His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 114: Zane's Pov

I sat in the darkness of my home office, staring at the monitors.

The cursor blinked on the screen. Waiting. The entire room felt too quiet, like the calm before a storm I was about to unleash myself.

My father's words still echoed in my head. "You can't save Grayson. You can't save Olive. Once I have that company, she'll be the first to suffer."

For a moment, I just sat there. Breathing. Letting the rage settle into something colder. Something calculated.

And then I smiled.

It wasn't a nice smile. It was the kind that came with dark thoughts and darker plans.

My eyes felt hollow. Empty. Like something inside me had finally snapped.

That feeling I'd spent years trying to suppress came flooding back. The murderous intent. The need to destroy. To obliterate anyone who dared stand in my way.

My father thought he'd won. Thought he'd backed me into a corner.

But he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

He hadn't just revealed that he was buying out Grayson Sinclair's company—the same man he'd destroyed ten years ago, the same man he'd made me take the fall for. He'd also shown his hand. Shown me that he was either working with Operation Resonance or being used by them.

He'd underestimated me. Again.

My whole life, he'd treated me like the bad seed. The disappointment. The son who couldn't live up to the family name. He'd groomed Antonio, praised him, held him up as the golden child while I was left in the shadows.

And I'd let him. For years, I'd played the obedient son. The screw-up who tried to make things right. All because my mother had begged me to keep the family together before she died.

But she was gone. And I was done pretending.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number only three people in the world knew existed.

The person on the other end answered immediately. No greeting. No questions.

"Override Resonance stage one," I said, my voice flat and emotionless.

There was a pause. Just a beat of silence where I could almost hear them processing what I'd just ordered.

"Yes, Boss. They won't see that coming."

"Good." I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming against the armrest. "And send the videos to the public."

Another pause. Longer this time.

"The scandalous videos?" The voice on the other end was careful. Making sure they understood exactly what I was asking.

"Video A and B. Both of them."

"Understood. When do you want this executed?"

"In two days."

I ended the call and turned my attention back to the monitors.

The Mercer stock was spiking. My father's company riding high on the news of the Hopkins buyout. Investors were already pulling out of Grayson's company, selling their shares in a panic.

It was exactly what my father wanted. Chaos. Fear. Control.

But he had no idea what was coming.

And I was going to allow him have it, be in charge, just for two days.

The videos I'd just ordered released weren't just random scandals. They were carefully curated pieces of evidence that would dismantle everything my father had built. Evidence of his gambling debts. His shady offshore accounts. His manipulation of stock prices.

Evidence that would destroy him.

I watched the clock. Two days. That's all it would take for the files to upload to every major news outlet, every financial blog, every social media platform that mattered.

Sixty seconds until my father's world came crashing down.

I should've felt something. Guilt, maybe. Regret. Some twisted sense of filial duty.

But I felt nothing. Just this cold, hollow satisfaction.

The clock hit zero.

My phone started buzzing immediately. Alerts. News notifications. Messages from people I hadn't spoken to in years about the company I had lead a collaboration with crashing down.

I ignored all of it.

Instead, I stood and walked toward my room. I needed a shower. Maybe I'd hit the punching bag for a while. Let some of this tension bleed out before I did something I couldn't take back.

I was halfway down the hallway when my phone rang again.

I almost ignored it. Almost kept walking.

But then I saw which phone it was.

Not my main phone. The other one. The one that only had one number saved.

Her number.

My heart, which had been cold and dead just seconds ago, suddenly surged to life. My chest tightened. My breath caught.

I stared at the screen, her name glowing in the dim light.

Why was she calling?

My mind raced through possibilities. Had she heard about her stepfather's company? Had someone told her I was involved? Was she calling to yell at me? To curse me out?

Or was it something else?

I crossed the room in three strides and grabbed the phone like my life depended on it.

My hand hovered over the screen. My pulse was racing. I felt like a pathetic teenager, nervous and desperate and terrified all at once.

I swiped to answer.

"Hello?"

Her voice came through the speaker, and I swear to God, something inside me broke apart.

"Zane."

Just my name. But the way she said it—soft, strained, like she'd been crying or trying not to—made everything else fade.

The anger. The rage. The murderous thoughts. All of it.

"I need to see you," she said quietly.