Chapter 8: Chapter 8 His nemesis.
Thrown violently, he began to descend, but he was lucky—when falling, he managed to grab an iron rod that stuck out from the edge of the well’s wall. The sharp metal tore through his palm down to his vein, yet he couldn’t let go.
And right there, he screamed.
"Okay, I am sorry! Tell your boss I will do whatever he wants—please, let me go!" Daniel begged for his life.
His hands shook as they clutched desperately over the dangling iron, which kept digging deep into his flesh. Which was pure torture.
The guards watched him beg and grinned evilly, his plight giving them deep joy and satisfaction.
And along the barricade of the lower floor in the skyscraper, Adrian watched the scene unfold. Looking deep into the well, he could make out Daniel struggling not to fall into the pit of tigers. But as cold-hearted as he was, he didn’t comment. He only grinned like a devil, his full attention fixed on the struggling boy.
"Call your damn boss! I am going to die here! Or does he want the money he spent on me to go to waste?" Daniel tried using pity card to gain the stone-hearted men’s attention. But how foolish he realized he was.
Stones are called stones for a reason, and these ones weren’t any different from the rest.
"Our boss hasn’t given us any instructions, so you’re staying there for a while," one of the bulky men chimed in.
After enjoying the spectacle of his misery, the men began to depart one by one, grinning at Daniel’s frozen expression.
"Don’t you dare leave me here! Come on!" Daniel still begged, eyes filled with dread for his impending doom. But nothing happened, no help came, and the iron kept dangling dangerously.
His hands slowly slipped, blood dripping out in large amounts. He squirmed in terror, his face contorted, and as his grip weakened, his eyes closed—his body slipping in slow motion. But just then, a shadow appeared and gripped his hand.
Daniel’s eyes shot open and moved upward, landing on the figure above. And as expected, it was his nemesis—the same psychopathic demon solely responsible for his misery.
Acting as if he wasn’t the one who had sentenced him to this fate, Adrian pulled him up silently, deliberately avoiding deep eye contact. Then, when Daniel landed on the floor, gasping, Adrian stood cold and unreadable.
Daniel’s hands were sore and raw, jagged marks cutting deep into his flesh, exposing red skin. He recoiled in pain, but that didn’t shake the stone-hearted man before him.
Adrian squatted before him and tapped his head.
"You’re only lucky I came just in time. If not, the spirits of the other side would have claimed your soul," Adrian stated emotionlessly.
Daniel was too stunned to speak. Things were spiraling far beyond his control, and he couldn’t even pinpoint how it had all started.
It’s fine, he told himself. He would treat himself, stay away, and do well to avoid Adrian and everyone in the Mafia gang. He had seen the deathly looks they threw at him, and he wasn’t dying for anyone’s sins.
Then, turning his back on Daniel, Adrian uttered the last chilling words:
"Defy me one last time, boy, and I promise you—I will destroy you. Not just physically, but emotionally and psychologically." His words rang with ultimate finality before he walked into the penthouse.
Left alone in his misery, Daniel shuddered under the drum of pain pounding through his hands. Yet he still forced himself to stand. The deserted surroundings weighed heavy on him, and the low growls from the well made him wonder what would have happened if he had fallen to the beasts below.
Finally managing to get up, he staggered toward the entrance of the penthouse, only to collapse before reaching the door. His bloody hands landed on a metal bar, and the jagged edge dug deeper into his wound, forcing a growl of agony from him.
At that moment, a woman was stepping out of her car, about to enter the elevator leading to the penthouse. She froze at the sight of the shaking figure on the floor.
The dark-haired girl moved with such grace and beauty, though her face was filled with sadness at the young man’s state. Rushing forward, she bent over him.
"Young man, please, just stay still—you’re hurting yourself!" The woman was dismayed at the pool of blood spreading from his battered hands.
"No, it’s okay, I can manage," Daniel tried to keep her at bay. Right now, he wanted to be on his own and not drag anyone else into his misfortune. But people just couldn’t help sticking their noses into his business.
"Don’t say that." The woman’s voice shook as her eyes fixed on the blood still flowing. "With me here, you’re safe. Guards! Guards!" she screamed.
At once, the door by the corner of the elevator swung wide open, and six men rushed in.
The lady pointed straight at Daniel.
"Take him to the family clinic house. I want all his meds and treatment placed on my tab—go, now! Take him this instant!" Her urgent tone made the guards exchange looks, wondering who this young man was.
But one of them recognized him immediately.
"That’s the boss’s whore," a thin man sneered, his words laced with malice.
The insult made the lady pause. The boss—her brother. Were they serious?
"I won’t tolerate this slander! I command you to take him to the clinic, or I’ll fire you all, and nothing will change!" she barked with unwavering seriousness.
Daniel was shocked by her reaction. Was she somehow related to the demon of a man he was entangled with?
Worse—could they be married? Oh no.
"I don’t think this is the best option. I don’t want any inconveniences," Daniel said, making it absolutely clear.
"No one will question you, because I am Gianna Valez—Adrian’s one and only sister."
Her words sent a chill straight down his spine. His sister. Another reason he needed to run.
Summoning all his strength, Daniel forced himself onto his legs, desperate to escape the trap closing around him. But he lost balance and fell miserably onto the floor, his skull cracking against the marble.
"Daniel!" Gianna screamed immediately, and the men rushed to carry him. They lifted his half-dead body carefully, thanks to her orders. And since the clinic wasn’t far, Daniel was taken in quickly.
*****
Meanwhile, inside the enormous mansion, one of the rooms—large enough to contain an entire population—darkened with tension as Adrian entered, Jake trailing behind as usual.
Jake’s nose was bandaged to the brink, giving him a ridiculous look. But Adrian, cold as ever, saw him only as a mannequin—used and disposable at his will.
Inside the private parlor, reserved strictly for family matters, Don Ricardo sat at the center, radiating power and authority. Beside him was the new Donna—Rosalie—the woman who had replaced Adrian’s real mother.
Rosalie was Gianna and Matteo’s real mother, Adrian’s step-siblings’ protector, and to him, they might as well have been dead.
"Welcome back, son. Finally," Rosalie greeted, rising on her impossibly tall heels, her sleek red dress swaying as she moved in to hug him.
But as she approached, Adrian shoved her harshly, his hand sending her sprawling back. The violent push shattered her fake facade, and her face twisted in fury.
Ricardo’s eyes filled with displeasure. He despised Adrian’s disrespectful display.
"Adrian, son, is this what you’ve learned now?" Ricardo’s voice carried weight, his gaze drilling deep into his son.
Adrian didn’t flinch. His cold stare made it clear—if they didn’t know his mind by now, they were all worthless. Especially his womanizing father, whom he despised more than anyone for replacing his mother so quickly.
"I came here to tell you all about my new discovery in the outside world," Adrian dropped the bomb, going straight to the point. No need to salvage a situation where nothing good existed.
"Father is speaking to you. And why did you push Mother like that?" Matteo, ever the useless fool, chimed in.
Adrian scowled like a mad beast.
"When men are talking, it’s rude for children to interrupt—especially one that hasn’t even learned to walk yet," Adrian fired mercilessly, hitting the spot.
Rosalie wisely returned to her seat. She didn’t want to be slapped—she knew the fire in Adrian’s eyes, and she knew too well what he was capable of.
"Say what you want, but it’s I who still has a mother." Matteo spat back.
The room chilled instantly.
Adrian’s eyes turned blood-red, veins bulging as his teeth clenched.
Rosalie panicked. She knew that rage—Adrian was infamous for it. Her son was about to die.
"Please, Ricardo, do something—" Before she could finish, Adrian lunged.
In a flash, a dagger flew toward Matteo, slicing through his fingers as easily as if they were vegetables.
Matteo’s horrifying scream pierced the air. Rosalie and Ricardo froze in horror, staring at the son who was less a man and more a demon.
And Ricardo, for the first time, regretted ever fathering him. Adrian Valez wasn’t just evil—he was far worse than Ricardo had ever been in his youth.