Chapter 182: Allison crept through the narrow corridor, each step measured until she found herself swallowed by the suffocating ckness of a hidden room.


    The kind of darkness that devoured hope, leaving only dread in its wake.


    Before she could even contemte how to escape, the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the room, steady and unhurried, like the ticking of a relentless clock.


    Someone else had entered the secret room.


    Great, just my luck.


    This is aplete nightmare.


    Allison hastily located the closest cab and hid inside.


    I told you to dig up every scrap of information on those thugs.


    If you cant get anything out of thest survivor, silence him.


    Dont bring any more of your messes back to my doorstep.


    Kens deep, resonant voice echoed through the room just as warm, dim lights flickered to life, casting shadows along the walls.


    Allison had never anticipated encountering him here, of all ces.


    Peering through the narrow gap in the cab door, she watched as Ken lifted his shirt with one hand, revealing the ripple of toned muscles and the smooth, defined lines of his back.


    But it wasnt his physique that sent a jolt of surprise through her.


    What truly shocked her was the wall behind him.


    It wasnt hiding any dark family secrets as she had imagined.


    Instead, the room was adorned with an array of whips and peculiar gadgets.


    Handcuffs dangled beside candles, and even cors hung in ce like relics of some unspoken indulgence.


    It was a collection tailored for desires she had never associated with him.


    Wasnt Ken supposed to be disinterested in women? He always carried himself with an air of aloofness, cool and detached, not someone youd picture indulging in such… extreme tastes.


    Allisons mind reeled.


    This was the forbidden room of the Lloyd family, a ce barred from outsiders, yet it held this assortment of tools.


    While she was still reeling, Ken shrugged off his shirt entirely, sitting on the couch.


    His reflection in arge mirror stared back at him as he methodically applied ointment to his wound.


    Beside him, his phone was on speaker, one voice after another reporting in, but his attention seemed split.


    Even from her hiding spot, Allison could detect the iciness in his voice.


    His words carried a venomous undercurrent,ced with irritation and an unmistakable threat.


    Screw up again, and dont expect mercy.


    There was no warmth in his tone, just a cold edge that hinted at unspoken cruelty.


    I dont have time for failures.


    This was not the indifferent Ken she had known here was a man whose words bled ruthlessness.


    He wielded them like weapons.


    And for the ones who were skinned alive, if any of them are still breathing, carve them up, piece by piece.


    His face remained impassive, as though the savagery he spoke of was as casual as a dinner n.


    Lets face it, they had iting.


    Allison found herself blindsided by the revtion of Kens concealed ruthlessness and icy demeanor.


    While she was aware that surviving in the world of wealth and power demanded certain skills, it was still hard to reconcile this brooding, violent version of Ken with the man she had once known.


    The chasm between the two versions of him was wide and unnerving.


    Listening to Ken calmly discuss brutal methods of torture as if he were merely debating the merits of a dinner menu made her stomach turn.


    There was no mistaking it he had walked down this dark road many times before.


    When Ken spoke to his subordinates, the sheer weight of his authority pressed down like a heavy stone, making everyone around him uneasy.


    It was no wonder the rumors painted him as a vtile madman, one who could flip from cold calction to explosive anger in the blink of an eye.


    But knowing this side of Ken didnt shock Allison too much.


    What truly puzzled her were the items on the wall.


    She lifted her gaze, studying the scene with sharper intent.


    The craftsmanship was undoubtedly striking, the materials fresh and fine, yet she hadnt expected Kens preferences to lean so far into the strange.


    Meanwhile, Ken remained blissfully unaware that another presence shared the room with him.


    With the precision of someone ustomed to pain, he applied ointment to the wound on his abdomen, barely blinking.


    His voice remained level as he instructed, Get my grandmother moved to a different sanatorium.


    Thest one had a nice view, but the staff couldnt care less about her.


    I remember West Mountains scenery being decent.


    Well set up a private facility there and put our own people in charge.


    The person on the other end of the line hesitated before saying, But moving her might stir up trouble.


    The director of the old sanatorium could make a scene.


    Kens face darkened, a thinyer of impatience creeping into his expression.


    His sneer carried a cold bite.


    Theyre all ipetent.


    I pay them more than enough every year, and they still mess up.


    Theirst blunder was bad enough.


    Im not leaving her there another day.


    His hand slipped, pressing an alcohol swab too hard against the wound.


    The sharp pain shouldve made anyone cry out, but Kens only response was a tightening of his jaw, a stoic refusal to let even loneliness betray his vulnerability.


    Silence from the phone line stretched, his subordinate clearly rattled by the rebuke.


    Understood, sir, came the subdued reply.


    The tension lingered for a beat.


    Ken slowly raised his head, catching his reflection in the mirror.


    His skin was a roadmap of scars crisscrossing over each other, mementos of old battles, with new wounds still red and raw, marking fresh defeats.


    As he pressed harder on the injury, the sting became a steady throb, but his mind wandered elsewhere,nding on thoughts of Allison.


    The mirror offered nofort, only a reminder.


    When she had treated his wounds, her raven-ck hair sometimes skimmed his skin, while her eyes cool and unyielding seemed to pierce through him as if nothing could escape her notice.


    Her gaze had been cold, but her hands, precise and delicate, moved with an almost unsettling tenderness.


    Now, staring at his reflection, it was as if her cold fingers were once again ghosting over his skin, numbing the pain with every light touch.


    Allison, hidden away inside the cab, furrowed her brow, her expression hardening.


    Peeking through the narrow gap, she noticed the thin sheen of sweat forming across Kens back.


    How could someone treat their injuries with such reckless indifference? He could have easily summoned a private doctor, yet here he was, tending to himself as if there were no one else in the world he could trust to do it.


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