Chapter 99

Makizal’s hands were steady on the steering wheel as the car glided through the private road leading to Miss Kai’s villa. Too steady, perhaps. The kind of calm that came not from peace, but from long familiarity with danger. Night pressed against the windshield, broken only by the rhythmic sweep of the headlights and the distant glow of the estate’s security lights.

So, this is where Williams’ mother lives. He thought.

He slowed as the villa emerged, vast, immaculate, almost unreal. Stone and glass layered in quiet power. Wealth that did not shout, but commanded. Despite years in Williams’ employ, he had never crossed this threshold. He had treated the mother’s residence like a temple, not out of fear, but out of a perverse, scholarly respect. To see the source was to understand the river.

He had studied Miss Kai’s profile countless times. Her public appearances, her strategic decisions, the way she moved people like pieces without ever touching the board. Had he met her sooner, he thought, he might have understood Williams far earlier, and perhaps spared them all something irreparable.

The car came to a halt.

Makizal stepped out with his habitual elegance, smoothing his jacket as if he were arriving at a gala rather than a lion’s den. He moved toward the iron gates with a slow, measured gait.

Before his hand could even graze the cold metal, the air fractured with the sound of steel. Two guards materialized, their movements jagged with adrenaline. Handguns were leveled at his chest, the black muzzles staring at him like unblinking eyes.

“Don’t move!” the lead guard barked, his finger white-knuckled against the trigger.

Makizal stopped instantly, hands loose at his sides, his expression one of bored elegance. He was alone, no Alpha to watch his back, no Gamma to sweep the perimeter. He allowed himself to be searched, the rough hands of the guards a stark contrast to the refined atmosphere of the palace.

After the swift but thorough search, one guard spoke into his earpiece. A brief wait followed, long enough for tension to stretch thin, before the gates slid open.

Inside, the escort tightened. Hands hovered near holsters. Eyes tracked his every step.

Makizal slipped his hands into his pockets, scanning the ancestral portraits with feigned detachment, though his mind was cataloging every security camera and blind spot.

Marble floors. High ceilings. Silence heavy with control.

Then the soft click of heels echoed from the grand staircase.

Miss Kai descended, her silhouette framed by the light of a stained-glass window. Beside her walked Ralph, his presence solid and protective.

“Makizal,” Miss Kai said, her voice a low, vibrating chord of authority. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, Madame,” he replied, a charming, razor-thin smile touching his lips. He offered a slight nod to Ralph, a silent acknowledgment between men who understood the cost of protecting women.

“I am aware of what happened at the hospital,” she continued, her gaze searching his for a hint of the predator everyone claimed he was. “My daughter shot you. I need to know if you intend to seek revenge, or if a lawsuit is already being drafted.”

Makizal’s smile widened, revealing a glint of teeth. “Justice is for the weak, Madame. It is a consolation prize for those who cannot handle their own affairs.”

“And revenge?” Ralph asked, his voice gravelly.

“If Dr. Williams had asked me to put a bullet in my own head,” Makizal said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly sincere whisper, “I would have done it without hesitation. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Silence.

Then, without warning, Miss Kai asked, “Is that the extent to which you do love my daughter?”

Makizal adjusted his jacket, ran a hand through his hair, buying himself a second.

“I would say,” he answered, “that I am loyal.” His smile returned, softer now. “Now, what is the second point?”

The couple exchanged a look, Romaric’s parting words echoing in their minds. If Williams were to face trials, Makizal was the only one capable of holding the line perfectly. He was rigid and efficient. His greatest asset was his ability to separate the personal from the professional. And his work was his passion.

“Would you agree to serve her again?” Miss Kai asked.

Makizal fell silent.

“If you refuse,” Ralph added quickly, “we will understand.”

“What does she need?” Makizal asked at last.

The simplicity of the question unsettled them more than any threat could have. This was not the man they had expected. Not vindictive. Not greedy. Not cruel.

Ralph gestured. “There are people you need to see first.”

They led him to a sprawling meeting room. As the doors swung open, Makizal felt a rare jolt of surprise. The room was a gallery of his former victims. Adeline, Kiya, Yada, Polo, and Malaya, the Resistance, all sat around a mahogany table, their faces a mosaic of resentment and forced cooperation.

“Well,” he murmured, masking the impact with a thin smile, “here we are again.”

“Please,” Ralph said, “have a seat.”

Makizal sat, studying them one by one. Tension coiled tightly around the table. Every one of them bore scars from his methods.

Miss Kai took the head of the table. “My daughter is in a precarious position. The world is watching, and the law is circling. I believe that if she trusted you so absolutely, it was because she recognized a unique competence.” Her voice hardened. “So we need your help to prevent this upcoming catastrophe.”

Makizal listened, then asked quietly about the charges.

Polo answered. “Oswald. The people she shot. Dara’s family. And Esther.”

“You want to know if—”

“We already know you’re behind the Oswald case!” Yada snapped. “We wanted to negotiate—”

“Let him speak, Yada,” Adeline interrupted, her eyes never leaving Makizal’s face. She, more than anyone, knew the depth of the darkness they were inviting back in.

Makizal exhaled slowly. “Williams called me one morning and ordered me to stop Oswald. I contacted his boss. He chose to fire him. That was his decision.” His gaze swept the room. “As for the rest of you, I executed Madame’s orders. Nothing more.”

“And Marz?” Malaya asked softly. “Was that also her order?”

Makizal stood.

“If you want my help,” he said evenly, “you will have to let Alpha access all your devices.” He looked up. “I also need access to this house’s network and devices, especially the cameras.”

He slid a hand in his pocket; the movement caused a guard near the door to flinch and draw his weapon.

“Lower it,” Miss Kai commanded, her eyes fixed on Makizal.

Makizal pulled a small, disposable phone from his pocket and slid it across the polished wood toward Miss Kai. “This is how you reach me,” he said. “If you want my help, here are my terms. First, Alpha gets full access to your network to scrub this very conversation. Second, I get access to all your data. Everything.”

Miss Kai took it carefully.

“But what exactly are you going to do?” Ralph asked.

Makizal turned toward the door. “Prepare Williams for trial.” His gaze landed on Polo, who seemed to have aged a decade in a week. “Who will lead the defense?”

Polo gestured to Yada. “She will lead. I’ll assist. Then I retire.”

Miss Kai looked at him with quiet compassion. As he recalled the moment, he passed the sword to Yada.

Flashback

“Yada Khaisang, I heard you got married. Congratulations,” Polo had said in his office.

“Thank you,” she replied hesitantly. “Is there a problem?”

“I’ve studied your profile. You’re brilliant, and with your family’s connections, I’m surprised you aren’t at the top already.”

“That’s an unfair advantage. I prefer to keep a low profile and move at my own pace,” she replied suspiciously. “Why this research on me?”

“Actually, I…” Polo hesitated for a long time. “This whole affair is too heavy for me.” He scratched his head, looking exhausted.

“Are you alright, Mr. Polo?”

“I would like you to agree to be Williams’ lead counsel. I will assist you, of course, and other renowned lawyers will come in as backup, the best in the city.”

“But Miss Kai has absolute confidence in you. And I am already Evelyn’s lawyer.”

“For a case that doesn’t exist…” Polo stood. “I am old and tired. I want to rest. I doubt I’m still up to the task for all of this.”

Yada remained silent.

“I’m not forcing you into anything. But I think if Esther wished for one thing right now, it would be to come to Williams’ aid.”

“Alright,” Yada decided. “If Miss Kai agrees. But are you aware of the video?” she asked, testing whether he knew about the blackmail.

“What video?” he asked, sincerely surprised.

“Forget it.”

That day, Polo took the opportunity to pass her the case files. The conversation became fascinating between the experienced mentor and the new prodigy with immense potential.

End of Flashback

“Good,” Makizal said. “Prepare your defense. Oswald is mine. The rest, you’ll know tomorrow.”

As he stepped out into the night air, the cool breeze felt like victory. He dialed Alpha.

“Yes?” the distorted voice answered.

“Scrub the Kai estate. We’re back on the payroll. And Alpha, we’re deep-cleaning tonight.”

Makizal was back. Wounded, but sharper than ever. And for reasons none of them understood, he held no resentment toward Williams. He knew things they didn’t.

But above all, who would refuse to work with Dr. Niran Williams? She never haggled over prices; his fee was always guaranteed, and his missions often ran into seven figures.

That night, Alpha’s work erased the past. Evidence dissolved. Traces vanished. By morning, investigators would find nothing, nothing but Williams’s uncontrollable rage toward Esther.

The mistake had been waiting.

His final stop of the night was a modest apartment in the city. He didn’t knock. He waited for the journalist Oswald’s wife to return from the grocery store.

“Tell your husband,” Makizal said, stepping out of the shadows as the woman reached for her keys, “that I am offering him a way out. Fifteen million in an offshore account, and a senior position at a top-tier firm in Singapore. In exchange, he does what he should have done from the start. He forgets the name Williams ever existed and prepares himself to do me one last favor.”

The woman stared at the check in his hand, the number of zeros enough to buy her children’s futures.

Numbers changed everything. That was a beautiful lesson he had learned years ago.

By the next day, the pawn was set.

If Esther’s father intended to pull strings, he would pull them against Makizal. For he knew the man was the only wild card left, driven by a pride that would likely become his tombstone.

Makizal drove away. He didn’t just work for the money. He worked for the sheer, surgical beauty of a perfect fix.

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