Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 339: Unconditionally

–Lore–

We arrived at the mansion.

Now, this place had been intruded on before—multiple times, actually. Not because the security was weak. Please. The walls were high, reinforced, lined with fences and barbed wire like something straight out of a dystopian movie.

But walls don’t matter when people can fly.

Helicopter entry. That’s my best guess. It happened before—and yet, somehow, nothing inside the property was ever damaged. Which is... unsettling, if you think about it too long. So I don’t.

"Grandma!" Alyssa cried, bolting straight into the living room.

Her grandparents were already there, waiting. She threw herself into her grandmother’s arms, then hugged her grandfather next, tears spilling like she’d been holding them in the entire ride.

They chuckled softly at her—thinking she was just being overly emotional.

They had no idea how terrified she actually was.

The faint murmur of police voices filled the background—they were already checking the scene—but honestly, we had our own people for that. Private investigators. Faster. Smarter. Less... paperwork.

I walked over and hugged Aly’s mom and dad. They hugged me back warmly, patting my back like I was one of their own.

Yeah. I like them.

"Aly-babe," I called gently. "I’m going to work, okay?"

She nodded, still clinging to her grandmother.

That was my cue.

I headed straight to my bedroom and slipped through the secret door—because of course there’s a secret door—leading down to the nest.

My sanctuary. My battlefield. My playground.

When I got there, Livana was already seated, issuing commands like a general in the middle of war. Calm. Precise. Deadly.

I grabbed a bottle of Pocari Sweat—500ml, because hydration matters even during cyber warfare—and dropped into my chair, slipping my headset on.

Game on.

Time to gather everything.

All the cameras in the Blackwell compound had glitches.

Convenient.

But what they didn’t know? Every single recording streams directly to our server.

So yeah... nice try.

We were still going to find out who killed the nurse.

Still, one question kept looping in my head like a corrupted file.

Why?

Why the nurse?

Did she see something? Hear something? Know something she wasn’t supposed to?

Hmm.

Now that’s worth digging into.

I spun my swivel chair toward my boss.

"You got names, boss?"

She nodded, fingers flying across her keyboard like she was composing a symphony. A second later, the names popped up on my screen.

I ran facial recognition across satellite feeds.

Three missing bastards.

Two already spotted.

Out of the three suspects, one could easily be a scapegoat. The expendable one. The one meant to take the fall.

Meanwhile, the other two?

Walking around casually. Breathing. Existing. Like they didn’t just ruin someone’s life.

Bold. Stupid. Or both.

They even circled back near the Blackwell residence, claiming they were off duty.

Cute excuse.

We needed the third one.

"I tried tracking Raynaldo Lopez," Livana said.

His phone was pinging a location—clear as day.

But him?

Nowhere.

Ghost mode.

"The police think Raynaldo Lopez is the killer," she added. "He wasn’t at the scene when he was supposed to be."

I leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing at the data.

Yeah...

That’s exactly why he’s too obvious.

And that’s the problem.

Nothing about this case felt right. Every piece of evidence laid out in front of us looked clean—too clean. Like someone had taken the time to arrange it neatly, gift-wrapped it, and left it for the police to find.

Which means...

We missed something.

I exhaled slowly, tapping my fingers against the armrest, eyes scanning the screens again—the timestamps, the movement logs, the camera glitches.

"Something’s off," I muttered.

Because in my world?

Perfect evidence doesn’t exist.

Only planted ones do.

–Sophia–

I stood at the viewing podium above, staring down as they operated on my husband. The sterile lights burned my eyes, too bright, too unforgiving. My heart clenched painfully in my chest, each beat tight and uneven, until I could barely breathe.

I sank into the chair and turned my face away.

I just need to make sure she’s safe...

And Dr. White has been nothing but kind to me—comforting me every single day.

"Sophia."

I turned at the sound of my name. Commander White—Dr. White’s father—stood behind me.

"You’re here, Dmitri."

Relief broke through me as I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. He patted my back gently, steady and grounding.

"Yes. Your aunt sent me, since Francis couldn’t be here."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"We should head out," he said softly.

"No—I..." My voice trembled. "I need to wait for my husband."

"The operation will take more than three hours." His hand returned to my back, warm and reassuring. "Let’s take a break. Your aunt sent a thermos with a meal for you."

The flight here would have taken four to five hours. Less, if Dmitri used a private jet.

My gaze drifted back to the operating room below—to my husband... and the clone lying beside him.

The clone looked alive.

Its chest rose and fell. Its heart was beating.

A shiver ran through me.

I followed Dmitri quietly. He carried a thermal bag, guiding me upstairs, away from the cold glass and the suffocating sight. We reached a small lounge near the staff quarters.

The room was warmer. Softer.

He set the food down, opening the containers. The aroma filled the air instantly—rich, savory, familiar.

Wonton soup.

It looked so delicious, steam curling gently upward. Aunt Ines really knows what I like.

There was more—carefully prepared dishes, all still warm, as if they had just been cooked.

"You need to eat," he muttered. "And I need to see you eat."

I nodded weakly.

My hands trembled as I lifted the spoon. I took a sip of the wonton soup, the warmth spreading through my chest—

And suddenly, tears spilled over.

They rolled silently down my cheeks, blurring everything.

Dmitri handed me a handkerchief without a word. I took it, wiping my face as my breathing faltered.

My heart softened.

My nerves, slowly... began to calm.

"You need to stop stressing yourself, Sophia," he said gently. "It’s not good for the baby."

I nodded, still crying, unable to stop.

"I’ll stay with you here until Kai recovers," he added. "Slowly... step by step."

"Th-thank you..."

My voice cracked as the words left my lips.

–Damon–

Someone is fucking lying straight to my face.

And yes—I’m currently at the Blackwell Residence, coordinating with my men to clean up the mess. The nurse is already in the morgue. We’ve spoken to her family, settled things—generously. Not that money brings anyone back.

But it keeps people quiet.

We have lawyers. We have PR. We have control.

"What else do we have?"

Jane approached me, already slipping into place beside me like she always does when things get messy. She’ll help fix this—she always does—though Logan has complained more than enough that she should be with him instead.

He’s unreasonable. Clingy. Annoying.

We all need Jane.

She’s practically my son’s third mother.

The second being Laura.

"It seems Raynold really did leave with everything," Lindon, our Head of Security, reported, handing over the statements. "Even drained his cards."

I scanned the data, my jaw tightening.

Livana probably already knows this.

They tracked the withdrawal—first lead we got. But a man like Raynold? He doesn’t walk up to an ATM like some desperate civilian. Not unless he wants to be seen.

Or unless it isn’t him.

Someone looked like him. Close enough. But details don’t lie.

I pressed my earpiece.

"Ghost, did you check all the footage from the machine?" I muttered.

Lore’s voice came through the line, steady, detached.

"Yeah. Same guy—but not our main man. Two possibilities. Either he sent someone... or he’s already dead."

Jane and I exchanged a look.

Cold. Immediate understanding.

"We search for Raynold," I said, handing the data off to Lindon. I dispatched everything to the Shadows—the ones who know how to dig graves open, whether they’re literal or not.

They’ll find where Robert is buried.

Or where they took him.

"Jane," I added, glancing at her. "You want field work?"

"Yeah, sure." She grinned. "It’s been a while."

"Then tell your husband. I don’t want him spamming my phone."

She laughed, shaking her head.

"You men are clingy and dramatic. Must be in the bloodline."

"We are not in the same bloodline."

She only shrugged, amused.

"I’m heading home. You take charge." I handed her the tablet connected to the Shadows. "Lindon, with me. We sweep the house again."

I moved through the mansion with precision.

My eyesight may not be perfect—but my systems are.

Cameras aligned. Angles recalculated. Blind spots eliminated.

I installed more of Lore’s devices—small, unassuming. Nothing like the usual dome cameras. These were discreet. Almost primitive-looking.

Alyssa once called them "Jurassic cameras."

They see everything.

I sent the head guard to sweep the back lawn while I made my way to the nurse’s room—just across the hall from my grandparents’ bedroom in the other wing.

They have elevators now. My father had them installed when the stairs became too much.

I paused at the door.

Locked. Untouched.

Good.

I had my mother secure it earlier. No contamination. No interference.

Only truth waiting to be uncovered.

I slipped on my gloves and stepped inside.

The air was stale. Quiet.

Too quiet.

I moved to the drawers, opening them one by one, methodical, precise—

"Search the bed."

Livana’s voice cut in.

Calm. Certain.

I shifted immediately.

Pulled back the covers. Checked the seams. The mattress—

Then I stopped.

Something inside the pillowcase.

Subtle. Missable.

But not to me.

I slid my hand in and pulled it out—a small notebook, its shape warped from being hidden too long. I held it up to the camera, then flipped it open.

A photograph.

Polaroid.

Her.

And him.

Raynold.

Too close. Too intimate.

They weren’t just acquainted.

They were in love.

I turned it over.

Always, missing you.

-Love, Ray

My grip tightened slightly.

"Now I really need to read this journal like it’s a romance novel," I muttered, voice low.

"You got it right," Livana replied. "Search further. Then come home."

I closed the notebook slowly.

Our first real clue.

Our first real crack in the lie.

And someone—

is going to bleed for it.