Chapter 17 - The Lesson of the Dark
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They never truly understood. They thought the dark was a disadvantage.
Blindness had not hindered me; it had fundamentally rewired me. It had taught me something that sighted predators almost always forget when they rely solely on their eyes.
When you strip away the visual noise of the world—the flashy suits, the intimidating glares, the fake smiles, and the superficial posturing—you are left with only the absolute truth of a person. You hear the lie in their throat before it ever leaves their lips. You feel the frantic, heavy footfalls of their greed long before they ever reach your door.
Adrian thought I couldn't see the trap he was building around me. He assumed that because I couldn't watch him assemble the pieces, I was completely ignorant of the game.
He never realized that you do not need to see a trap close to know it’s there. Sometimes, if you are quiet enough, and patient enough, you only need to hear the mechanical click of the spring being set.
I had heard his click years ago. And I had spent every day since building a bigger, deadlier trap right outside of his.
The garden was peaceful. My parents were safe. My company was untouchable. I took a deep breath of the ocean air, feeling a profound sense of closure wash over my soul.
Vance walked out onto the patio, his heavy boots crunching softly on the gravel path.
“Boss,” he said quietly, his voice lacking its usual relaxed, off-duty tone.
May you like
I turned my head slightly. “What is it, Vance?”
“The mail courier just dropped off a specialized delivery at the front gate. Bypassed the corporate office completely. Addressed directly to you, marked personal and highly confidential.”
