Chapter 151: Another Peaceful Morning!

Torin Pov

The next morning, the bright sun was pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, illuminating the spacious, marble-tiled kitchen.

I walked out of my bedroom with my phone pressed tightly against my ear, listening to my assistant talk about how we are going to speed up the whale project. I was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and dark trousers, my tie still hanging loosely around my collar.

"...and if the northern logistics line stays stable, we should start building by Friday," my assistant’s voice crackled through the speaker.

"Have the builders at least arrived on site," I muttered into the receiver, stepping into the kitchen area.

The kitchen was already full of chaos. The rest of my pack was scattered around the island, eating breakfast and preparing for the day. Walter was standing near the coffee maker, dressed in a sharp designer jacket, talking with Oril, who was pulling on a dark blazer near the sink.

"I’m telling you, the lighting at the studio is going to be terrible if we don’t get there by eight," Walter was saying, running a hand through his styled hair. "Hurry up babe. This is my first public appearance after everything. I cannot look messy, I already know the internet will drag me to filth, I cannot give them more source material."

"I have a job interview that I’m going to," Oril replied calmly, now adjusting his collar in the reflection of the microwave door. "You can wait two minutes, Walts.

Over by the island, Kei was sitting on a high stool, leaning over his plate of eggs while talking to Augi, who was frantically scrolling through his phone.

"I’m just saying, those kids have no defensive strategy," Kei said, shaking his head as he chewed. "I need to go teach my neighborhood kids how to play basketball today or they’re going to get wiped out in the local league."

"Right, right," Augi muttered distractedly, not looking up from his screen. "You are not listening, What are you even doing!" Kei huffed.

"Sorry man, my friend’s house literally got burned down to the foundation, by his ex. So he wants me to help him pick out a house or apartment so we are meeting a realtor this afternoon."

I rubbed my temples, stepping over to the fridge and pulling it open. It was practically barren, a carton of expired milk, half a jar of mustard, and three cans of energy drinks.

This is absurd. I closed the fridge door with a sharp snap. I’m always a little bit late getting back from the office because I’m running this entire company, and these guys can’t even keep basic food in the house.

"Augi," I said loudly, cutting through the noise of their overlapping conversations. Augi finally looked up from his phone. "What?"

"Since you’re going shopping today," I said, pointing a finger at him, "please buy some groceries. This takeout thing is insane. We’re living like college students in a penthouse."

Augi blinked at me, looking offended. "I’m going house shopping, Torin! Not shopping-shopping!"

I looked at him flatly, entirely unimpressed. "Come on, dude. It’s the same thing. Just grab some bread and meat on your way back."

Before he could argue, I turned around and headed out the front door. I would have asked Oril cause he’s the most trustworthy one here other than Oracle but after the shit that’s happened between us, I’m sure he’ll poison my portion of the food.

Slipping my suit jacket onto my shoulders while keeping the phone pressed to my ear.z

"No, keep the offshore accounts untouched," I said back into the receiver as I pressed the button for the private elevator.

Where is Lorali? I’ve seen everyone in the kitchen today, Walter, Kei, Augi, Oril, but I haven’t seen Lorali and Oracle once this morning. I hope everything’s fine.

She was definitely still in the house. And I knew Oracle was here too, I smelt them when I was still in the house. satisfied that she hadn’t snuck out in the middle of the night, I stepped into the descending elevator car.

The display ticked down until the doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the quiet, dimly lit underground parking garage. I walked down the concrete ramp, my shoes clicking against the floor, still talking into my phone. "Send the revised contract to my desk by noon. I’ll review it before the meeting."

I pulled my key fob from my pocket, approaching my sleek, custom silver Solls-Soyce parked in my designated bay. I raised the fob and pressed the unlock button.

BEEP-BEEP.

The headlights flashed once, the side mirrors unfolding smoothly. Just as the locks disengaged, a faint, metallic click echoed through the quiet garage.

I didn’t focus on it. My mind was still half-engrossed in stock margins and the whales project. But as I was about to walk to the driver’s side door handle, I noticed my right shoelace had come completely undone, trailing across the dusty floor.

I paused. I stopped a good distance away from the car, setting my briefcase on the floor, and bent down on one knee to tie the lace.

BOOM!

A deafening, blinding wall of orange fire and roaring pressure erupted from beneath the hood of the car. The shockwave slammed into my chest, tossing me backward onto the concrete floor like a ragdoll.

Glass shattered into millions of flying sparks, raining down around me as a thick, black plume of smoke billowed toward the concrete ceiling. The alarm systems of every car in the garage immediately started blaring in a chaotic, deafening chorus.

I sat there on the cold, hard ground, my hands shaking violently, my ears ringing so loudly I couldn’t hear my phone skittering across the floor.

My eyes were wide, fixed on the engulfed, twisted metal of my expensive vehicle.

What... what on earth just happened?! A dizzying wave of intense, sickening déjà vu washed over me.

My chest heaved. It was the exact same sound. The exact same smell of burning rubber and chemical fire from the night my mother’s sedan had exploded, the memory flashed in my head. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

And then, right on cue, the light, rhythmic sound of footsteps echoed over the blaring car alarms.

I forced my head up, wiping a streak of sweat from my forehead.

Lorali was walking casually down the parking ramp. She was wearing sleek black sports gear, a heavy black duffel bag slung effortlessly over her shoulder, her hair tied up in a neat ponytail. Walking right behind her, carrying himself with a relaxed, watchful posture, was Oracle.

Lorali stopped a few feet away from the burning wreck, resting a hand on her hip. She looked down at me sitting on the floor, her face twisting into a picture of absolute, sickeningly fake concern.

"Oh my gosh, Torin!" Lorali gasped, her voice dripping with artificial, sugary sweet sympathy. "Are you okay?! That’s such a pity! Something terrible could have happened to you!"

She pressed a hand to her chest, sighing dramatically as the orange fire reflected in her dark, mischievous eyes.

"It’s good to see you’re all right, though," she added, offering me a tight, bright little smile that didn’t reach her eyes at all.

Without waiting for me to speak, she turned on her heel, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. "Anyways... Oracle, let’s go. We’re going to be late."

She strutted toward a sleek dark sedan parked further down the garage line, completely unbothered by the towering inferno behind her.

Oracle lingered for a fraction of a second. He looked down at me, leaning in slightly as he passed, his lips moving into a quiet whisper that I barely caught over the sirens.

"I warned you," Oracle muttered, before turning and following her.

I sat there on the concrete, watching her open the passenger door and slide inside without looking back once.

Oh, this girl is crazy, I thought, a sudden, breathless laugh bubbling up in my throat despite the shock rattling my limbs. This girl is truly, utterly insane.

I slowly pulled myself up from the floor, dusting off the knees of my suit trousers as the overhead sprinklers finally activated, raining cold water down over the burning car.

But it’s okay, I told myself, staring at the taillights of her car as it backed out of the bay. This is truly, completely okay. I grew up with a psychopath mother who could kill if Cleovera was involved. None of this phases me.

I took a deep breath, wiping the water from my face, a dark, dangerous smile slowly spreading across my lips as I watched her in the car go toward the exit ramp.

"Lorali..." I whispered into the smoke, my eyes burning with a crazy, unyielding fire of my own. "I can handle you, my sugarplum."