my phone!” Lorraine lunged at her, her voice rising to a shriek.


    Christina’s eyes narrowed, all warmth vanishing from them.


    Before anyone could move, she struck—quick, precise—a clean motion followed by a sharp crack as Lorraine’s arm was dislocated.


    Lorraine gasped, but the next blow came just as fast. A brutal snap followed as her other arm was twisted.


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