The Heir And The Servent Started From A Bet novel Chapter 128

Chapter 128

They watched, paralyzed, as the heavy door opens.

The sound echoed like a gunshot and freezing every breath in their lungs.

A man stepped in, his presence enough to steal the last bit of hope they had left

Charles Blackwell.

Mia’s mouth went dry.

No.

No, no, no.

It can’t be

But it was.

The men who had dragged them here immediately straightened and lowered their heads in submission.

She had never met him in person before, but she had heard the stories.

It was him.

Charles Blackwell.

The man whose name made her blood run cold.

Her heart sank so violently she thought it might stop.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. The room fell into silence as soon as as he stepped in this room

His eyes swept over them like they were insects. Something filthy. A stain on the expensive glass of his perfect world.

No one dared move.

No one even breathed.

Then he spoke, and Mia swore the temperature dropped.

“The Turners,” Charles said, calm as still water. Too calm.

Mia’s skin broke into goosebumps. Her stomach twisted with dread.

Her eyes flicked toward her family, though she couldn’t bring herself to turn fully. She didn’t need to. She could feel their fear. Smell it in the room. Thick like smoke before fire.

Her mom was trembling, her face pale. Lily was biting her lip, Ann had her arms wrapped around herself. Ethan’s head was bowed, fists clenched on his knees. He knew. He recognized what they were dealing with. And he was afraid.

Mia clutched her hands into fists to stop them from shaking, but her fingers wouldn’t listen.

“The number one stain in this town,” Charles said, looking directly at her mother now, “should have wiped you off when I

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Chapter 128

had the chance. Would’ve saved myself, and this town a whole lot of trouble.”

His voice was like poison. Cold, venomous, deliberate. Every word delivered with same amount of hatred that sent a shiver crawling down Mia’s back.

He stepped closer, slowly, like a lion circling a wounded prey.

“Mr. Blackw-” her mother tried to speak, her voice trembling.

“Silence,” Charles snapped.

The words hit like a whip. Mia flinched. Her mother recoiled and gasped, placing a hand over her chest, eyes wide with disbelief.

He kept walking. “You came into this town and littered it with these stains you call children. You think anyone doesn’t see it? You’ve polluted this place-pretending to work, pretending to be descent, pretending like you’re not a pack of whores.”

His voice was rising now, not in volume, but in intensity. The venom thickened. It was personal. Deep. Boiling for years, and now pouring out like acid.

“And you.” He turned, eyes like knives now locked on Ethan. “Your only mission is to kill the vision of the youth. To drag the rich of Willowcrest down to your level with drugs.”

Ethan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His head hung lower. Not in shame, but in terror. Because Charles Blackwell is one person in this town you don’t want his attention.

Charles Blackwell is a man you pray never to encounter in this town especially if you’re from the other side of Willowcrest.

And Ethan knows that…. They all do.

No one said anything.

No one moved.

The warehouse suddenly felt colder, and yet her skin was burning. Her heart was pounding so fast it felt like it might break through her chest.

Her ears rang, her eyes stung. She bit down on her lip to stop herself from screaming. Or begging. Or throwing up.

Charles just stood there. Watching them like they were the reason the world was dirty.

Mia could feel it now-he wasn’t here to scare them.

He was here to bury them.

Charles Blackwell turned his full attention toward her.

His stare was icy, razor-sharp, and without an ounce of humanity.

She instinctively backed into the cold wall behind her, hands trembling at her sides.

He took slow steps toward her, like a predator savoring the fear of its prey. And Mia? She couldn’t breath.

“You,” Charles said, his voice dangerously low, almost like a whisper. But there was more power in that whisper than a scream. “You have the audacity to lie in the same bed with my son as if you were equals.”

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“You had the audacity to talk to him? To breathe near him?”

Mia opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her throat closed up, blocked by the lump of pure terror sitting there. Her lips parted slightly, but all she could do was whimper.

Charles chuckled, shaking his head like she was some foolish child who thought she could outsmart a master. He turned his glare toward her mother.

“Mary Turner,” he said, voice now dripping with venom. “First, you send your drug-peddling son to destroy my eldest. That wasn’t enough, was it? Now you send your slut daughter to finish the job with my youngest?”

“I didn’t know,” Mary choked out. Her voice cracked with desperation. “I swear to you, I didn’t know she was dating him. Not until a few days ago. I would’ve stopped her. I would’ve-”

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