Chapter 971 I Haven't Confessed Yet
"Steven, Ethan, Winston—you're absolutely right," Abella began, her voice steady and calculated. "The mastermind will be watching our every move from the shadows now. We can't afford to panic. Instead, we need to lock up these assassins and continue spreading word that Jacob is still alive, that he could expose their secrets at any moment. Their paranoia will be their downfall—it'll force them to reveal themselves."
She paused, a strategic gleam in her eyes. "Christmas is approaching, which means we'll have a steady stream of visitors—distant relatives, business associates, and especially now that my identity is public, curious acquaintances wanting to pay their respects. If they want to verify whether Jacob is truly dead, they'll almost certainly come calling, probing for answers themselves."
A knowing smile curved her lips. "When that happens, whoever shows the most interest in Jacob, whoever insists on visiting the basement—that's our culprit."
"Brilliant strategy," Steven agreed with evident admiration. "With Christmas so close, they won't risk any rash moves that might draw unwanted attention."
"We simply wait for them to come to us during the holiday, and everything will fall into place," Ethan added, his confidence growing.
After all, strangers had no reason to harm them. The person who orchestrated that hospital fire years ago had to be someone within their inner circle—someone who knew them intimately.
The mastermind's original targets had been Beckett and Kimberly. Abella had simply been an innocent victim, switched at birth during that conspiracy, setting off the chain of events that followed.
"With today's sweep capturing every assassin, they know we'll be on high alert. They won't send more lambs to slaughter in the next few days," Winston concluded with certainty.
"I wonder how Dennis is faring," Abella mused.
As if summoned by her words, a bodyguard approached. "Ms. Medici, we've conducted a thorough sweep of the basement. No surveillance devices detected—we've checked every inch multiple times."
Abella nodded approvingly, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. "After I finish the interrogation, I need you to..." She outlined her plan in hushed tones.
The bodyguard's eyes widened with admiration at Abella's cunning. "Understood, ma'am."
"Abella, you're absolutely brilliant. The mastermind will have no choice but to believe it," Winston said, affectionately ruffling her hair. Despite her youth, her composure under pressure and quick thinking continued to astound them all.
Meanwhile, Saskia had barely left the Medici Villa when she realized she was being tailed. Her professional racing instincts kicked in immediately—seven or eight vehicles were pursuing her relentlessly. Though she managed to shake off two or three cars with skillful maneuvering, the remaining pursuers clung to her trail like bloodhounds.
As she passed beneath a bridge under construction, a silenced shot punctured her tire. Her car spun out of control, slamming into a concrete support pillar. Glass exploded everywhere—windshield, windows, creating a deadly shower of shards.
The airbag deployed just in time, though flying glass still managed to slice a thin cut across her forehead. Dozens of armed assassins emerged from their vehicles, unleashing a barrage of gunfire at her position.
Saskia unbuckled her seatbelt and lowered her seat, lying flat as bullets shredded her car's interior. Someone lobbed a small smoke grenade through her window—the fumes were subtle but insidious, making her drowsy and disoriented.
She pressed her arm against her nose, but couldn't fight off the overwhelming fatigue creeping through her system. The two potted plants Abella had given her lay overturned in the passenger footwell, soil scattered everywhere. As she reached for them, several assassins spotted her movement and opened fire again, forcing her back down.
The rumble of approaching vehicles filled the air—more cars arriving with menacing intent. Saskia knew this was the end.
With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and opened WhatsApp. Abella's name sat at the top of her contacts. She recorded a voice message, her words slurred with exhaustion: "Abella... those flowers you gave me probably won't survive this. Next time you visit me, bring something cheaper—I'd hate for you to waste money... Please look after my parents, marry Phillipe soon, and live a safe, happy life... Promise me you won't do anything dangerous anymore."
Including seeking revenge for her death.
Saskia released the send button just as rapid footsteps approached outside. She was trapped—the unknown gas had left her helpless as a fish on a cutting board. Under normal circumstances, escaping would have been child's play, but drugged and unarmed, she was defenseless.
The car door was wrenched open. Saskia closed her eyes weakly, barely registering someone calling her name.
"Saskia?"
An urgent, desperate voice.
"Saskia?"
More cautious now, tinged with fear.
"Saskia?!"
Strong arms lifted her from the wreckage.
Who could possibly be rescuing her?
Through heavy eyelids, she glimpsed Dennis's face. Why would she be hallucinating about him in her final moments? He'd certainly left enough psychological scars to haunt her dying thoughts.
"Stay with me!" Dennis cradled Saskia against his chest, his eyes blazing with murderous fury as he surveyed her condition. His men had already subdued the dozen assassins.
He turned his lethal gaze on the captured killers. "What did you do to her?"
Silence.
Dennis's boot connected with the nearest assassin, sending him flying several feet. "I asked you a question!"
Still no response.
His next kick caught another assassin in the face, blood spattering as the man crumpled. Dennis followed up with a vicious stomp to his head.
The remaining assassins recoiled at the legendary brutality they'd only heard whispered about.
Saskia's grip on Dennis's coat began to weaken, her hand falling limp.
"Don't you dare die!" Dennis's voice cracked with panic. "I haven't told you how I feel yet—you haven't agreed to be my girlfriend! I forbid you to die! Wake up!"
Saskia forced her eyes open again, confused by the genuine anguish in his voice. Since when did Dennis care whether she lived or died? She'd expected indifference at best, not this raw desperation.
The gas must be causing hallucinations.
"That's it—keep your eyes open! Look at me! I'm Dennis!" He shook her gently. "I'm in love with you—you're not allowed to die!"
His subordinates exchanged glances, never having witnessed their boss make such an emotionally charged declaration.
Saskia was certain she'd misheard. Dennis... in love with her? The hallucination was becoming absurd.
Exhaustion overwhelmed her desire to make sense of it all. As her eyelids began to flutter closed, Dennis's voice thundered: "If you die on me, I swear I'll make you regret it!"
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