Chapter 956

His mind frantically cataloged every questionable deed that might have provoked retribution. Nothing particularly damning surfaced in his memory. At worst, he’d pursued a few women and left some broken hearts in his wake.

The doors of the black cars swung open in eerie unison. Several imposing figures in immaculate black suits and opaque sunglasses emerged—textbook security professionals straight from central casting. One of them approached Blaine’s window and rapped his knuckles against the glass—authoritative yet restrained.

“Mr. Castro,” he said with mechanical precision, his voice devoid of emotion, “Our employer requests your immediate presence for a conversation.”

Blaine blinked rapidly, bewilderment clouding his features. What on earth was unfolding here?noveldrama

The odds were stacked heavily against him. Resistance seemed pointless and potentially dangerous. He might as well cooperate and discover the purpose behind this elaborate interception.

Swallowing the knot of apprehension in his throat, Blaine pushed open the door and climbed out. “Alright then. Lead the way,” he said with forced casualness.

Two stone-faced guards materialized at his sides, escorting him toward the central vehicle—a gleaming, midnight-black luxury sedan that screamed power and wealth.

The door thumped closed behind him with ominous finality. Inside, shadows dominated the dimly lit interior, and the atmosphere pressed down like a physical weight.

Blaine cleared his throat deliberately, attempting to pierce the suffocating silence. “So, who exactly is your boss? If someone orchestrated this elaborate production just to meet me, I believe I’ve earned the courtesy of a name.”

Silence greeted his inquiry. Neither the driver, the guard in the passenger seat, nor those flanking him acknowledged his question. They remained forward-facing and motionless, resembling carved sentinels rather than living men.

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Discomfort crawled across Blaine’s skin, the prolonged silence making him shift uneasily in his seat.

Fine, the silent treatment it was. Blaine forced a smirk and settled back against the supple leather, surveying the opulent interior with feigned interest.

Whoever commanded such resources was undoubtedly swimming in wealth or wielding considerable influence—perhaps both.

Half an hour of tense silence later, the motorcade glided to a halt outside the imposing facade of Autumn Garden Villa.

Recognition flickered across Blaine’s face—this prestigious property allegedly belonged to someone whose connections reached into the highest echelons of power.

The guards shepherded him through marble hallways into the villa’s cavernous living room, their footsteps echoing against polished floors. Noah lounged on an elegant couch, his lean frame wrapped in an impeccably tailored black suit.

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