Chapter 133: Ghost of the Past

Noah’s POV

Four bodies.

Detective Harris, according to his name tag, stood over my hospital bed, staring at me like he was waiting for me to break down, confess, and beg for a lawyer.

My mind was working quickly, calculating every single move. How the hell was I going to handle this situation without blowing my cover? I had the power, the money, and the underground leverage to wipe this entire police report off the municipal server with a single phone call. I could have Harris transferred to a desk job in the middle of nowhere by midnight.

But I couldn’t risk it.

What if this detective wasn’t just a standard cop? What if Harris was an undercover dog planted by the criminal syndicate? If I flashed my true authority here... if I revealed that I was the surviving heir pulling strings in the city’s shadow network... my real identity would be completely exposed. The syndicate elders would realize that I know everything, and they would send a full hit squad straight to this hospital.

Fuck.

I made a massive, stupid mistake. I shouldn’t have let my anger take control at that construction site. I should have let Damon do the dirty work and beat those four bastards to death while I took care of saving Micah. Then Damon’s family money could have handled the legal mess, while my hands stayed completely clean.

Instead, I let my rage blind me the second I thought of them laying hands on Micah. Now, four college boys were dead, their blood was literally splattered across my clothes, and a homicide detective was trying to put murder charges on my head.

"I’m waiting, Miller," Harris snarled, leaning closer, tapping his pen against the metal bed railing. "Explain why you shouldn’t be in handcuffs right this second."

"Young master!"

A loud voice suddenly shattered the tension in the room.

The door was thrown open, and an elderly woman rushed inside, completely ignoring the armed officer stationed in the hallway.

"Oh! Old woman," Damon groaned, furrowing his brows as he pushed himself up against his pillows.

It was the elderly nanny who ran the Silver household. She marched straight past the detective, dropped her heavy purse on the floor, and sat right on the edge of Damon’s bed. Her hands were moving all over Damon’s face, neck, and shoulders, checking for broken bones.

"Look at you! You’re bruised all over!" she cried out, her voice cracking with pure emotion. "I almost had a heart attack when the police called! I’m so happy you’re alive! Your father was worried sick!"

My head snapped directly toward Detective Harris. A cold, dangerous fury flared in my chest.

"Father?" I hissed, glaring at the detective. "Did you call our parents?"

Harris sneered, entirely unbothered by my anger. "Why, yes, we did. You’re college students involved in a multi-fatality incident. Contacting legal guardians is standard protocol, Miller."

I clenched my fists under the hospital blanket, gritting my teeth together so hard my jaw ached.

Is this cop completely insane?!

If Father found out about this... if Bernard Miller showed up at this hospital and saw that Micah had been dragged into a bloody kidnapping and homicide case... he would drag Micah straight out of that bed. He would fulfill his threat from dinner last night without hesitation. He would shave Micah’s head, throw him into a military transport, or lock him away in a remote monastery where I would never be able to touch or protect him again.

"Who did you speak to?" I demanded, my voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "What did he say?"

Harris let out a bored sigh, flipping a page on his notepad.

"We spoke to Mr. Silver’s private office," Harris replied casually, nodding toward Damon. "But we haven’t been able to reach your father. We called your home line and his personal cell four times. No answer. The man is probably busy."

I raised a brow, the murderous tension in my shoulders easing by a fraction of an inch.

Harris had no idea where Bernard Miller was.

That single detail told me everything I needed to know. Detective Harris wasn’t a syndicate plant. He wasn’t working for my father. If this detective was connected to the syndicate, he would have known that Bernard was completely unreachable tonight because the old bastard was actively running the underground kidnapping operations for Plan Mayor.

Harris was just an annoying, regular cop trying to make a name for himself.

I let out a quiet breath of relief.

Father hadn’t answered the phone. He didn’t know about this yet. Micah wasn’t going to get caught, and he wasn’t going to get shipped away tonight.

"Excuse me, Detective."

A deep, commanding, highly cultured voice cut through the room from the doorway.

The heavy door pushed open wider, and my personal butler stepped inside. He was dressed in a pristine three-piece charcoal suit, his grey hair neatly slicked back, his posture radiating immense wealth, dominance, and absolute authority. Two lawyers in tailored suits followed closely behind him, clutching thick leather briefcases.

David didn’t even look at the cop. He walked straight toward my bed, bowed his head with deep, unwavering respect, and spoke clearly for the whole room to hear.

"Master. I apologize for the delay. The paperwork has been finalized."

Damon froze. He tilted his head, his sharp eyes darting between David’s bowing figure and my calm face.

"Master?" Damon repeated, his voice full of suspicion and shock. "Noah... did that man just call you Master?"

Tsk.

Damon was the absolute last person on this earth I wanted sniffing around my secrets. David was supposed to play the role of the family servant, not bow to me like I was the head of an underground syndicate.

I parted my lips, ready to spit out a quick lie to shut Damon’s mouth before he started connecting the dots.

Before I could say a single word, a loud, trembling gasp erupted from the side of the room.

The old nanny froze completely. Her hands slipped off Damon’s shoulders. She stared at my butler with wide, horrified eyes, bringing both of her wrinkled hands up to cover her open mouth.

Tears instantly flooded her eyes.

"No way..." Susan whispered, her frail voice shaking violently with pure shock. "It can’t be... You... you are alive?"

David paused. He slowly turned his head to look at the elderly woman sitting by Damon’s bed.

The cold, stoic, professional mask on David’s face completely shattered into pieces. His eyes widened, his lips parting in utter disbelief.

"Susan?" David called out, his deep voice cracking with raw emotion.

"David!" she cried out.

Without another thought, without caring about the detective, the lawyers, or the two of us lying in hospital beds, the old nanny scrambled to her feet. David stepped forward, abandoning every shred of his strict butler etiquette.

They rushed toward each other in the middle of the room, throwing their arms around each other, clutching onto each other like long-lost ghosts who had just risen from the dead.

I sat frozen against my pillows, my jaw nearly dropping open.

Damon sat across the room, staring at them with his mouth hanging wide open in complete bewilderment.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

What the hell was going on right now? This was supposed to be a high-stakes legal cleanup to save me from murder charges, not a tearful, emotional lovers’ reunion.

How the hell did my family private butler know the Silver family’s head nanny?