"He said that he has something to hold against you, but he won‘t use it thoughtlessly because he
needs to reserve it for the right timing," Wanda said hastily, "as for what‘s the right timing that he was
talking about, I have no idea. Charlie is a sly man. I haven‘t known him for long, so he doesn‘t really
trust me. But we are content with our partnership so just give me more time and I will find a way to get
that box back to you."
"You already know that the box contains something that would post a threat to me; why would you give
it back to me should you ever get your hands on the box?" Elliot said sarcastically.
Wanda froze. Her mind went blank as she dazedly tried to think back to what she had just said. Why
did Elliot sound as though he had been provoked?
"I just wanted to know if Charlie has the box. Now that it‘s confirmed that he does, you are useless to
me," Elliot gritted out coldly, "Wanda Tate, whatever you are plotting, I know everything."
Wanda was scared senseless at merely the sound of his voice.
"Elliot! I am not plotting anything! I wouldn‘t dare to! My nemesis is Avery, not you! Your business and
your life have nothing to do with me..."
"Avery is a part of my life," he interrupted her and said, "Cole was the one who got your daughter killed;
Jack Tate was the one who drafted the will and left Tate Industries to Avery‘s hands. The only reason
you see Avery as your nemesis is because you have been so used to bullying her that your jealousy
has consumed you when you see that she was doing better than you."
Wanda‘s hand on her phone started to tremble.
"I won‘t kill you now," Elliot drawled, his tone powerful and intimidating, "because death would free you;
whereas keeping you alive means you remain tortured. I will make it so that you beg for the sweet
release of death in the end."
Wanda‘s blood ran cold. "Elliot Foster, don‘t forget that I was the one who brought you and Avery
together to begin with! I was her step–mother! I was her family for over twenty years!"
"You killed your mother. I won‘t give you the pleasure of a happy ending," he said, before hanging up
collapsed onto her seat.
Though Elliot had said that he wouldn‘t kill her for the time being, her fear had only grown.
Indeed, true horror was when one could not tell one‘s fate. If she wanted to turn the table, she would
have to obtain the crimson box before Charlie; that box was the key to staying alive for her.
At night, the looks in Elliot‘s eyes darkened as he burned through cigarette after cigarette.
He wanted to be a good man, but the gods had not rewarded him for it; instead, there were always
people who tried to challenge his boundaries. If that was the case, he might as well continue being the
bad guy. He put out the cigarette and made a phone call.
"Where is Charlie now?"
"He is at a dinner meeting."
"Keep your eyes on him."
"Yes, Mr. Foster. Do you have any further instructions for me?"
"Yes."
At three in the morning, one of the high–end residential buildings in the city center caught on fire,
followed by horrifying explosions from where the fire had started.
Instantly, the sky was lit by fire.
The petrifying crimson flame burnt bright through the night and it almost seemed like the world was
ending.
Just then, Elliot sat in the empty room that once belonged to Shea in a formal black suit.
As the noises of explosions pierced through the sky, he held a wine glass in one hand and a bottle of
wine in another to pour himself a glass.
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