She's My Sleeping Pill

Chapter 964: NEGOTIATION

"I gave you every opportunity to walk away, Elliot," Rey said, his voice devoid of any warmth or remorse. He looked down at the man with a chilling, detached gaze. "I warned you, but you chose to treat my mercy like a suggestion. We may have shared a history as partners once, but in this world, sentiment is a liability. I don’t have any qualms about ending you; to me, you’re just another loose end that needed cutting."

"In exchange for my life, can you let them go?" The plea hung in the stagnant air, brittle and desperate. Elliot’s voice, though strained, carried a weight of finality that should have commanded respect.

Instead, silence followed—brief and suffocating—before Rey’s composure shattered. He threw his head back, a jagged, discordant laugh tearing from his throat. It was a sound devoid of mirth, echoing off the cold stone walls as if he had just been regaled with the most absurd punchline of the century.

When he finally leveled his gaze at him, his eyes were predatory, glittering with a cruel, dark amusement. "Let them go?" he repeated, the words dripping with mockery. He leaned in closer, his presence an overwhelming shadow that seemed to swallow the light. "Tell me, in what delusional reality do you possess the right to negotiate with me?"

"It was only an attempt, Rey! She was not successful! And isn’t that model safe now? Why go through with this?!" Elliot’s voice cracked, the words erupting from his lungs like jagged shards of glass. He was fading, his strength hemorrhaging with every ragged breath, yet his desperation burned with a final, flickering intensity. He clawed at the air, trying to anchor himself to the reality of the situation. "Just kill me. Take my life and let them walk away from this madness."

Rey didn’t flinch. Instead, he watched the display with a chilling, clinical detachment. He took a slow step forward, his eyes narrowing into predatory slits as he studied the raw agony etched into Elliot’s features. "You are in love with Celestine, aren’t you?" Rey’s voice was a low, dangerous purr, cutting through Elliot’s frantic pleading. "You wouldn’t be making such a pathetic spectacle of yourself if you weren’t." Then, he sighed as he tapped Elliot’s face with the knife. "Unfortunately, my men are hot on their tails and anytime soon, they will be delivered to me."

***

Once he was certain that Luiz was stable and Cayenne had fully regained her spirited vitality, Stefan retreated to the sanctuary of his office. To an outsider, the crisis had passed; the pieces of his life had seemingly fallen back into their designated slots. Yet, beneath the polished surface of his professional exterior, the recent brush with tragedy had left a lingering frost. The warmth he had allowed himself to feel was gone, replaced by a familiar, biting chill that seeped back into the marrow of his bones. Stefan’s heart, once thawing, had frozen over once more.

The atmosphere within the corporate headquarters shifted instantly to match his temperament. The executive floor became a gauntlet of tension. In a single afternoon, two directors were scorched by his icy scrutiny, their long-winded reports dismantled in seconds. A sales manager was effectively roasted alive during a brief meeting, left trembling by Stefan’s refusal to accept anything less than perfection. Even Erwin, usually the most trusted of his inner circle, could not evade the sudden onset of his master’s wrath. The lapse in security was a jagged wound in Stefan’s mind—a failure he could not overlook.

"You have lowered your guard simply because I have been lenient with you lately," Stefan stated, his voice a low, dangerous velvet that lacked even a hint of emotion. He stared at Erwin, his eyes like polished obsidian. "Do not mistake my temporary patience for a permanent change in my standards. If this happens again, there will be no discussion."

Stefan felt a flicker of internal conflict; he couldn’t be truly merciless to Erwin, knowing the man was a living legacy left by Reuben to protect Cayenne. However, leniency was a luxury they could no longer afford when the lives of those he loved hung in the balance.

"I understand, Sir Stefan," Erwin replied, his voice steady despite the weight of the reprimand. He bowed deeply, the gesture heavy with a renewed sense of duty. "I will personally revisit every security measure and protocol. I will ensure the safety of everyone is absolute." With a final nod, he retreated, leaving Stefan alone in the silent, frigid air of his office.

Stefan was on the verge of summoning Elena when his phone vibrated, displaying a lengthy, unfamiliar international sequence. While the specific digits were new, the area code struck a chord of cold recognition; originating from Italy. A frigid glint sharpened his gaze as he stared at the screen, his thumb moving with a calculated, lazy precision to press the red icon, silencing the intrusion.

The peace lasted less than a second. The device roared to life again, this time sporting a different set of numbers but trailing that same, persistent Italian code. Once more, he terminated the call without hesitation. This digital duel continued five more times, a relentless barrage of ringing that chipped away at his composure. Finally, his patience snapped. He swiped to answer, pressing the cool glass to his ear, but remained shrouded in a heavy, ominous silence, waiting for the caller to bleed first.

"My business in Greece in exchange for Julia and my son," the caller proposed—the voice of Daryl’s father, heavy with the weight of a man bartering for a legacy he couldn’t control. "I am fully aware she has crossed your bottom line, Stefan, but I implore you to forgive her on my behalf. Let them go. You were once children together; surely that history carries some weight?"

Stefan remained an unwavering statue of silence, the phone pressed to his ear like a cold stone. He offered no breath of acknowledgment, letting the man’s desperation fester in the quiet.

"I can add my shipping lines in Poland," the voice hurried, the stakes climbing as Stefan’s silence continued to strip away the elder man’s dignity. The offer was a king’s ransom, yet Stefan continued to ignore the frantic bidding. "If you agree, I will ensure they never set foot in your country again. If this pact is breached, they are yours to deal with as you see fit. I will never plead for your mercy again."

"Deal," Stefan finally responded, his voice a sharp, icy blade. "I will send them over on my private plane; I have no desire to alarm the public or the airport authorities with their hideous faces."