The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 180: The Cold-Blooded Operative

A myriad of questions swirled tempestuously within the minds of both Julian Sterling and Ethan Caldwell, yet neither man dared to break the heavy silence that had descended upon the room. They understood instinctively that this was not the moment to interject. Dahlia Thorne had merely peeled back the very edge of the curtain, the prologue of her revelation was finished. But the main act, dense with shadows and hidden machinations, was yet to come. It was evident in the way she held herself, a certain languid satisfaction radiating from her posture, that she was thoroughly enjoying the sensation of holding the keys to such devastating secrets. She was the narrator of this tragedy, and she would dictate the pace.

"I imagine a storm of incredulity is raging within you right now." Dahlia murmured, her voice smooth like velvet over gravel: "You must be wondering how I came to possess the knowledge that Gabriel Cole is the puppet master behind this entire charade. And furthermore, if I am truly aware that he is the man who indirectly signed my parents’ death warrants, why in the world would I remain by his side? Why would I continue to play the role of the docile, adoring companion, smiling at the monster who destroyed my lineage?"

Dahlia idly twisted the ring on her finger, the metal catching the light. The smile that curved her lips deepened, but there was no warmth in it, it was a distinctive expression of mockery and self-deprecation.

" The answer is quite simple, Gabriel Cole remains blissfully ignorant. He does not know that I have seen the entire board. In his arrogant eyes, I am still the naive, foolish Dahlia of the past, broken, pliable, and dim-witted, like my sister. When I returned to Saint Lawrence City with this new face, I did not have to hunt him down, he was the one who sought me out. He came to me bearing a portfolio of fabricated evidence, a beautifully constructed lie designed to convince me that Cedric Harrington was the architect of my misery. He claimed Cedric staged the scandals to ruin my sister, pushing my family into the abyss of death. And the motive Gabriel spun? He said that Cedric needed to sabotage Jason Harrington’s marriage alliance to seize power within the family. After all, if that commercial union had succeeded, Cedric’s position in the hierarchy would have been critically threatened."

She paused, letting out a short, hollow laugh that echoed in the quiet room.

"It is truly laughable, is it not? Would you believe me if I told you that Cedric Harrington actually did harbor such intentions? The greed of the human heart is a bottomless pit, after all. However, intent and capability are two very different things. Cedric is simply not intelligent enough to conceive of such a venomous, intricate plan. He lacked the vision. But, coincidentally, someone else was more than willing to pave the path for the deer to run into the trap, borrowing a knife to do the killing. There are certain people in this world who believe themselves to be the brilliant strategists, the seasoned hunters lurking in the shadows. But in the end, they fail to realize that they, too, are merely pawns, sacrificial pieces on a chessboard, toyed with and maneuvered by a hand far greater than their own."

Her gaze drifted, her expression hardening into something akin to stone.

"Cedric Harrington is a fool, blinded by petty greed. Gabriel Cole is a narcissist, blinded by his own conceit. And as for Daisy... my dear sister... she was weak. So incredibly, unforgivably weak."

She spoke of these people with a conversational casualness, her tone flat and even. Yet, the moment her sister’s name crossed her lips, that facade cracked just enough to reveal a sneer of profound contempt. It was a look of utter disdain, devoid of any mourning or familial tenderness.

The volume of information Dahlia Thorne had just unloaded was staggering. It was a deluge of dark secrets, tearing away the glamorous veil of the aristocracy to reveal the rotting, incestuous power struggles beneath. In terms of a transaction, she had certainly shown enough sincerity to justify a partnership. However, Julian Sterling found himself hesitating. He could not determine how much of this shocking narrative was the absolute truth and how much was a tapestry of lies, woven with threads of half-truths to entrap them.

Even now, he could not bring himself to fully trust this woman. Her mind was too deep, her schemes too layered. What if everything she had said from the moment she sat down was merely a perfect script, a performance designed to win their confidence? It was true that the story of losing one’s entire family was heartbreaking, a tragedy that would elicit sympathy from anyone with a soul. But Julian knew that in this world, there were cold-blooded creatures who did not care for blood ties. Such people were capable of ruthlessly exploiting their own tragic circumstances, painting a picture of sorrow to lower their enemy’s guard, only to strike at the fatal weakness when compassion blinded their judgment.

The business world was a slaughterhouse. The upper class was merciless. The human heart was a labyrinth of deceit.

This was the harsh, unforgiving lesson that anyone wishing to set foot in this glittering but decaying world had to engrave into their very bones if they wished to survive.

While Julian was still internally debating, weighing the risks, and formulating a way to verify her claims without stepping into a snare, the man beside him broke his silence. Ethan Caldwell, who had been observing the woman with the stillness of a predator, suddenly spoke. His voice was low, baritone, and carried a weight that seemed to drop the temperature of the room by several degrees.

"You are an operative of CORE."

CORE?

The name hung in the air, alien and cryptic. It was short, sharp, yet it exuded an aura of dangerous secrecy. Julian furrowed his brows, frantically ransacking his memory. He searched through every Chapter of the original novel he had read, every footnote, every plot twist, but he came up empty. He had never heard of an organization with that name. It was a variable that did not exist in his knowledge of this world’s script.

However, the man beside him had no time to offer explanations. Ethan’s piercing gaze remained locked onto Dahlia, pinning her to her seat as he continued his interrogation, his deduction unraveling her history with terrifying precision.

"Years ago, when you abruptly left your family and severed all contact, it was not an act of teenage rebellion or escape. It was because you were recruited into the inner circle of CORE. Furthermore, the plastic surgery, the complete alteration of your face, was not a recent decision made for the sake of revenge upon your return. You underwent the procedure the moment you left, stripping away your old identity to become a ghost. It is likely just a coincidence that the organization assigned you a high-priority mission involving the Harrington and Cole families, perhaps even a directive to seize control of Saint Lawrence City itself. That is the only reason you returned at such a serendipitous time. If not for the mission..."

"If not for the mission, I would never have set foot in this suffocating, narrow little city again." Dahlia Thorne cut in, finishing Ethan’s sentence with an eerie calmness. She made no attempt to deny his accusation. In fact, she seemed relieved to drop the charade.

Her voice turned glacial, stripped of all emotion as she spoke of the dead: "The death of my family is their affair, their destiny. It has absolutely nothing to do with me."

She declared this with the indifference of a stranger reading an obituary in a damp newspaper. There was not a flicker of pain for the three lives that had birthed her and raised her. No, to be precise, if one were to count the unborn child that perished in Daisy Thorne’s womb, it was four human lives, four souls extinguished, and she dismissed them as easily as brushing dust from her shoulder.