PAMPERED BY MY THREE BROTHERS: THE RETURN OF THE NEGLECTED HEIRESS
Chapter 1827: Victory... almost

Chapter 1827: Victory... almost

Meanwhile...

The sound of gunfire echoed everywhere, but from where Nathalie stood, it was faint—barely audible beneath the smooth jazz playing from the phonograph. Odd? Perhaps. But not for her.

For her, the sound of gunfire was the sound of victory—her victory.

"It was a long war, Naylani," she whispered to herself, sauntering over to the stand where her wine waited. Her lips curled as she picked up the glass.

Swirling it gently, the deep red hue coated the curved glass. She took a slow sip, letting its sweet aroma and taste coat her tongue. Satisfaction painted her expression.

"How sweet," she murmured. "But nothing’s sweeter than the taste of victory."

This war had lasted decades.

It all began the moment her father uttered those cursed words: "Take care of the Zorken Family, Naylani." From then on, Nathalie had been fighting—not just for power, but for control of her life, of everything she was robbed of by those mere seven words.

She’d started with only a few factions of the secret society and half the Zorken Family reluctantly backing her. Now? Her organization had grown so vast that she no longer needed the Zorken Family’s military power—the Shadow Order.

Yes, that was the only reason Nathalie had built her own empire: to prove to the Zorken Family and the Shadow Order that she didn’t need them. If they couldn’t accept her, even after both Noel and Naylani were dead, then she’d claim power on her own terms.

Although, she had to admit, she disliked how lowly their businesses were. Not out of guilt, of course. Her issue was purely aesthetic. These illegal dealings simply lacked class. Not that she could complain.

"After this, I should pay a visit to a few others as well," she hummed, lifting her glass to her lips. "Without the Shadow Order, nothing can stop me or anyone from claiming a new seat in High Society."

Another chuckle escaped her as she took another sip, smiling at the wine’s taste.

Nathalie was still taking her time, waiting for Butler Gilbert to return so they could leave the mansion, when he finally arrived. She glanced at him, arching a brow as the smile on her face faded at his ashen look.

"I don’t like the look on your face," she said coolly. "What is it now?"

Butler Gilbert marched toward her, his expression grim, swallowing hard before he spoke.

"Madam, we have to go," he said. "We can’t take those hostages with us."

"And why is that?" Nathalie arched a brow before glancing at the window and then back at him. "What’s going on outside, Gilbert?"

Her butler pressed his lips into a thin line. "We are under attack."

"I know we are under attack," she said with a scoff. "After all, Zoren’s men wouldn’t just sit still after hearing the gunfire in the pavilion."

"It’s not like that, Madam," he shook his head. "They got into the mansion."

Hearing that, Nathalie’s face darkened and turned cold. "What do you mean, they got in? A mere small group of not more than thirty was able to push their way inside the mansion?"

How many soldiers had they stationed at the entrance of the mansion? Fifty? Sixty? Were they all that bad that even with their numbers, they couldn’t stop Zoren’s men from getting in?

"Tch," Nathalie hissed, but still not as alarmed as Butler Gilbert. "How useless. Let them be. Just kill them all. After all, even if they get in, Zoren’s already dead. They’ve lost. What they’re doing is just a futile struggle."

As she said that, she walked toward the phonograph to stop the music playing. But as she took several steps, she stopped at what Butler Gilbert blurted out.

"He’s alive."

Slowly, Nathalie looked back at him and cocked her head to the side. "What did you say?"

"Zoren Pierson is alive—"

CLANG!

The end of his sentence was cut short by a sharp clang as the glass in her hand flew, hitting his head directly. Butler Gilbert’s head was low, both blood and wine dripping from his head onto his clothes. After a second, Nathalie grabbed his collar.

"Say that again," she hissed, her dark eyes burning. "Zoren Pierson is, what? Alive?"

Butler Gilbert winced a bit at the throbbing on his forehead but looked at her apologetically. His reaction, however, didn’t soften her. If anything, it only made her blood boil.

"How is that possible, Gilbert?" A low snarl escaped her, grinding her teeth. "You ordered your men to kill him. Tell me how he could survive fifteen armed men while being unarmed, huh?"

"I think—"

"You think?!"

"Madam, when I went to check the pavilion, all our men were down," Butler Gilbert breathed out. "And there’s only one explanation for why this had happened." He truly believed it.

After all, Zoren’s men were outside. And the others were still somewhere on the island, confronted by other forces. Unless Zoren had brought more people with him, then there was only one explanation for who could save Zoren.

"The Shadow Order?" Nathalie knitted her brows in disbelief. "Octavia is already dead, and most of its members were either imprisoned, taken as slaves, or dead. Zoren couldn’t have secured the remaining Shadow Order’s allegiance that quickly."

Butler Gilbert lowered his head. "Either way, Madam, we have to go. Zoren’s men and the Anteca’s special group are one thing, but the Shadow Order is also another. It is best to retreat for now."

There were simply too many enemies.

Bitterness shone in Nathalie’s eyes as she clasped his collar tighter. Tonight, she should be celebrating. But because of these damn pests, they were ruining that.

"Madam," Butler Gilbert called again, holding her eyes. He repeated, "We have to go."

She didn’t answer immediately, her chest heaving heavily. After another second, she let him go and huffed.

"I’m going to kill you," she hissed at him, but Butler Gilbert didn’t answer.

With that, Butler Gilbert led Nathalie out of the room, but not without arming themselves just in case.