Echoes of Vengeance: The Sweet Wife's Perfect Revenge-Chapter 204: The Circle of Vultures

At Silvers Club,

The Silvers Club reverberated with music and heat, walls glittering with neon and polished chrome. Rich kids sprawled in booths with their admirers, while others danced too close on the crowded floor. Smoke, perfume, and expensive liquor filled the air.

Alaric cut through the noise like a blade. His overcoat fell heavy against his frame, his stride steady, unhurried, yet commanding enough that people instinctively parted ways for him.

His expression was colder than the ice when his gaze swept the hall, before locking onto the man at the far end. Leo Silvers, issuing orders to his men near the bar.

The manager leaned in and whispered in Leo’s ear. "Alaric Lancaster has arrived."

Leo straightened instantly, plastering on a smile, already calculating. He knew what Alaric’s presence meant. Trouble, opportunity, or both.

"Ric... long time," Leo drawled as he extended his hand.

Alaric’s eyes didn’t even flicker to his hand when he walked past him without a word.

The smile on Leo’s face faltered, his jaw clenched, but he turned smoothly, falling into step, following Alaric to the shadowed corner where music softened enough to talk.

"I heard about the accident at the event," Leo began casually, testing the waters.

Alaric didn’t answer. He reached into his coat, pulled out folded papers, and tossed them onto the cocktail table between them.

Leo’s brows shot up when he unfolded the papers. It was a deed to a prime commercial building north of the city. It was the next booming territory and was expensive.

The reward was so tempting that Leo wanted to agree to the deal before even listening to it.

"That will be yours," Alaric said at last, his voice cutting colder than ice.

He wasn’t there to meet and greet to waste words. He had no time to sugarcoat his words. He got down to the terms without wasting a minute.

Leo’s fingers tightened around the papers, greed flashing in his eyes. "What do I have to do?"

Alaric leaned in, his tone low and firm, "Meet Damien Ashford. Find the truth."

Though he had guessed the reason, a flicker of doubt crossed Leo’s face. "He’s behind bars. How could he possibly..."

Alaric’s gaze narrowed at him, sharp as a knife’s edge.

The unfinished question died in Leo’s throat. The pieces clicked, and the blood drained from his face. Ashfords and Cullens were always closer than most realized.

Leo swallowed. "Tomorrow is Sunday. I can only get in to see him on Monday."

Alaric’s jaw flexed. That was the problem. If anybody... Correction, if this was planned, a lot would be filing a case against Aveline and Grace, and Bloom. She would be detained tomorrow, they wouldn’t be able to bail her out. Then she would be presented before the justice on Monday on suspicion of further investigation.

He needed proof before then, something so strong it could clear her name once and for all.

"Bring me evidence," he said, voice dropping, final as a verdict. "Whispering Palms will be yours." He turned and walked away, not sparing Leo another glance.

Leo stood frozen, staring at Alaric’s back, unable to believe the words he heard. ’Whispering Palms!?’ Alaric’s luxurious resort chain, worth hundreds of millions a month.

The prize was intoxicating, almost too good to believe.

But Monday was too far. His mind raced, torn between the thrill of the reward and the risk of encountering Damien.

For the first time that night, the music seemed too loud, the club too suffocating for him to think clearly.

.....

At Cullen’s Villa

The villa was quiet, the family members had retired for the night except the CEO. He sat in his private lounge, a drink untouched on the side table.

Relief coursed through him that they had escaped unharmed, but his mind wrestled with the question, how such a flawless event could collapse into chaos within minutes.

His butler appeared at the door. "Sir, Mr. Marston has arrived."

Theodore stepped inside, polished to perfection in an impeccable three-piece suit, a round hat tilted, and a smoking pipe twirling lazily between his fingers. His eyes were bright with the glee that stepped all over Aveline, but he forced his expression into concern.

"CEO Cullens," Theodore said smoothly, voice tinged with false sympathy, "the moment I heard about the disaster, I came running. I was worried for your well-being all the way."

The CEO exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I’m glad you were late. Else, you might have been stuck there too."

At that, Theodore’s eyes flickered, his fake concern vanishing. He leaned forward, his voice sharpening into a hiss. "Why are you sitting here, stunned, when you should have your lawyers tearing that Laurent girl apart?"

Cullen was stunned. Aveline was cleaning up there when he ran away to safety. Why would he get lawyers on her?

Theodore continued, "She dared to quote you absurd money for this event, and look what she’s delivered. Ruins, deaths, and scandals splashed across the world. This isn’t the moment to sit and feel safe. You should strike now. Don’t just demand the fee back, quote ten times, twenty if you must. For your emotional trauma, your family’s humiliation, your business losses. Crush her."

Cullen blinked, caught off guard. He hadn’t thought in those terms, he was still replaying the screams, the smoke, the collapse. But Theodore’s words woke him out of his daze.

Ten times. Twenty times. ’Why shouldn’t he?’

He picked up his phone and ordered his secretary to summon his lawyers at once.

Theodore smiled faintly, content, and sank into the chair opposite him. He stayed, watching, ensuring Cullen didn’t lose momentum or nobody reached out to him to stand in favor of Aveline Laurent.

Within an hour, a team of lawyers filled the lounge. Files and laptops opened, notes exchanged. An informal meeting turned heated as they pieced through every possible angle of the situation while studying the Grace and Bloom contract.

Theodore leaned back, interjecting now and then with more venomous ideas to bury Aveline.

At the end of three hours, a senior lawyer cleared his throat. "Sir, I will read through the charges we have consolidated."

His voice carried weight as he listed them, "Breach of contract, event not delivered as promised.

Loss of reputation, scandal destroying the Cullen family’s standing.

Loss of business opportunities, investors withdrawing.

Compensation clauses, ten times the project cost.

Irreparable damage to Cullen’s construction influence.

Psychological trauma, family members, employees, and guests are distressed.

Loss of talents, employees killed.

Loss of manpower, employees injured.

Luxury damages, jewelry, and couture lost in chaos."

Theodore’s lips curved in satisfaction. This should be enough to strike at Aveline with financial and reputation loss. More criminal charges would be taken care of by the state police, and the number of deaths.

Cullen, however, hesitated, his brows furrowing. "But... It’s Laurent we’re talking about. And Lancasters were present as well. This could spiral..."

Theodore cut in, firm. "You’re not committing a crime, CEO Cullen. You are demanding justice. Strong men don’t falter at the shadows of family names. You face them head-on. And the law is on your side."

Cullen let out a slow breath. Right, law was on their side, he was convinced, "File them first thing in the morning."

"Good," Theodore said, rising from his seat. Then he added silkily, "And here’s another thought, why not extend your hand to your employees? Hire lawyers on their behalf. Lead the charge. Fight for them as well. You’ll look like a man of the people, not just a businessman."

Cullen nodded with careful consideration. He was getting a lot of money, if he helped his employees, he would be seen as a people’s man, a kind man, not a greedy businessman.

Theodore left the villa, satisfaction simmering beneath his composed demeanor. His next destination was the hospital.

.....

At Lifeline Hospital, outside the ICU

The celebrity’s manager paced the corridor, frantic, snapping at anyone who approached. When Theodore’s shadow fell across him, the man looked up. He hesitated, looking at the man in an expensive tailored suit, but snapped at him anyway, "Who the f**k are you? Get away from here."

Theodore didn’t introduce himself or get offended by the manager. He adjusted his hat, lowering his voice into a smooth purr. "I heard about your client’s condition. Tragic... truly tragic. And unforgivable. Grace & Bloom must be held accountable for this."

The manager’s face twisted, recalling his celebrity under the wall. "They nearly killed him. My star is fighting for his life. His career, his endorsements, everything’s at stake. I’ll ruin them if I have to."

"That’s precisely what you should do," Theodore encouraged, leaning closer. "But don’t limit yourself to empty words. File charges. Demand compensation, not just for medical costs, but for every lost opportunity while your star fights back to live. His image, his contracts, his fans’ heartbreak. Do you realize how much his fanbase could move this case?"

The manager blinked, then frowned. "Fanbase?"

Theodore smiled like a snake. "Laurents are powerful. If this stays in the courts alone, they will bury it under some expensive brand rug. But if you use his fans, if you ignite social media, the law cannot ignore you. You won’t just be fighting for your star. You’ll be leading an army of millions demanding justice for him."

The manager’s eyes gleamed with sudden clarity, his fists tightening. "Yes... Yes, you’re right. His fans will tear her apart."

"Exactly," Theodore murmured, satisfied by his words. "Let them roar for him. And while they do, let your lawyers bleed the Laurents dry."

He smirked, leaving the manager who was already typing furiously on his phone. The wrath of the fanbase would soon crash down on Aveline like a tsunami.