Hearing this, Loren smiled and turned off the projector.
"My father kept this secret from you to save your face, but you didn't know what was good for you and kept targeting him. In the end, you even went so far as to kill him. Tell me—do you deserve to die?"
"No, this isn't true! You made this up. Your father is responsible for my eldest brother's death. Don't try to deceive me."
"You idiot—what good would it have done my father to kill your eldest brother? As his sister, you should know his character better than anyone. He was free-spirited and hated the constraints of family above all else.
If Uncle hadn't died, he never would've had to take charge of this sprawling family, never would've been burdened with constant worry, and never would've had to witness your two revolting displays every single day.
He could've traveled the world and lived the life he truly wanted. Anyone could've killed my uncle—anyone—except my father. His death brought my father nothing but grief and duty. It served no purpose for him."
"No… no! I can't be wrong. This is all a lie—a lie!" Maeve shook her head, her face twisted in disbelief.
"It doesn't matter whether you believe it or not. I'm determined to avenge my parents. And now—I'll send you to hell!" As Loren spoke, he lunged forward and stabbed Maeve with the dagger he'd snatched earlier.
But at that very moment, Freddy—the butler who'd been standing silently behind Loren—suddenly stepped forward, drew a pistol from his waistband, and pressed it against the back of Loren's head, finger tightening on the trigger.
What he never expected was that Loren had already spun around. The dagger in his hand flashed like cold lightning—and severed Freddy's gun hand at the wrist before the shot could fire.
"Aaah!!"
A shrill scream tore from Freddy's throat. Clutching his mangled arm, he stared at Loren with wide, disbelieving eyes. How had the young master anticipated his ambush?
"Old butler," Loren said with a playful smirk, "you didn't actually think you'd hidden it well, did you?"
"How… how did you find out?" Freddy rasped, fury and pain warring in his voice.
"That night at the police station," Loren replied calmly, "I was attacked by those men in black. They pretended to be eliminating the gunman—but their real target was me. If 2B hadn't been there, I'd have been beaten to a pulp.
Afterward, I retraced every step. Only one person knew I was going to that station in advance… you. So tell me—who else should I have suspected?
But you, old man—you've been patient. Waiting, watching, never making a move. Honestly, I was starting to wonder what excuse I'd need to kill you!
Now, thanks to Maeve, everything's clear. She just admitted her poison gas filled the room—and yet you stood there, completely unaffected. Amateur. Next life, try acting like a proper traitor."
With a flick of his wrist, Loren slashed the dagger across Freddy's throat. The old butler crumpled instantly—lunch box delivered, swift and clean.
Maeve's face darkened as she watched her planted agent die so effortlessly. Despair flickered in her eyes. She knew the game was lost.
"I never thought I'd fall into the hands of a little bastard like you," she spat. "I can't accept it! You should've died with your damn parents!"
But Loren, who had been watching silently from the shadows, now stepped forward and laughed coldly. "I love seeing you hate me to death but being powerless to do a thing about it. Go ahead—let it eat you alive."
"You… you—pff!" Maeve's rage boiled over. Blood sprayed from her lips as her eyes flooded with crimson veins.
"Hah! You freak aren't just stupid—you've got the temper of a cornered rat. No wonder you'd murder your own brother. The Morgan family must've pissed off eight lifetimes' worth of ancestors to spawn someone like you!"
"Shut your mouth, you little bastard! You have no right to judge me. This is all your father's fault—he deserved to die!"
"You still don't get it, do you?" Loren said, voice dropping to a razor's edge. "This was never about your brother—or my father. We were both pawns in a much larger game.
If you truly want to avenge your uncle—no, let's be honest: your lover—then tell me everything you know. Only then can I find the real killer… and tear them apart piece by piece.
Or keep playing the fool. Keep letting them use you while you count their blood money. Either way, I'll uncover the truth. It'll just take longer.
But from what I've uncovered so far, one name keeps surfacing: Hydra. They reached out to you after you left the Morgan family, didn't they? And they offered you something you couldn't refuse… Am I right?"
Loren didn't raise his weapon. He simply waited—letting the silence coil around Maeve like a noose.
When Maeve heard what Loren said, she couldn't help but freeze in stunned silence for a moment. It was obvious Loren was right.
If this had happened before, she never would have believed a word of it.
But now she'd seen the video left by the original owner's father and had witnessed Loren's methods firsthand. She knew the Loren standing before her was no ordinary person—so his words carried real weight with her.
"If you're silent, that means you agree," Loren said. "Looks like I was right. All of this really is Hydra's work. It's even likely the man you contacted killed your uncle—and you, such a fool, actually helped him. It's ridiculous."
"No, no—he wouldn't lie to me! Don't try to sway me!" Maeve cried. "I've already avenged my brother. Yes… I've already avenged him." Her laughter turned manic—"Hahahaha! I won't reveal the secret, not even if I die. Long live Hydra!"
Suddenly, Maeve began screaming like a madwoman. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. She'd clearly bitten into the poison capsule hidden there—and her time was running out.
But what Loren hadn't expected was this: just as death took hold, Maeve leaned in close and whispered softly into her ear,
"Alexander Pierce… it's him…"
Before she could finish, Maeve collapsed—dead.