Chapter 100: The Name
The news broke before noon.
It spread through the city like wildfire, flashing across every television screen, every news outlet, every whispered conversation in high society circles.
"Rachel Hoffman, wife of billionaire Leon Hoffman, found dead in Brooklyn townhouse."
The headline scrolled across the bottom of the screen in bold, unforgiving letters.
Diane felt frozen in the living room, her coffee grew cold in her hands as she watched the live coverage.
A sea of reporters gathered outside Hoffman Industries, their voices overlapped as they fought to get a statement from Leon.
They had no idea what really happened.
Not yet.
But soon, the speculations would turn into accusations.
The media would dig, and people would start asking questions.
And Diane knew exactly who they would blame.
"Turn it off," Riot muttered, grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Diane set her coffee down with shaky fingers. "I should call my father."
Riot scoffed. "You think he doesn’t already know?"
She exhaled heavily, rubbing her temples. Of course, he knew. He always knew before the media did.
But still...
She needed to hear his voice.
She reached for her phone and dialed.
It rang twice before Leon picked up. His voice was strained. "Diane."
Her throat tightened. "Dad—"
"I don’t have time for condolences," he cut in, his tone sharp. "Tell me the truth. How bad is it?"
Diane swallowed. "The police have Adrian. They know Rachel took Arthur, but they don’t know everything else yet."
"Yet," Leon echoed bitterly. There was a pause, then, "Is Arthur safe?"
Diane’s gaze flew to the couch, where Arthur was curled up under a blanket, his eyes glued to his sketchbook.
"Yes," she whispered. "But he’s not okay."
Leon inhaled. "I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve handled her before it got this far."
Diane’s chest ached at the quiet guilt in his voice. "She made her choices, Dad."
Leon didn’t respond right away. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. "This isn’t over, Diane. You understand that, don’t you?"
Her grip tightened on the phone. "I know."
The media storm was coming. The scandal. The accusations.
And there was nothing they could do to stop it.
Two hours later.
Diane had just stepped into the kitchen when a knock on the door made her tense.
Riot was already on his feet, gun half-drawn. "Expecting company?"
Diane frowned, shaking her head.
The knock came again.
Firm. Impatient.
Riot moved first, opening the door slightly—then letting out an irritated sigh.
"Of course it’s you," he muttered, stepping aside.
"Gabriel!"
Diane’s breath caught.
He looked... exhausted.
His suit was slightly wrinkled, his tie loosened, the sharp edges of his usual composure dulled by something else.
His green eyes locked onto hers immediately.
Diane straightened. "Where have you been?"
Gabriel stepped inside, brushing past Riot. "The hospital."
Riot shut the door behind him. "Ah, yes. The great Dr. Frost had to go make sure his empire wasn’t burning."
Gabriel shot him a cold look. "My empire is fine."
Diane crossed her arms. "You could’ve called."
Gabriel exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. "I needed to handle things first."
Diane’s jaw clenched. "Handle things? Gabriel, Rachel’s dead. The entire city is talking about it. And Arthur—" She hesitated, lowering her voice. "He woke up crying. He won’t talk. He barely moves. And you just disappeared?"
Something flickered across Gabriel’s face—guilt, maybe. But it was gone just as quickly.
"I didn’t disappear," he said quietly. "I made sure everything was secure. The police, the media, the hospital records—"
"You’re protecting yourself," Diane snapped.
Gabriel’s expression darkened. "I’m protecting us."
Diane let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Us? Gabriel, do you even hear yourself?"
His jaw tightened. "I did what had to be done. If I had stayed, I would’ve been a liability."
Diane’s anger burned hotter. "To who? To me? To Arthur?"
Gabriel took a step closer, his presence was a bit overwhelming. "To everyone."
Riot let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Okay, I love a good lovers’ quarrel, but maybe we should be focusing on the fact that Adrian is still running his mouth in police custody?"
Diane let out a long ans deep sigh, forcing herself to calm down.
She turned back to Gabriel. "He’s saying things, Gabriel. About you. About your hospitals."
Gabriel’s nose sharpened a little. "Let him talk."
Diane frowned. "You’re not worried?"
Gabriel tilted his head slightly, his smirk returned as if nothing, so cold, quite calculated.
"Adrian has nothing. No power. No proof. Just a mouth that won’t stop running."
Riot arched a brow. "And if someone actually starts digging?"
Gabriel’s smirk didn’t vanish. "Then they’ll find exactly what I want them to find."
Diane stared at him. "What does that mean?"
Gabriel’s voice dropped lower. "It means I’m always three steps ahead, Diane. And I don’t lose."
Something about the way he said it sent a chill down her spine.
Diane folded her arms. "And what about Arthur? He’s the only thing that matters right now."
"I know," he said quietly.
For a moment, the tension between them eased. Just a fraction.
Then a loud buzz from Diane’s phone shattered the moment.
She grabbed it off the counter, frowning at the unknown number flashing across the screen.
Riot peered over her shoulder. "Another secret admirer?"
Diane hesitated, then answered.
A distorted voice came through the speaker.
"Did you think this was over?"
Her blood ran cold.
Gabriel stepped closer, his entire body tenses. "Who is this?"
A low chuckle.
"You buried one problem, Diane. But you forgot something."
Diane’s grip on the phone tightened. "And what’s that?"
The voice turned sharp.
"Dead things don’t always stay buried."
The line went dead.
Silence.
Then Riot muttered, "Well, that’s not ominous at all."
Diane slowly lowered the phone, her pulse hammered.
"Someone’s making a move."
Diane turned to him, her stomach twisted, eyes felt filtered with tears.
"We need to find out who."