Marriage with my daughter's father: Darling please be gentle - Chapter 246

Chapter 246: Chapter 246: We are following the plan

After ending the call with Eric, Alexander let the phone drop to the nearby table, his fingers still loosely gripping the cold metal of the gun resting on his thigh. The silence that followed was suffocating.

Across the room, Agnes sat curled up on the floor, her knees drawn tightly to her chest, her face pale and tear-streaked. She looked like a tortured kitten small, trembling, and utterly helpless under the weight of his cold, unblinking stare.

“You’re far more well-behaved than I expected,” Alexander said, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His voice was calm, amused even, but laced with a venom that made her insides twist. “Pity. I thought you’d be more entertaining.”

Agnes flinched, her eyes snapping up to meet his. His chuckle low and devoid of warmth made her skin crawl.

“Who… who are you?” she asked, her voice a fragile whisper.

His laugh deepened, hollow and deadpan, like the echo of something long buried and rotting. There was nothing human in the sound, and it struck her deeper than any scream could have.

There was something terrifyingly wrong about him. It wasn’t just the gun or the threat of violence. It was the stillness, the certainty, the way he looked at her as though he already owned her fate. But what unsettled her more was the way he spoke to Eric. So casually. So familiarly. Like they shared secrets that went far beyond business.

This man was dangerous. More dangerous than she had imagined. And he wasn’t just involved, he was rooted in all of this.

Agnes hugged her knees tighter. For her child’s safety for her own she didn’t dare speak. She didn’t dare breathe wrong.

But her mind screamed with unanswered questions. Who was he? How did he know Eric? How did he know her parents?

Alexander leaned back, studying her with a distant amusement. Her trembling, her fear—it didn’t bother him. If anything, it confirmed what he already suspected.

He had kept his distance all these years, silently watching, gathering. He knew exactly who Agnes was. The spoiled, reckless brat his son got tangled up with. The same woman who once tried to mow down Winter with her car in a fit of jealous rage.

And yet… this? This fragile, broken thing in front of him?

He tilted his head, brow furrowing slightly.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I expected more fire from the girl who nearly committed murder just to get her way. But now…”

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Now you look like a scared little girl who’s finally run out of luck.”

Agnes felt her breath catch in her throat.

He knew.

Everything.

Her lies, her secrets, the sins she had buried—he knew them all. And worse, he didn’t seem surprised. Only bored.

“Tell me, Agnes…” Alexander’s voice dropped an octave, silk wrapped around steel. “Is this what you thought life would be like when you were busy playing queen in your little fantasy world with Eric? Hm?”

Agnes didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her voice had abandoned her entirely.

He laughed again, slow, derisive this time.

“You don’t know anything yet,” he said, rising to his feet. “But you will. Soon.”

With the gun still in his grip, he turned and walked toward the door. Agnes remained on the floor, frozen, a silent scream stuck in her throat.

Before leaving, Alexander paused at the doorway, glancing back at her one last time.

“And do try to behave, Agnes,” he said, almost gently. “It makes things less… messy.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

And in the silence that followed, Agnes realized something chilling.

She hadn’t met a man.

She had met a monster.

***

Alexander had barely stepped out of the apartment when his phone buzzed again. He checked the screen and sighed, his jaw tightening at the name flashing across it—Reeve.

He answered, his voice low and sharp. “I thought we agreed on discretion, Reeve.”

But the man on the other end didn’t seem concerned. In fact, he sounded irritated. “Discretion doesn’t pay the bills, Alexander. I need more money. Laying low isn’t cheap when everything around you bleeds your wallet dry.”

Alexander stopped mid-step, his expression darkening. “Didn’t I wire you a substantial amount yesterday?” he asked coldly. “What could you possibly need more for?”

There was a pause, then the unmistakable sneer in Reeve’s tone came through. “I’m planning on leaving the country, Alexander. It’s the only way I stay alive and out of reach. And if you’re smart, you’d want me far from here too.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed as he walked slowly toward his car. “Leaving the country wasn’t part of the arrangement,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You were supposed to stay put and keep your mouth shut until this was over.”

Reeve scoffed. “Plans change. Especially when I see how fast people are turning on each other. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust Eric. Hell, I don’t even trust myself anymore. But I do trust that a one-way ticket and a new name will give me a better shot than hiding like a damn rat.”

For a moment, there was only silence on Alexander’s end. Then, he exhaled slowly, his tone cooling into something more calculated.

“You’re scared,” he said. “That’s what this is. You think running will save you. But here’s what you’re forgetting, Reeve, wherever you go, I can find you.”

Reeve laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“It should,” Alexander said flatly. “You’re already running scared. And if I get even a hint that you’re planning to open your mouth to the wrong person, no passport, no border, no underground network will be enough to protect you.”

Reeve fell silent, but the defiance in his breathing lingered.

Alexander didn’t wait. “You’ll get what you need but no more than what I allow. If you so much as step out of line again, I won’t send money—I’ll send someone else.”

Then, he ended the call without waiting for a reply.

Sliding into his car, Alexander transferred the funds to Reeve—just enough to give the illusion of safety. Then, without another thought, he tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and started the car.

Reeve was becoming unstable. And unstable men were liabilities.

Alexander knew better than to pull strings with empty threats. He would let Reeve believe he had some measure of control. For now. But in Alexander’s world, knowledge was a noose—and Reeve had just tightened his own.

His escape plan wouldn’t last.

Because Reeve had just stepped onto borrowed time.

Across the city, Reeve stepped out of a rundown grocery shop, a plastic bag swinging lightly in his grip. His eyes darted around with the twitchy energy of a man always expecting a bullet from the shadows.

He didn’t notice the girl crouched behind the compound wall across the street.

Lilac pressed her back against the concrete, breath caught in her throat. She peeked out again, eyes narrowing as Reeve walked briskly toward the alley leading to the backlot.

“He’s leaving… he’s really leaving,” she whispered under her breath, one hand tightening around the strap of her satchel. Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with urgency.

But when she turned, expecting a response from her partner, all she felt was a sudden gust of wind rush past her side.

Her eyes widened.

“Hey! You can’t just follow him like that!” she hissed.

Stanley was already moving shoulders squared, stride unbothered, as if this were any ordinary stroll through the city.

Lilac pushed away from the wall and hurried to catch up, staying low. “Stanley! We had a plan—you made the plan!”

Stanley didn’t break pace or glance her way. “We are following the plan,” he said coolly.

Lilac had to quicken her steps to keep up, his stride was too fast, too purposeful for her liking. But this time, she didn’t argue. She simply fell into step beside him, silent and focused, trusting that whatever came next… they’d face it together.

As they neared the alley’s mouth, Stanley leaned in and whispered, “Your time.”

Before Lilac could respond, he turned and slipped away into a shadowy side street, vanishing between the buildings like smoke. She blinked, startled by the abruptness of his command, but didn’t hesitate long.

Meanwhile, several paces ahead, Reeve walked with quick, calculated steps, his shoulders tense and head low. Every instinct screamed caution.

He’d trained himself to blend in to disappear in plain sight. And so far, it had worked. He kept his cap low, his hoodie up, and his manner unassuming.

But something was off.

He felt it.

A presence.

At first, he didn’t look back. Could’ve been nothing. Could’ve been paranoia.

But the feeling pressed closer, heavier with every step. Like breath on the back of his neck.

He slowed, his hand inching toward the pocket where his blade rested.

Then, all at once, he spun around.

And froze.

A woman stood behind him alone, silent, and calm.

Reeve’s eyes narrowed as he took her in. Her posture was too still, her gaze too direct.

But then, something unexpected happened.

The woman’s eyes fluttered, her body swayed—and before Reeve could even process what he was seeing, she collapsed right in front of him.

One second she was standing, unreadable and poised—the next, she hit the pavement like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Reeve froze, completely stunned.

What the hell just happened?