Theodore Vance was certain.

Only the true founder of Aethelgard Industries represented a genuine threat to him.

His cold gaze returned to Margaret Blackwood.

Disdain was etched into his expression.

"You share the same recklessness as the others," he stated, his voice icy. "This time, you frightened Evelyn. I promised her I would make amends for that fear. The only suitable compensation is your suffering."

A deceptively gentle smile touched Theodore's lips.

"I'll deal with you first. Alexander can wait."

Margaret's eyes widened in shock. "No, Mr. Vance, I beg you!"

Before she could continue, Theodore added casually, "Let's start by ensuring you'll never use your hands again."

Several bodyguards nodded immediately. "Understood."

They moved toward Margaret, who was tied up and completely vulnerable.

Terror washed all the color from her face.

In a frantic burst of panic, Margaret tried to struggle to her feet.

"Help! Somebody! Someone help me!" she screamed, her voice hoarse.

She barely managed a few steps before the bodyguards closed the distance effortlessly.

They overpowered her with ease.

They forced her down, restraining her arms, preparing to break them.

Tears streamed down Margaret's cheeks as she pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation. "Spare me! I swear, I'll never do it again! I promise!"

Regret clawed at her. She never should have drugged Evelyn.

But Theodore remained utterly unmoved, his face a mask of indifference.

He spoke without a trace of emotion, his tone cool and detached. "Proceed."

Margaret's eyes were wide with pure terror.

Sweat poured down her face, each drop stinging her skin.

In that moment, all her high-society grace evaporated.

She was reduced to a broken, desperate figure, trembling on the floor.

The man before her was infinitely more ruthless and terrifying than Alexander could ever be.

Had she known, she would have chosen prison under Alexander's authority over falling into Theodore's grasp.

Before the thought fully formed, a sharp, sickening crack echoed through the room as a bodyguard twisted her wrist.

A raw, agonizing scream tore from her throat.

The pain was so intense it nearly made her black out.

Her face was drained of color.

Her body shook violently, soaked in a cold sweat.

Her hands hung limp, trembling uncontrollably.

"Help... Someone, help..." she croaked, her voice barely audible.

Margaret collapsed completely, her throat raw from screaming.

The excruciating pain overwhelmed every one of her senses.

Theodore observed her suffering with an impassive face, as if watching a meaningless spectacle.

"Still conscious? The pain doesn't seem severe enough," he remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. "Perhaps we should use a knife and cut your hands off. Then, when Evelyn sees you, she might feel some satisfaction."

In that moment, Margaret was utterly speechless.

She could not comprehend the cold terror that Theodore radiated.

He was a living nightmare.

A monster born from her deepest fears.

Margaret teetered on the edge of consciousness, her body shaking uncontrollably, desperate to escape the agony.

"Theodore!" she shouted, her voice strained and raw. "You're a monster! A man like you! With Evelyn's character, she would never be drawn to someone like you!"

The moment the words escaped her lips, Theodore's calm facade shattered.

His expression darkened instantly.

His gaze turned frigid and unblinking, as if Margaret were nothing more than insignificant dust before him.

Evelyn would never fall for him?

He would not accept that.

He could not accept that.

"Continue," Theodore commanded, his voice as cold as ice.

His intention was clear—he meant to end her life right there.

But just as a bodyguard moved to obey the order, a frantic shout cut through the tense silence.

"Boss! We have a problem! There's an intruder!"