QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)-Chapter 157: New dynasty

Chapter 157 – Valentino Jr. POV

I pour myself a glass of champagne as the screen lights up with fire and panic.

The news anchor’s voice trembles as she describes it—a suspected terrorist attack on the Castellano estate... authorities are urging citizens to avoid the area... no official death toll yet...

I take a sip.

Ha.

Ha ha ha.

The taste is sweet. Not just the champagne—the victory.

I let it rest on my tongue, slow and indulgent. Like honey. Like revenge. Like everything I was told I’d never have.

It was hard getting them all in the same room. Harder still to hurt them where it mattered.

But I knew.

It took months.

Getting them all in one room wasn’t easy. They never trusted each other enough. But pain? Pain makes people cooperate. You hit them where it hurts—hard enough, deep enough—and suddenly, even sworn enemies will sit at the same table.

Luciano’s cargo routes were the easiest to sabotage. He’s sloppy when he’s angry, arrogant when he’s threatened. A few redirected shipments, some "missing" crates, a dead accountant—it was enough to make him paranoid.

Raffaele... he was more careful. His girls were his pride. I had to be gentle there. Start rumors, move money, bribe someone close enough to betray him at the right time. Three brothels gone. And a message scorched into their walls.

But Daphne?

She was a fortress.

Getting into her supply line was hell. No cracks. No weak links. Everyone paid well, protected well, loyal to a fault. So I made new cracks. Hired new people. Fed false confidence

And when it all finally aligned?

They walked into the meeting like sheep to the slaughter.

I came up with some dumb excuse. "Urgent business. Personal matter. Regretfully can’t attend."

And they didn’t question it.

Because none of them ever really saw me.

Not as a threat.

Not as a rival.

Not as someone worthy of the Castellano name.

None of them even blinked.

But tonight?

I am the only one left standing.

I sip the champagne again, slower this time. The screen shows flames devouring marble. Shattered glass. Emergency crews held at bay.

I sip again, watching the fire bloom on screen. Watching chaos reign.

I wanted their deaths to be painful. Long. I fantasized about it. Slitting Daphne’s throat myself. Watching Raffaele beg. Seeing Luciano’s pride break before his spine did.

But this?

This will do.

A single blow. Clean. Absolute. Glorious.

With the heirs gone, the empire will eat itself. The businesses will collapse. The clients will scatter.

And when the vultures circle looking for someone to lead?

I’ll already be seated at the head of the table.

I’ll be all that’s left.

The only player in the game.

And the kingdom will fall into my hands—because I was the only one smart enough to destroy it first.

I pour myself another drink.

The champagne glugs smoothly into the crystal glass, catching the light from the fire on the screen. Warm. Flickering. Apocalyptic.

I snicker to myself.

Can’t help it.

They really didn’t see it coming.

Not one of them.

They all clung to the same tired belief—that the estate was sacred. A monument. A symbol of prestige and glory. The house Castellano built brick by bloodied brick, passed down like some holy relic.

Untouchable.

To them, the estate was legacy. Proof they’d won the game their fathers started.

And that’s exactly why I chose it.

I believe in evolution. Not tradition.

Sometimes, to build a kingdom...

You have to wipe the slate clean.

I sip from my glass as the news replay loops—ash rising like smoke signals, the old tower collapsed in half, glass and gold reduced to twisted steel.

I watch the screen like it’s a film I directed. Every flame, every fallen column, a scene I storyboarded with care. Precision.

This is the death of a dynasty.

And I’ll be the one to birth the next.

I lean back in my chair, letting the chaos flicker across my smug reflection in the glass.

The kingdom was rotten at its core.

I just gave it the funeral it deserved.

***

Estela POV

"Please let me in!" I scream, voice raw, throat burning.

My fists pound against the barricade, the metal gate rattling beneath my hands. Smoke billows into the sky ahead, thick and dark and wrong. The estate—what’s left of it—is just beyond the cordoned-off zone, reduced to rubble and ruin and flickering flames.

They won’t let me through.

Two security officers—mercs, not cops—hold me back by the arms. I twist, kick, claw at them. I don’t care who they work for.

I need to get in.

I need to see for myself.

"She was inside!" I shout, desperate, wild.

They don’t answer. They’re listening to their earpieces, giving each other tight, subtle looks like I’m just another hysterical civilian.

But I know what they’re thinking.

They think there’s nothing left to find.

Nothing worth saving.

I scream again, trying to push forward.

My heel snaps.

I don’t stop.

I won’t stop.

It can’t be.

No way.

No fucking way.

I shove against the guards, again and again, fueled by panic and fury and the sound of my heart breaking with every second that passes.

They hold tight, but I’m wilder now—feral. My elbows swing, my shoulder rams, and I scream until my throat burns raw.

"Let me GO!"

The sky above the estate is choked with smoke, black and heavy, coiling like ink in water. The heat in the air is suffocating. My skin feels too tight. My lungs too small.

Somewhere in there—beneath the debris, the fire, the ash—

She’s in there.

"DAPHNE!"

The name leaves me like a weapon, like a curse, like a plea to the gods I stopped believing in a long time ago.

Let her be alive.

Let her be whole.

Let me see her one more time, even if I have to walk through hell to get to her.

The guard on the left stumbles slightly. I twist, almost free—

Then a hand grabs my wrist.

Not rough.

Not hostile.

Familiar.

And when I spin around, hair sticking to my face, mouth open—

I see her.

Bloodied. Bruised. Covered in ash. Her jacket torn, one eye swollen. Limping. Alive.

Alive.