Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 212: What A Show

Chapter 212: What A Show

Lyra tossed the severed hand into the fireplace, where it was quickly consumed by the flames.

Chloe’s mother and brother clung to each other, trembling, their faces drained of all color. The entire room was filled with an oppressive fear.

"Monsters! How could you do this?!" Chloe’s voice trembled, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Morrison, standing nearby, looked torn. He gently took Chloe’s cold hand, trying to soothe her. "My dear, just give her what she wants. If you don’t, Donna and Cody will die."

Tears welled in Chloe’s sapphire eyes as she tried to pull her hand away from him.

"Why should I trust you?" she cried. Her father was already dead, and despite all her efforts to hide with her family, Lyra had found them in the end.

After what her father had done to Lyra all those years ago, she knew that forgiveness was impossible.

Morrison’s grip tightened as he pulled her into a desperate embrace. "At least believe in me," he whispered.

Then, to Chloe’s shock, Morrison dropped to his knees before Lyra in a plea for mercy. "Boss, I beg you, kill me if you want, but please just spare them!"

Crag, watching from the side, suppressed a gasp. He could hardly believe his eyes. ’Is this the same Morrison, the tough, no-nonsense man I’ve known for years? He’s actually pleading for a woman?’

Lyra’s expression darkened. "Morrison, you disappoint me." Her voice was sharp with displeasure. "I gave you three days, and yet you still haven’t gotten what I asked for."

Without a moment’s hesitation, her finger flicked, sending the dagger flying straight into Morrison’s chest.

Blood splattered across the floor, and Chloe let out a muffled scream, covering her mouth in horror.

"Forgive me," Morrison rasped, blood trickling down his chest. "I’ll do anything, as long as you spare them."

Lyra’s cold gaze shifted back to Chloe. "Four lives—all in your hands," she said, her voice like thunder in a clear sky.

"No!" Chloe cried, rushing to Morrison’s side, pressing her hands desperately against his wound. "I’ll give it to you! I’ll give you everything!"

With trembling hands, she touched the ring on her finger, which disguised a Space Button.

In an instant, a metallic box appeared on the coffee table. Chloe opened it, revealing a stack of old, worn papers—handwritten notes, her father’s legacy.

"Everything... it’s all here," she whispered, her voice quivering with defeat.

Lyra took the papers and flipped through them, her eyes gleaming as she read. A slight smile tugged at her lips as she tucked the documents into her own Space Button.

Without another word, she stood.

Chloe flinched, shrinking back into Morrison’s arms like a frightened bird.

Lyra, unmoved by the fear she had caused, made her way toward the door.

Morrison was wincing from the pain, and he suddenly remembered something. Staggering after Lyra, he called out, "Boss, please—Donna’s hand, can you heal it?"

Chloe gasped, shocked by his audacity. She didn’t want him to anger Lyra any further, but as she prepared to follow him, the maid stepped in her way, stopping her in her tracks.

Chloe’s heart raced with fear and worry.

Outside, Lyra turned, folding her arms as she regarded Morrison with a rare smirk. "You’ve got some nerve, don’t you?"

Morrison, gritting his teeth against the pain, offered a strained compliment. "Boss, your performance was flawless—though perhaps you went a little overboard with the dagger."

Lyra raised an eyebrow, amused. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a wave of healing energy his way. As his wounds began to close, she spoke, "You know, Sorren was injured in the exact same spot."

Morrison froze, a flicker of realization crossing his face.

"Just this once," she warned, her tone colder. "Don’t let it happen again."

It was clear to her that Morrison had hesitated to use harsher methods, unwilling to hurt Chloe, and now Lyra had to step in as the villain to extract the information. A game to win the heart of the woman he loved.

Morrison’s expression turned serious. "Understood. I swear on my life, I won’t let her cause any more trouble."

Lyra didn’t expect others to be as cold-hearted as she was.

Morrison, though sentimental, brought valuable benefits to the organization, so she didn’t mind rewarding him this once.

With a second wave of her hand, Lyra gathered more healing energy. "Take this. Now get back to work and don’t make me regret it."

Morrison’s face lit up with gratitude. "Yes, Boss!"

As Lyra walked away, a new feeling stirred within him—a sense of loyalty beyond duty.

For the first time, Morrison felt true gratitude toward her.

Up until just now, his relationship with Lyra had been purely transactional: he got the job done, and she rewarded him. But this gesture of forgiveness had planted the seed of genuine loyalty in his heart.

Morrison paused outside the villa, staring back at the imposing structure. His emotions swirled beneath the calm facade he worked so hard to maintain.

Suddenly, he slapped himself hard across the face, the sting sharp enough to draw blood from his lip. His cheek throbbed, but the pain grounded him.

It was a small, controlled act of rage—one he needed before facing Chloe again.

"Chloe, look," he said as he stepped back inside, the warm glow of healing energy in his hands.

Gently, he placed it over Donna’s severed wrist, and before their astonished eyes, a new hand began to grow, fingers extending, skin forming—fully restored.

"Now she won’t need a prosthetic," Morrison added with a soft smile, hiding the darker feelings still simmering beneath the surface.

Relief washed over Chloe, her mother, and her brother like a wave, the fear that had consumed them finally starting to ebb.

Donna looked down at her healed hand in disbelief, tears of astonishment filling her eyes.

"Thank you, Morrison," Chloe whispered, stepping closer, her fingers lightly brushing the still-red mark on his cheek. "She hit you, didn’t she? That must’ve hurt."

Morrison wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "I would take anything for you," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that masked his inner turmoil.

Donna, wiping her tears, approached hesitantly. "Morrison," she began, her voice shaky, "I’m sorry. I never should’ve driven you away back then. It was a mistake, and I regret it."

For a split second, Morrison’s eyes flickered with cold fury, the painful memories of his past rejection bubbling up. But he masked it quickly, turning back with a bittersweet smile.

"It wasn’t your fault," he replied softly. "I wasn’t strong enough to protect her back then."

Chloe squeezed his hand, her eyes filled with worry. "Morrison, let’s run away. Let’s escape from her—she’s a terrifying witch! I saw madness in her eyes."

Morrison’s smile turned sad as he gently guided Chloe to the couch, sitting her down.

"Lyra has her reasons," he said quietly, his tone measured. "She’s been through things that have made her this way. She wasn’t after you today, and she won’t come after you again. You can stay safe here. I’ll make sure of it."

He spoke with reassurance, carefully steering the conversation away from Chloe’s plea to flee.

Running from Lyra was a death wish, something he knew all too well. If it weren’t for his connection to her, he’d still be stuck in the Forgotten Quarter, a desolate place where people disappeared and were forgotten.

It had been Chloe’s family that ripped her away from him back then, leaving him powerless and humiliated. But now, things had changed.

Satisfied that Chloe’s nerves had settled, Morrison stood, preparing to leave. "Get some rest," he said gently. "I need to head back to work."

Chloe was hesitant but feeling safe for the first time in days. She rose to her toes and kissed his cheek softly. "I’ll be waiting for you to come back."

Morrison’s heart stirred at her gesture, something warm and unfamiliar spreading through him. He hugged her tightly.

"I’ll be back soon," he promised before walking out into the cool night.

Climbing into his Lev, Morrison’s expression shifted, the soft warmth from Chloe’s embrace fading as his face returned to its usual calm, determined state.

He had a job to do, and emotions were a luxury he couldn’t afford right now.

As he drove toward Lyra’s apartment, he mentally switched back to his role as her loyal and calculating right-hand man.

When he arrived, the scent of a late dinner still lingered in the air.

Phelixes was cleaning up in the kitchen, while Lyra herself sat at the dining table, her eyes intensely focused on the stack of papers Chloe had surrendered.

Despite the trouble it had taken to get them, the documents were sparse and incomplete.

"How is it?" Morrison asked, stepping forward, his voice measured and professional.

Lyra glanced up briefly, her sharp eyes flicking to the fresh mark on his cheek. She said nothing about it, merely gesturing toward the papers. "The most recent data is over a year old. It references an experiment on the second moon of Macraite."

Morrison frowned. "Macraite? That’s under heavy guard by the Starblade Legion. Breaking in won’t be easy."

Lyra nodded, already thinking ahead. "Contact Voidstar. I want agents on the ground. We need information before making any moves. We can’t afford to tip them off."

She had dealt with Macraite in the past, but things had changed since then.

If this research had any connection to Ansel, he would be keeping a close eye on it. They couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

Morrison nodded and left her to her work, quickly stepping out to make the necessary calls.

As Lyra flipped through the worn pages again, piecing together fragmented clues, her thoughts turned to her next task: a visit to the Calvin family.

By the time she left, it was late.

When she arrived at the Calvin’s, the cool night air carried the scent of fresh rose.

Lyra stepped out of her Lev, glancing up as another Lev pulled in. Isadora stepped out from the passenger seat.

The driver, clearly infatuated, leaned in, trying to steal a kiss. "Isadora, you were incredible tonight."

Isadora, her eyes sparkling with charm, smiled playfully. "You weren’t so bad yourself. Goodnight."

As the driver pulled away reluctantly, Isadora spotted Lyra stepping out of her Lev and smirked.

"Jealous?" she teased, her tone light and provocative. "A woman should be cherished, surrounded by admirers like a blooming flower."

Lyra glanced at her, her expression unreadable. "If that’s what makes you happy, then by all means, enjoy it."

Without giving Isadora another glance, Lyra strode past her and into the house, her mind focused on far more pressing matters.

Isadora huffed, stamping her foot in frustration.

"You just don’t understand romance!" she shouted after her, glaring.

But Lyra, as usual, didn’t bother to respond. There were more important things on her mind than games of the heart.