Chapter 703

Caden retorted, “Even so, I wouldn’t be so cruel.” He refused to passively accept his fate, to be slaughtered and offered as another's feast.

Tears welled in Gareth's eyes as he sobbed, "Did you watch the video of my son being killed?"

Caden replied dismissively, "That's not my concern."

"Before he died," Gareth continued, "they burned him so badly he was unrecognizable. They peeled away layers of his skin and soaked it in saltwater while he was still alive. He endured unbearable pain until he finally passed away. His remains were scattered; I couldn't even gather his whole body."

Caden's hand trembled, scattering ash from his cigarette onto the floor. He remembered holding Gareth's older son—a boy full of hope and potential. The assassin, sent by Corey, had been sly and merciless.

Gareth’s voice cracked with weariness. "Caden, I don't have the luxury of choosing my fate. I have a younger son and a wife who need me. Even dying isn't an option."

Caden pressed his cigarette into the ashtray, the bitterness fading from his expression. There was no other path.

"Yes, I understand," he said, his voice calm but distant. "Go back, Gareth. From this moment on, we're strangers. Our paths will never cross again."

Gareth's shoulders slumped under the weight of his circumstances and Caden's words as others helped him from the room.

Caden sat motionless, enveloped in silence. He felt trapped in an unending nightmare, confronting fear and despair with unsettling clarity.

Yolanda lingered at the doorway, observing him. She knew the details of Dorian's schemes and understood Caden's fall was inevitable. He had been betrayed by those he trusted most; his efforts crushed in an instant. The blow was devastating for a man once so ambitious. Yolanda's heart ached. After watching silently, she entered.

"Caden."

He remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the void.

Yolanda approached slowly, offering a cup of coffee. Crouching before him, her eyes searched his. "Caden, you can't let this destroy you. Life will test you, knock you down, but you have to find a way to stand up again."

His gaze didn't waver. "Leave."

Yolanda flinched at the coldness in his voice, but she steadied herself and placed the cup down. "I need to tell you something," she said, her voice trembling. "I've been afraid to bring it up, worried it would push you too far."

She waited for a reaction, but his face remained impassive.