Chapter 90

The first bullet cracked against the steel of the police shield, sending sparks into the violent night.

Then another.

And another.

The police had attempted to force their way inside the villa, and Williams answered with precise, surgical shots, a chilling display of controlled aggression.

Makizal’s guards had done their desperate best to erase the signs of the first catastrophe, but they could not remove Evelyn. They now faced an impossible dilemma. Their boss had shot their leader, yet she remained the primary figure of their corporate loyalty. As the police pressed forward, several guards were wounded, and they were forced to retreat, yielding the perimeter to the state.

Within minutes, the villa was surrounded by squad cars, armored vehicles, and floodlights slicing the night apart. Behind the barricades, a frantic crowd gathered: journalists, neighbors, Williams’s stunned colleagues, and her immediate family.

At that moment, no one knew the extent of Williams’s fall, or that Evelyn lay wounded inside.

Inside the villa, Williams moved like a wraith, the remnants of Makizal’s blood mingling with her own.

“Williams!” Evelyn cried out, her voice regaining a tremor of life as she saw the gun pointed at her again. She tried to rise, but Williams reacted with cold, brutal efficiency. She whipped the pistol, striking Evelyn’s head violently with the butt. The sound of metal meeting bone was sickeningly loud. Blood instantly gushed from the fresh wound, and Evelyn crumpled, losing consciousness once more.

Williams snatched a second handgun from a hidden drawer beneath the kitchen counter and began firing at the police breaching the perimeter.

Outside, officers shouted warnings. Williams stepped to the window and fired again, the muzzle flash blinding, the bullets ricocheting off armored plates.

Media headlines screamed the unbelievable truth:

“MURDEROUS FRENZY: DR. NIRAN WILLIAMS SHOOTS BODYGUARD AND POLICE.”

Reporters shoved each other for the closest view.

“Sources confirm she opened fire on her own bodyguard after an altercation at the hospital. Four security officers are injured. Police describe her as extremely dangerous and heavily armed. The questions remain unanswered. Did she suffer a psychological collapse after this morning’s emotional interview? Is this PTSD, or A psychotic break? We do not know.”

Her mother was present, flanked by her stunned husband and Adeline. Miss Kai had urgently informed the police command that Williams was mentally ill and must not be shot.

Then, over the officer’s walkie-talkie, the shock revelation rang out.

Williams had a hostage.

The commander ordered a change in tactics.

“No!” Miss Kai cried, recognizing the danger of escalation.

Meanwhile, back in the villa, Williams whispered the name, her voice shredded.

“Evelyn Hazel!”

She turned the gun back toward the unconscious woman, the barrel trembling at the edge of her breaking mind.

“SHOOT,” a voice echoed in her head.

Yet despite every effort to convince herself, she could not pull the trigger.

“You’re bleeding. You… you might have a concussion. You should get an X-ray to check for internal hemorrhaging. You…”

“Doctor, please pull yourself together!” a voice boomed through the police loudspeaker.

She turned, her movements erratic. At times, the rational, clinical Williams spoke. At others, the terrified child.

But Williams was categorical. The clearer her thoughts became, the more horrifying the truth of Esther Dara grew, and the more fiercely she fought to protect the secret of her pain. No one was to set foot in her house.

“Oh, no!” She shook her head, clutching her temples, and began to cry. “No, Evelyn, not Esther Dara. Who brought you here?”

Outside the cordon, the information sparked panic among Evelyn’s friends.

“I should have done something,” Kannika muttered, tears streaming down her face as she parked at the chaotic scene.

Yada, consumed by guilt over the video and her passive loyalty to Williams’s threats, lunged forward. A police officer immediately blocked her.

“You can’t pass here. It’s restricted.”

“There’s a woman inside. Esther Dara!” Yada screamed the real name, no longer caring about the consequences.

The officer’s eyes widened as he looked between the frantic friends and the frantic mother.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Evelyn’s friend,” Kannika said.

“I’m her lawyer,” Yada declared, finding her ultimate courage. “My client, Esther Dara, is inside that house. She is in danger.”

She was determined and unafraid of the videos being released. Williams had already drawn the police’s attention with her actions. Now she had nothing left to lose.

At that moment of unbearable tension, Miss Kai broke through. With strength born of terror, she dodged a police barrier and ran toward the building.

“Williams! Williams!” she screamed, her voice cracking with maternal devastation.

Adeline followed her.

Williams saw her mother enter the room, the architect of her psychological prison. She leveled the pistol at her, frozen.

Miss Kai saw the devastation: Evelyn beaten, inert on the ground, blood everywhere. Her hand trembled as she pleaded.

“Williams, I love you, honey. Please don’t do this to me,” she cried, stepping closer. “Please don’t do this to us.”

Williams’s finger tightened on the trigger.

She was about to shoot when Ralph, wearing a heavy bulletproof vest, silently placed himself between Williams and his wife.

“Ralph,” Miss Kai whispered.

Unable to restrain them, the police commander ordered no intervention, watching the scene unfold while another officer searched for a viable angle to unalive the doctor.

Williams now aimed the gun at her stepfather, her body locked in murderous rage.

And then the memories returned.

Ralph, the man who had been there from the beginning. Always present. Never intrusive. He never raised his voice, never demanded explanations, never asked to be seen. He existed at the edges of her life, steady and unwavering. Watching. Supporting. Protecting.

He had asked for nothing in return. Not love. Not gratitude. No recognition.

He loved her mother so fiercely that he learned how to love her as if she were his own, without ever trying to replace her father or claim a title that was not his.

Now he stood there, unarmed and exposed, willing to die for the person he loved most, at the hands of the woman he had spent years protecting in silence.

If Williams’s mind had fractured under trauma, then Ralph’s had been shaped by something just as dangerous.

Love.

“Williams, please put down the gun,” Ralph said gently, smiling despite the sweat pouring down his face. “There is always a solution. And you will always find one. Remember?” he added, his eyes teary.

Outside, the story exploded.

Esther Dara.

A woman inside Williams’s villa.

In danger.

The name spread like wildfire. The media dug instantly into the background of the high-profile hostage and quickly uncovered her origins.

Esther Dara was the daughter of Dion Supanon Dara, a wealthy oil magnate. Her mother, Anne Laure, was a powerful real estate executive and heiress. Esther was their only daughter, though she had an older brother.

“Niran,” Adeline said quietly from the doorway, using the name that carried all the buried history.

The sound echoed in Williams’s mind like a final hammer blow.

Williams looked from her mother to Ralph, then to Evelyn.

The Betrayal. The forced amnesia. And the devastating teenage love that had never been allowed to exist. All the fissures slammed together and fused into a single, unbearable truth.

Slowly, she lowered the gun.

Her mother rushed toward her, but Williams recoiled.

“Don’t touch me. Please.”

Adeline stepped closer. “Dr. Williams, why did you do that?”

Williams replied coldly, her voice vacant. “Because she is not Evelyn Hazel. She is not mine.”

“Then who does she belong to?” Adeline whispered.

Williams turned toward the unconscious woman.

“She belongs to…” She stopped, the truth too large to speak.

Miss Kai rushed to Evelyn, tears streaming down her face, while Ralph signaled the police. He returned and carefully retrieved the weapon from Williams’s hand.

Paramedics flooded the villa.

Williams was evacuated under the utmost discretion, surrounded by police and security units, and transported to a private mental health facility. Evelyn was rushed to a private clinic, her prognosis uncertain.

Makizal, who had tried to suppress the evil, had failed to see that it came from the very person giving the orders. He was rushed into surgery. His condition remained guarded.

Police raided Williams’s house and seized security footage to reconstruct the events. They recovered video, but no documents. The original Esther Dara file had vanished in the chaos, and all evidence of her earlier illegal actions had already been destroyed.

The identity of the hostage was no longer a secret, yet the media clung to a single unanswered question.

What was happening?

The scandal ignited by Dr. Niran Williams was not only about the Power and violence of wealth. It was about class, obsession, and a teenage love story that had metastasized into madness.

A note from the author:

You may try to run from your past, but you will never escape it forever.