Chapter 45

Thursday – 19th | 4:00 AM

Cold air punched her lungs as she sat up, trembling, her nightshirt clinging to her damp skin. For a moment, she did not know where she was. The edges of the room blurred, and her breathing rang harshly in her ears. Then reality snapped back into place.

Her house. Her bed. The blackout had been a failure of her physical machine, but the waking was a decisive reboot.

Breathless, she hauled herself up and moved with jerky urgency toward her room. She stepped into the shower fully clothed and turned the faucet to its absolute coldest setting. Water streamed down her hair and face, washing away the blood and the whiskey haze. She closed her eyes and forced her heartbeat to slow.

Focus.

She stood drenched, her dark hair clinging to her shoulders, and grabbed her secure phone. Then she dialed a private number.

The line clicked.
A deep, gravelly, elderly voice answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

Williams did not waste time on pleasantries. “Immediately,” she said, and hung up before he could reply.

Still dripping, she moved to the kitchen. The spacious, refrigerated vault held gourmet fare, but she ignored it and grabbed simple bread. She tore off large chunks, wolfing down the food with a desperate, animalistic hunger that was raw and devoid of her usual control. Beside the plate, she poured herself a generous measure of whiskey.

A few minutes later, the house’s silence was shattered by the distant, heavy thrum of engines. A black, low-profile armored car, heavy as a tank, pulled to a stop outside. Five men in perfectly tailored black suits, their faces severe and menacing, exited in synchronized motion.

At the main gate, the armed security detail halted them. This was not a regular visit.

Within seconds, the butler rushed into the kitchen, breath short and eyes wide. He stopped dead at the scene before him: Williams, dripping wet, devouring a meal with alarming speed, a glass of whiskey in her hand, utterly unconcerned by her state. She looked like a predator that had finally cornered its prey.

“Madam, you have visitors.”

“Let them in,” she said without looking up.

The butler hesitated, then obeyed.

Moments later, the five men were ushered in. Williams motioned for the rest of the staff to leave. They scattered instantly.

The tallest man stepped forward. His presence shifted the room.

Makizal.

“I am here,” he said, approaching with a reverence that bordered on devotion, while his four colleagues fanned out into silent, watchful positions.

Williams did not answer. She continued to eat, savoring the burn of the whiskey and the simple taste of the bread. Makizal waited respectfully. He observed her, taking in the spectacle of her primal hunger and cold authority.

After a tense minute of silence, she stood up and walked away. Makizal watched her closely. She returned with the incriminating documents, Malaya’s package, and placed them on the mahogany coffee table, pushing them toward him. She took another slow, deliberate sip.

Makizal opened the file. His brow furrowed.

“Do you know what you are looking at?” Williams asked.

He lifted his gaze to her.

“A negligence on my part that threatens to disturb my sleep. And you know I hate not getting enough sleep.” She stood and placed her plate on the counter with a sharp clack. “My hospital is infested, and perhaps my house is too.” She fixed her gaze on Makizal. “I want a cleanup, and this time I intend to be front and center.”

Makizal’s jaw tightened. He turned to his team, his voice sharp and metallic. “Secure the house. I want every staff member’s phone and every electronic device. Scour everything. If there is any suspicious object, report it. Do not enter Madam’s room.” He looked back at Williams, giving a subtle nod that confirmed his loyalty. “A woman will handle that. Prepare a team for the hospital. I will give the move order. Now, all of you, out.”

Alone with Williams, Makizal poured more whiskey into her glass.

“Madam…”

“Sit,” she said.

He obeyed immediately.

She clasped her glass between her palms and leaned back. Her voice lowered.

“Several days ago, a doctor, Emilio, made a catastrophic mistake. He accidentally inseminated a patient.”

Makizal did not flinch. He processed information faster than most men breathed.

“I assigned Polo to manage the fallout,” she continued. “But I was distracted. Busy. And today I discovered Emilio is covering for someone else.” She slid the final pages toward him. “Dr. Marz.”

Makizal examined the evidence. He knew all the names. He was the invisible hand that enacted Williams’ will. If Romaric was driven by empathy and duty, Makizal was defined by cold, effective brutality.

“Thank you, Madam, for trusting me,” he said, the words heavy with meaning. “It would be an honor to be your driver.”

Williams looked at him, a flicker of something like amusement in her eyes. Makizal had subtly offered to step into Romaric’s public role, becoming the visible man, the filter, and her shield.

“I thought you worked for everyone.”

“For you,” he said, voice low, “I would give myself entirely. A single word… and I will begin.”

This moment was decisive, the pivot of Williams’ power.

He was not speaking of employment.
He was speaking of allegiance.
Replacing Romaric.
Becoming the first face people saw at her side.

Williams’ expression became unreadable.

“I want to see every protagonist face-to-face. For the rest, you already know what to do.”

Makizal stood, drawing himself to his full, imposing height. “Are you giving me full authorization?” His dark gaze searched her face, seeking confirmation of the ultimate power transfer.

Williams lifted her glass. “I do not repeat myself.” She looked toward the office, still holding the ghost of her earlier collapse. “Do what needs to be done. At six o’clock, I am leaving for the hospital.”

“Understood.”

She turned and headed back to her room, intending to salvage an hour of sleep.

When her door closed, Makizal’s lips curled into a wide, triumphant smile. This was the moment he had dreamed of, a terrifying fulfillment of ambition. He detested Romaric, and now Williams had placed him at the center of her life, granting him visible and invisible power. He would be the explosion Adeline had feared, a truly sick and sadistic enforcer. Only Williams, or a force superior to her, could stop him now.

He recalled.

A year before Kai Malee’s departure, Williams, having taken over her mother’s empire, was forced to attend a private elite gathering, a necessary exposure to the country’s major players.

Williams entered the opulent party room like a general stepping into a theatre, dressed in her signature black tailored suit, posture straight, expression calm, Romaric at her side like a loyal sentinel. Heads turned. Her presence did not ask for attention; it commanded it.

She was immediately guided to a corner table, where she exchanged polite, guarded greetings. The bodyguards positioned themselves rigidly against the walls.

“You are Williams, the daughter of Miss Kai Malee?” a young woman asked.

“I am Niran Williams, yes,” she corrected.

“Ah, yes, Doctor Niran Williams. Your work is remarkable. I admire your efforts to boost our country’s medical reputation internationally. Congratulations on the merge with Chancelle.”

“Thank you. But it is a partnership, not a merger. And you are?”

“Jinny, Mr. Aristide’s daughter. I opened a law firm that is open to partnerships if ever…”

Williams gave a brief, clinical assessment. “Interesting.”

A businessman beckoned them to a more prominent table, where an influential figure was seated. As they discussed high finance and strategy, the conversation veered toward the logistics of removing inconvenient people.

One of the men casually pointed toward a distant corner. Makizal was posted far away, blending into the background, dressed as a bartender.

But even before the man spoke, Williams was already staring. Makizal had been watching her intently since her arrival. Their eyes locked in a silent current of mutual curiosity. The room dissolved for Williams in that moment.

Williams, no admirer of debauchery, left shortly after. But she and Makizal had noticed each other.

Days later, one evening, Williams sat exhausted in her pristine office after salvaging a nearly failed intervention. Romaric was stationed dutifully at her door.

A doctor, masked up to his nose, entered without knocking, walking with brisk confidence.

“It’s urgent, it’s urgent,” he murmured to Romaric, who, distracted and trusting the surgical scrubs, let him pass.

Williams looked up. “What is it?”

The man placed a sheet of paper on her desk. Williams saw a list of ten crossed-out names. She looked up, demanding, “What is this? “

He removed his mask. Williams felt a cold shock. It was Makizal.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice steady.

He smiled. “I should be asking you that question. So, doctor, tell me, what do you want?” He gestured at the list. “Part of your problems solved. Let’s say I lightly dusted off your clothes.”

Williams glanced at Romaric, who looked determinedly elsewhere.

Makizal added proudly, “That is how I enter and leave without resistance. I could have slit your throat before anyone realized.”

Williams leaned back with a slow, predatory smile. “I never called for your service.”

Makizal placed a small, untraceable phone on her desk. “I know when I am needed. I see it in the eyes of people in distress, and I am here.”

At that moment, Romaric finally recognized Makizal without the mask. He burst through the doorway and lunged at him, slamming him onto the desk, his face a mask of shame and fury.

Makizal did not fight.
Did not move.
He simply raised his hands and looked at Williams.

She smiled faintly.

“Let him go.”

Makizal left, disappearing as quickly as he came, still dressed as a surgeon. He had infiltrated her office effortlessly.

On her table, he left a phone.
A direct line.

end

His audacity, cold intelligence, and absolute control under pressure had flattered Williams’ ego.

Romaric, humiliated by his failure, never forgave him. Since then, he doubled his vigilance. But Makizal, every time he heard Williams’ firm voice through their secure line, envied anyone who shared her time.

Now he would be the gatekeeper.
He would filter every visit and every acquaintance.
He would ensure that the slightest worry vanished from her life.

And his first act would be to eject Romaric from the center of Williams’ world. 

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