The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 972

When the voice changer finally crackled to life, the tone was deadpan, yet the words carried a spine-chilling cruelty.

"The explosives were calculated down to the ounce. Once detonated, nothing living within a mile radius could survive. As for the girl you're so worried about... I imagine she's been vaporized. Not even a trace of ash left."

"Why? Hearing this news... you don't seem overly thrilled."

"Are you mourning her?"

The masked man's icy gaze swept over him.

Fitch felt his heart stop, as if an invisible hand had just crushed it.

The masked man's stare was so intimidating that Fitch instinctively averted his eyes, unable to hold the eye contact.

"No, of course not, sir. Why would I? Leilani and Callahan were on the same side. She was only ever going to be an obstacle for us."

"Besides, if it weren't for her, my daughter and I wouldn't be estranged... Her dying in there solves a major problem for my family."

As Fitch spoke, he felt like he was hypnotizing himself. The more he said it, the more he believed it was the truth.

But for some inexplicable reason, even knowing that Callahan and Leilani had been eradicated, he couldn't find the immediate joy he expected.

Instead, there was a fleeting moment of emptiness—like a bowstring kept taut for too long that suddenly had no target.

The masked man shot him a dismissive look. "It better be..."

Fitch knew the man was dissatisfied with his momentary hesitation.

The masked man didn't respond. He simply turned away and walked toward the sleek, black Rolls-Royce Phantom idling by the curb like a phantom in the night.

Fitch immediately dropped his CEO persona. He jogged ahead, beating the driver to the heavy car door, and pulled it open, bowing deeply in the pouring rain.

The window glided up silently, completely sealing off the stormy weather and creating an enclave of absolute quiet.

Just a fraction of a second before the glass shut entirely, the masked man seemingly glanced out.

Fitch was still standing there in the rain, holding his respectful pose. In the hazy glow of the streetlights, he looked utterly pathetic.

Beneath the cold metal mask, unseen by anyone, the corners of the mysterious man's lips twitched upward in a faint, mocking smirk.

Only after the masked man was comfortably seated did Fitch finally slide into the car, ensuring his absolute deference was on full display.