Chapter 523: Chapter 523

Meanwhile, deep within the estate’s basement...

Sinclair sat motionless on the sofa, half bathed in light and half shrouded in shadow, idly toying with the obsidian ring on his finger.

His strikingly handsome face was partially obscured, revealing only the faint upward curve of his thin lips, his true expression unreadable.

Before him knelt several gagged men of Eastern European descent.

A closer look revealed sharp nails embedded beneath their knees, blood oozing from the wounds and staining the floor beneath them.

Their eyes were stretched wide with agony, faces so bloodied their features were unrecognizable, contorted in unbearable pain.

They writhed weakly, only to have mercenaries press booted feet onto their legs, immobilizing them completely.

Those who’d lost consciousness were abruptly revived by buckets of ice water laced with special stimulants.

Behind them, a burly, bronze-skinned man bound to a chair watched with ashen-faced terror, his pupils constricted in abject fear.

Clearly, this brutal spectacle had been staged specifically for his benefit.

His gagged lips trembled as he stared imploringly at Sinclair, desperate to speak.

Noticing this, Sinclair’s dark eyes glimmered with faint amusement, deep and fathomless as a frozen abyss.

"The show isn’t over yet," he murmured, voice dripping with quiet menace. "Why the hurry?"

Just then— "Buzzzzz—"

The phone in Ramsey’s pocket suddenly vibrated as he stood behind Sinclair.

Ramsey glanced at the screen and answered without hesitation.

"Have them wait. I’ll check with Mr. Luther first."

After muting the call, Ramsey stepped closer to Sinclair and lowered his voice.

"Mr. Luther, Nolan have sent someone."

At the mention of "Nolan," the burly, pale-faced man shuddered.

*This Luther guy has ties with the Nolan family too?*

In that instant, he realized his backers were useless.

Despair washed over him, his legs nearly giving way beneath him.

His terrified eyes locked onto Sinclair, his rough face twisted in desperate pleading.

Is he ready to talk—ready to say anything.

"Hmm." Sinclair’s handsome face remained impassive, his dark eyes still fixed on the scene before him with mild amusement.

His fingers continued to toy idly with the obsidian ring on his hand.

"Yes, sir." Ramsey nodded and withdrew.

Soon, the young man with the broken eyebrow was ushered in.

The moment he stepped inside, the overwhelming stench of blood hit him like a wall, so thick it burned his nostrils.

He faltered mid-step before forcing himself forward.

When his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the basement, a chill crept down his spine.

The man’s methods were every bit as brutal and merciless as the rumors claimed—utterly devoid of humanity.

The thought made the young man uneasy. Was his boss making the right choice by aligning with Sinclair? But doubts aside, he knew better than to act on his own.

Ramsey halted, and the young man followed suit.

"President Luther," he said, bowing slightly toward the man lounging on the sofa, his tone carefully respectful.

"I’m Karl, assistant to Mr. Nolan Junior."

After introducing himself, he continued, "Mr. Nolan has a matter he’d like to discuss with you.

Mr. Nolan requests your presence at the Nolan cooperation."

Sinclair didn’t spare Karl a glance, nor did he respond.

His dark eyes, narrowed and unreadable, remained fixed on the figures kneeling before him.

"Time’s almost up," he murmured.

The deep, magnetic voice carried a hint of regret.

Ramsey understood immediately and glanced at the group of mercenaries under his command.

Without another word, the men swiftly drew their daggers and slashed with practiced precision, cleanly piercing the throats of their targets.

Blood sprayed through the air as the bodies collapsed in unison.

What sent chills down the spine was the expression frozen on their faces—not fear, but relief.

Karl’s eyebrow twitched, a sudden coldness creeping over him.

Karl abruptly changed his mind, realizing his employer’s words couldn’t have been more accurate.

Cooperating with such people was infinitely better than making enemies of them.

Sinclair frowned in displeasure as a drop of blood splattered onto the back of his hand.

Sinclair picked up a handkerchief and meticulously wiped it away.

Only when every trace was gone did he rise from the sofa, his steps unhurried and poised as he strode toward the exit.

Ramsey didn’t move immediately, instead casting a glance at Karl.

Taking in the gruesome scene in the room, Karl quickly followed.

Ramsey gazed coldly at the man trembling in the chair, his courage clearly shattered.

"That was just the warm-up," he said icily.

"If you still refuse to confess what Harrison ordered you to do, you’ll face the consequences."

With that, he turned and strode out of the room. ---

In the living room, Sonia approached Camilla with a steaming bowl of nourishing soup, her eyes bright with anticipation.

"Madam," she said eagerly, "please try this one."

Knowing her boss was suffering from morning sickness, she had carefully selected the freshest and most soothing ingredients.

Camilla took a sip, and her eyes lit up.

"Delicious," she said sincerely, not just to be polite.

"You used pepper, ginger, Njansa and a bit of bush pepper right?

" Sonia’s dark eyes widened in surprise, a delighted smile spreading across her face.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed.

"Madam, you know how to cook this type of dish?"

No one had told her this before—she had no idea. "I know a little," Camilla didn’t deny it.

"But I’m not well-versed in dietary therapy for pregnant women.

I’ll have to rely on you from now on."

After all, it’s best to leave professional matters to the professionals.

The madam is so beautiful and gentle!

Sonia felt incredibly lucky to have such an employer. She patted her chest earnestly.

"Don’t worry, madam. I’ll take the best care of you and the baby," she declared with unwavering sincerity, as if her words were as true as the sun and moon.

Camilla looked at Sonia’s doll-like face, brimming with determination, and found it utterly adorable.

She couldn’t help but laugh.

The girls around her really were getting cuter by the day.

Just then, Sinclair walked in.

Seeing Camilla smiling so warmly at Sonia, his brows furrowed slightly.

Hearing Sinclair’s arrival, Sonia immediately straightened up.

"Madam, please enjoy your meal.

I’ll come back to clean up later," she said with a playful wink at Camilla before standing up.

After a quick greeting, Sonia hurried away.

Camilla watched her retreating figure, the smile on her lips deepening.

Sinclair settled beside Camilla, following her gaze.

"Just half a day, and you’re already this fond of her?"

Whether it was people or things, he feared she wouldn’t like them—yet equally dreaded her liking them too much. Sinclair was growing more conflicted by the day.

"She’s just a girl," Camilla replied, catching the whiff of jealousy in his tone. She shot him a playful yet exasperated glance before steering the conversation elsewhere.

"Did you get any answers?"