Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 103: Saving Jorathon

Chapter 103: Saving Jorathon

Alon was still fuming when he got home. His anger was so intense that the servants greeting him barely dared to breathe, their curiosity piqued. ’Mr. Alon is usually even-tempered, so what has pushed him over the edge this time?’

In the living room, an old man with silver hair sat in a wheelchair, his eyes fixed on a report glowing on the screen before him.

"Is everything confirmed?" he asked, voice calm and slow.

Alon straightened up immediately. "Yes, the day after tomorrow, she’ll come in person to treat you. She specifically requested the level-nine strength-enhancing plant."

"Good. I’ll leave this to you," Jorathon replied, finally lifting his gaze to meet Alon’s. "Alon, you’re the heir I’ve chosen. Don’t let me down."

"Of course," Alon answered, his tone serious.

Without wasting a moment, he went off to contact the top doctors on Planet Nagano, ensuring that all the necessary equipment was prepared and on standby.

He understood the gravity of the situation. This wasn’t just about his grandfather’s life—it was about the entire future of the Mendez family.

If Jorathon Mendez didn’t survive, their enemies, or even distant relatives, would likely tear them apart, and the family would crumble.

By the time he had arranged everything, evening had fallen.

Alon, exhausted, pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, seeking a moment of peace.

Suddenly, the door to the study burst open.

"Alon! I heard you’re letting that witch treat Grandpa? And you’re giving her the level-nine plant?" Vivian stormed in. Her lace nightgown and bow-adorned headband suggested she had rushed over after hearing the news.

A cold glint flashed in Alon’s eyes. "Who told you?"

"Don’t try to change the subject. If I hadn’t recorded Bamby, you would’ve kept me in the dark!" she snapped, referring to her room’s robotic butler.

She marched around the desk, eyes blazing. "You know how she treated me, and now you want to work with her? And give her the level-nine plant? What makes her deserve it?"

Her voice was thick with betrayal and hurt.

"Because she’s confident she can cure Grandpa’s genetic disease," Alon replied, his head pounding but trying to keep his cool. "Grandpa doesn’t have much time left. Do you understand what that means for us if he’s gone?"

In a world dominated by superpowers, money alone wasn’t enough to ensure survival.

Vivian’s anger simmered down slightly. "But just because she claims she can cure him, we should trust her? What if she tries something and harms Grandpa instead?"

"She wouldn’t dare." Alon’s tone hardened as he looked at his still-fuming sister. "This is too important. Don’t be childish."

"But what about what she did to me? When she comes, she’ll mock me! Dad once said he could handle her, but here she is! We should’ve killed her instead of just trying to take the plant."

"Enough! Dad was punished by Grandpa because of that," Alon said, clearly done with the conversation. "Go get some rest."

Vivian was frustrated, but she knew Alon was as stressed as she was.

She turned and went to find Jorathon, tears brimming in her eyes.

"You have no idea how she mistreated me, Grandpa. You’ve never even scolded me, but she planted a superpower seed in my heart—she could kill me anytime she wants," Vivian sobbed as she lean her head on Jorathon’s lap.

Jorathon gently patted her head. "But I need to get better first, so I can protect you from her, sweetheart."

Vivian listened, but deep down, she wasn’t satisfied with his response.

...

Right on time, Morrison drove Lyra to the Mendez estate in a sleek Lev.

As they cruised through the city, he couldn’t help voicing out his concerns. "Boss, even if this deal goes through, what if the Mendez decide to retaliate later? Old Mendez isn’t exactly known for playing nice."

Lyra, reclining in the back seat, barely blinked as she answered, "Aside from charging them a hefty fee to cover potential losses, I don’t have any better ideas right now."

She then opened her eyes, staring out the window at the bustling cityscape.

Half of the skyscrapers and high-end malls they passed were tied to the Mendez family. Despite the bitter feud she had with this powerful clan, their mutual interests had forced them into this uneasy partnership.

But once Jorathon—the real power behind the Mendez—recovered, could she withstand the inevitable backlash?

The answer was pretty clear.

When they pulled up to the Mendez estate, a familiar face was there to greet her at the entrance. It was the same housekeeper who had once kicked her into the hole on Wyrmtrace—a senior servant of the Mendez family.

"Welcome, miss," the housekeeper said, her narrow eyes set deep between puffy lids and dark circles, giving her a haughty and mean appearance.

Lyra stepped out of the car and gave a polite nod. "Thank you for all you did."

It wasn’t clear if she was referring to the current greeting or the brutal kick she’d received back on Wyrmtrace.

As expected, Morrison wasn’t allowed to enter the estate.

Unfazed, Lyra turned to him. "You can head back. I’ll let you know when I’m done."

Knowing she had a plan, Morrison nodded. "Sure thing, Boss. Just give me a shout, and I’ll come get you."

"Will do."

With that, Lyra was led through the grand estate to the back of a lavish, palace-like villa.

This area felt even more secluded and mysterious, with ancient trees and thick, twisting vines—a symbol of the Mendez family’s deep roots and enduring power.

Inside, Lyra was guided to a room where an old man sat on a white fabric sofa. The housekeeper stepped aside and introduced him, "This is Mr. Jorathon Mendez."

Jorathon was of average build, dressed in a green hospital gown, ready for treatment. His face was pale, but his eyes—drooping yet sharp with years of wisdom—radiated an authority that could chill anyone to the bone.

Though just over a hundred years old, Jorathon was already a level-eight Peculiar. If his illness was cured, he could easily live another seventy or eighty years, with a chance of advancing to level-nine or beyond, delivering the Mendez family to even greater heights.

Without bothering to glance around, Lyra nodded slightly as she introduced herself. "I’m Lyra."

Before Jorathon could respond, she added, "Time is limited. Show me what you’ve got."

Though she didn’t have the experience or power of the Mendez, Lyra stuck to her own pace. She knew they needed her more than she needed them—especially since they didn’t realize how vital the level-nine plant was to her.

Jorathon smiled calmly. "Of course." He then gestured to the housekeeper. "Have Alon bring it over."

The housekeeper nodded and was about to leave when Alon quickly entered the room. Seeing Lyra, Alon immediately plastered on a smile. "What brings you here so early?"

Lyra was almost an hour ahead of schedule.

Lyra noticed the anxiety in Alon’s eyes and replied calmly, "Some preparations need to be made in advance."

Alon maintained his smile as he walked over to his grandfather, whispering something in his ear.

Jorathon’s eyelids flickered before he looked back at Lyra. "There’s still some time before the scheduled treatment. Since you need to prepare, feel free to start. I also need the doctors to make further adjustments to my condition."

Then, turning to Alon, he added, "Alon, take Miss Shedd to the room."

Once they were inside the room, which was filled with various medical equipment, Alon began explaining the upcoming procedures. But Lyra cut him off, getting straight to the point. "Is there an issue with what I requested?"