Chapter 4

Olivia received permission to leave the residence. It was a small victory, but a crucial one. With no bodies to bury and no belongings left of her parents, she could only find someone to make effigies and paper figures for a symbolic funeral.

Making the paper figures and effigies was a time-consuming process. During those days, she frequently left the residence. On the surface, she told Daniel's guards she was buying incense and other ceremonial supplies. In reality, she was moving through the city's underbelly, a ghost from a fallen dynasty. She was looking for her father's handwritten will, a document he had told her about years ago, hidden behind a loose stone in a forgotten statue at an old temple. That will held the codes to mobilize a hidden team of loyalists, her father's last resort.

On the surface, she was buying supplies and scouting locations for a makeshift grave. In reality, she was secretly meeting with her father's former associates, men and women who had gone into hiding after the corporate takeover, waiting for a signal.

The matter was exposed on the fifth day she left the residence.

That day, she returned late, well after sunset. The sprawling residence was eerily silent. As she reached the center of the main courtyard, the silence was broken. Suddenly, the surrounding walls were lined with figures. Countless archers, their bows drawn and aimed directly at her.

Olivia stopped, her heart pounding but her face calm. She even managed a small, wry smile. "Is the Detective planning to turn me into a beehive?" she quipped, her voice carrying clearly in the tense silence.

Daniel stepped out from the shadows of the main building. He moved with a predator's grace and grabbed her chin, his fingers digging into her skin. "You've been playing so many tricks these past few days," he snarled, his face close to hers. "It seems you had a purpose after all!"

His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "How dare you play tricks under my nose? Are you tired of living?"

Olivia smiled faintly, a genuine, tired smile. "I won't need to go out tomorrow," she said calmly. "Today is the seventh day after my parents' company collapsed three years ago. I knew the Detective would be suspicious, so I hastily made a symbolic memorial for them. The effigies and paper figures have already been buried. Thank you, Detective, for the settlement fee you provided. If you don't believe me, then do it. Kill me."

She tilted her head back, exposing her throat, and closed her eyes, calmly awaiting death.

Would he ever know the truth? Would he one day regret everything he had done to her? But what good would regret do? Her parents were gone, and she was about to die too.

Daniel's hand tightened on her chin, a reflexive, angry movement. Blood spilled from the corner of her mouth where his grip bruised her. The moment she closed her eyes, he saw a flash of astonishing, pure hatred in her expression before her eyelids covered it. It was a look he found disturbingly familiar.

Daniel suddenly felt his hand was not obeying him. He had killed thousands of corporate rivals and traitors on the battlefield of the business world, but at this moment, staring down at this frail woman, his hand trembled.

"It doesn't matter if you don't confess," he bit out, his eyes bloodshot, unable to hide the raw ruthlessness within him. "Someone!"

Soon, two imposing guards came forward. One of them held a long, thick whip.

"Beat her!" Daniel commanded, his voice echoing in the courtyard. "Beat her until she confesses!"

Olivia was forced to her knees on the cold stone. One of the guards grabbed her hair, forcing her head up, forcing her eyes open.

"What do you want me to confess, Detective?" she asked, her voice steady despite the pain.

"I heard the former CEO had a secret team," Daniel said, his voice cold. "A hidden army. Is that true or false? Why don't you tell me?"

Someone brought a heavy wooden chair, and Daniel sat down, crossing his legs, making himself the judge and jury. He slightly raised his hand, a silent signal.

The whip behind her was lifted. It whistled through the air and struck her back with a sickening crack. The force was cruel, brutal. Another lash followed, and another, as if the executioner was trying to break her straight, proud spine.

Blood instantly soaked through the thin fabric of her uniform. Her frail body involuntarily bent forward in the cold wind. This was a military discipline whip, as thick as a man's thumb, and very long. With enough force, a single lash could tear the skin from the bone.

After five lashes, Olivia couldn't control herself any longer. She fell to the ground, a choked gasp escaping her lips as blood spilled from her mouth onto the stone pavers.

Daniel's hand on the arm of his chair unconsciously clenched, his knuckles turning white. "Still stubborn?" he demanded, his voice tight. "Will you speak or not?"

If she spoke, everything would be in vain. Her parents' legacy, Aunt Spring's hope, her own sliver of a chance for justice-it would all turn to dust. Even if she died here, tonight, she would not speak.

Soon, her back was a bloody, mangled mess. The tearing coarse cloth of her uniform fluttered in pieces in the wind, revealing the raw flesh beneath. She was helped up by the guards and forced to kneel again.

Daniel raised his hand again. Several more lashes fell, each one a hammer blow of agony. Olivia collapsed to the ground again, gasping for air like a dying fish, struggling to breathe as more blood gushed from her mouth.

The executioner stopped, his arm trembling. He couldn't help but plead. "Detective," he said, his voice hesitant. "Even for trained military personnel, twenty lashes is the limit. Any more and... she'll die."

Daniel rose from his chair. He wore a dark, immaculate suit. He walked over to where she lay and harshly stepped on her outstretched hand with his polished boot.

"It doesn't matter if you don't speak," he said, his voice low and menacing. He leaned down, his face close to hers. "Olivia Reed, did you underestimate me, or did you overestimate yourself?"

She managed a tragic, bloody smile, her voice faint and raspy. "Now that you're working for such a CEO," she whispered, "you're even more blind than I thought."

Daniel pressed down hard with his boot. Olivia, who had endured the whip without a sound, couldn't help but groan in pain.

"Still trying to sow discord?" he snarled, grinding his heel into her crushed fingers.