Chapter 87: Mistake.
Leonard.
Still frustrated, I shifted my attention to the next file, forcing myself to focus despite the lingering anger still burning in my chest.
Michael had always been a thorn in my side.
A constant irritation I could never fully ignore.
And truthfully, I had long waited for the right moment to deal with him permanently. But I couldn’t afford to act recklessly. Whatever I did had to be calculated, precise, and clean—something that wouldn’t make me look childish or impulsive in the eyes of others.
I needed leverage.
Something solid enough to justify whatever action I eventually took.
The file finally opened on my screen, and just as I prepared to begin scrolling through its contents, the door to my office suddenly swung open.
My eyes lifted sharply.
Bernard walked in.
My expression immediately darkened.
"What do you want now?" I asked irritably, already annoyed by his sudden appearance.
Without thinking further, I quickly turned off my phone screen and placed it down, as though hiding what I was working on from him.
Bernard didn’t seem bothered by my tone.
He walked in calmly, as if he belonged there, and stopped a few steps away from my desk.
"I will go straight to the point, Leonard," he said evenly. "Only you know what we discussed six years ago."
I raised a brow in clear annoyance.
That again.
"I still do not understand why you want that," I responded coldly, leaning back slightly as I studied him more carefully. My irritation was growing by the second.
Bernard tilted his head slightly.
"Careful with the way you classify it," he said, taking his time as he lowered himself into a seat without waiting for permission. "One might think you’re referring to an object instead of a person."
The words struck a nerve immediately.
My jaw tightened.
For a brief moment, I felt an urge rise inside me—to walk over and wipe that calm expression off his face. The way he spoke, the way he sat so comfortably as if this conversation meant nothing, irritated me more than I wanted to admit.
My body even stirred with the impulse to react physically, to let my frustration speak through action.
But I restrained myself.
Barely.
"Why didn’t you find her yourself six years ago when she vanished?" I asked sharply, my voice edged with anger. "Why wait until I finally found her?"
I leaned forward slightly, my gaze hardening.
"Now listen to me, Bernard," I continued firmly. "Whether it was six years ago or now, I will not give Theresa to you."
A brief pause followed as I took a slow, controlled breath, trying to keep my temper in check.
Whatever control I still had, I forced it into my next words.
"Whatever you need her for," I added coldly, "you can find someone else."
The finality in my tone made the room feel heavier, as silence settled between us for a moment too long.
"Do your brothers know about this?" he asked, suddenly breaking into laughter that sounded almost unhinged, as though the entire situation was amusing to him and not something dangerous or serious.
His tone carried a disturbing edge, like a man who was already planning something far beyond what he was saying out loud.
I let out a short laugh in return, though mine was controlled and sharp rather than unstable.
"I am not a fool, Bernard," I said calmly, a faint smile appearing on my lips. "Why else do you think Lurgard was so furious that he nearly killed you the other day?"
As I spoke, I watched his reaction closely, not missing the subtle shift in his expression.
For a brief moment, Bernard’s face darkened completely. The amusement vanished instantly, replaced with something more controlled and colder.
I could see him trying to regain his composure, forcing himself back into that unsettling calm he always tried to maintain.
But I could clearly tell I had struck a nerve deep enough for him to react differently this time.
"If you won’t give her to me, then I will get her myself," he said suddenly, his tone firm, unwavering, and far more serious than before.
He tilted his head slightly afterward, studying me as though he was already calculating outcomes in his mind. Then a slow, mocking smile formed on his lips, the kind that carried more arrogance than humor.
"Oh...I i heard she lost her memories," he added casually, as if the information amused him greatly. "Doesn’t that make everything easier?"
A low laugh escaped him again, deeper this time, lingering in the air with unsettling confidence.
And that laugh.
It was the final trigger.
In that instant, something inside me snapped and this around, I actually listened to Le and that inner urge I had been suppressing for too long.
I moved forward quickly and threw a hard punch straight across his face.
The impact echoed sharply in the room.
"Bastard!" I shouted angrily. "Don’t you ever try to harm Theresa... or you won’t escape me."
My chest rose and fell heavily as rage coursed through me.
Ever since Bernard’s father died, his behavior had changed drastically. At first, I had dismissed it as grief—something understandable, something temporary. But now, standing here watching him, listening to him, it was becoming painfully clear that this was no longer grief.
It was something far worse.
Pure madness.
"Watch me," Bernard said confidently, completely unfazed despite the punch.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he straightened his shirt, adjusted himself calmly, and walked out of my office without another word.
The door closed behind him.
I stood there for a moment, breathing heavily as silence filled the room again.
Then I slowly turned my gaze toward the door.
"You made a mistake telling me your plans, Bernard," I said quietly, my voice low and dangerous. "I won’t let you hurt Theresa."
Without wasting any more time, I returned to my desk, picked up my phone, and quickly dialed a number.
It rang once.
Then connected immediately.
"I have a patient for you," I said coldly.
