Chapter 669 --669

Chapter 669: Chapter-669

In a stroke of twisted luck, the symptoms of a fatal intracranial hematoma perfectly mirrored the first trimester of a difficult pregnancy. She could literally hide her terminal decline in plain sight.

So, she let them believe it. She simply leaned her head against the velvet cushions, murmured that she was incredibly tired, and went to sleep.

When they finally returned to the Vanguard estate, Heena retreated to her chambers and slept for hours, her failing body dragging her into a heavy, suffocating exhaustion.

From that day onward, a noticeable shift settled over the Vanguard Madam. She stopped going out to terrorize the civil court. She spent most of her days indoors, sleeping far more than a seasoned warrior ever should. She ate slightly more to appease her grandparents, only to frequently, violently empty her stomach hours later. Anyone in the estate who harbored even a shadow of a doubt had their suspicions entirely erased by her constant lethargy and nausea.

Naturally, Grandpa Vanguard immediately summoned an imperial physician to confirm the joyous news. However, after a very quiet, heavily armed conversation in Heena’s private quarters—and a substantial, highly illegal bribe—the terrified physician walked out and officially declared the Vanguard Madam to be expecting.

The news hit the capital like a localized earthquake.

The military factions erupted into absolute, unadulterated jubilation. The Vanguard bloodline was secure! The generals threw wild banquets, drinking themselves into a stupor to celebrate the upcoming birth of their future commander.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, the civil officials were completely devastated. The Prime Minister’s faction, who had been praying for the Vanguard lineage to die out, felt like they had been collectively punched in the throat. Among the most deeply disappointed was an old, greedy war comrade of Grandpa Vanguard—the foster grandfather of the original Heena. He had spent years hovering around the estate like a vulture, banking on the fact that if Heena never married or had heirs, he could subtly lay claim to the Vanguard military tally and unimaginable wealth. But Grandpa and Grandma Vanguard were not idiots; they had locked down the inheritance rights in ironclad legal ink long ago. And now, with a "baby" on the way, the old vulture’s dreams were permanently crushed.

Inside the heavily fortified walls of the estate, Grandma Vanguard was in a state of absolute euphoria. She spent her days aggressively pampering Heena, treating the ruthless warlord like a fragile, spun-glass doll. She personally cooked premium tonics, sewed tiny military uniforms, and hovered over Heena with overflowing, unconditional love.

Sitting in her plush bed, wrapped in expensive furs, Heena watched her grandparents bustling around the room with bright, joyful smiles.

A rare, heavy knot formed in Heena’s chest. She felt a sharp, undeniable pang of guilt. She was a sociopath when it came to politics, but lying to these genuinely good-hearted people who loved her so fiercely was a unique kind of pain.

"I feel terrible," Heena murmured softly, her dark eyes reflecting a glimmer of genuine remorse as she watched her grandmother walk out to fetch more blankets. "It’s cruel to give them hope when I’m just going to leave them in a few months."

A blue digital orb phased into existence beside her pillow, its interface radiating absolute, unfiltered sarcasm.

"At least have the decency to say that after putting the bowl down, Host," the System scoffed, its pixelated eye glaring at her hands.

Heena blinked, looking down at the massive, steaming bowl of premium braised pork and abalone porridge her grandmother had just hand-fed her. She was currently scraping the bottom of it with a silver spoon.

Heena immediately scowled, clutching the bowl protectively against her chest. "It is my food, prepared specifically for me. Why are you getting so heated over it? Let a dying woman eat in peace."

Before the System could formulate a scathing digital retort about her weaponized appetite, a sharp, disciplined knock echoed from the heavy oak doors of her bedchamber.

"Yes, enter," Heena called out, casually setting her empty porcelain bowl on the bedside table and waving the digital orb away.

The doors pushed open, and General Kael stepped into the room. The towering, battle-scarred commander moved with uncharacteristic caution, his heavy boots stepping lightly across the floorboards so as not to disturb the supposedly fragile, pregnant Madam. He stopped a respectful distance from the bed, dropping to one knee in a crisp, deeply respectful military bow.

"Greetings, Madam," Kael said, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered.

Heena waved a hand dismissively, pulling the expensive silk furs up to her waist. "Skip the formalities, Kael. What is it?"

Kael stood up and stepped forward, pulling a tightly rolled, wax-sealed document from the inside breastplate of his dark armor. He handed it to her, his expression grim and deeply frustrated.

"We have hit a wall, Madam," Kael reported, his voice dropping into a low, serious register. "We deployed the shadow guards to locate the hidden underground granary belonging to Marcus Liu, but we cannot determine its exact coordinates. The physical trail has gone completely cold."

Heena unfurled the document, her dark eyes scanning the intelligence report with terrifying, hyper-analytical speed. The lethargy of a sick woman vanished completely, instantly replaced by the razor-sharp focus of a warlord. "Cold? How?"

"The last known contact Liu met with—a black-market logistics broker who supposedly managed the transport carts—was found dead in the southern district slums early this morning," Kael explained, his jaw clenching in anger. "His throat was slit. It was a flawless, professional silencing. Because of his sudden death, the chain of custody is broken. We currently do not have a single shred of concrete evidence on paper to prove that Marcus Liu is the primary financial abuser behind the military grain embezzlement case."

Kael looked down at the floor, expecting his ruthless commander to be furious at the failure. "I apologize, Madam. Without that witness, we cannot legally petition the Emperor to audit him."

Heena stared at the report for a few silent seconds. She didn’t throw a tantrum. She didn’t yell at Kael for losing the asset.

Instead, a slow, incredibly cold, and deeply predatory smile crept across her pale face.

"Legally petition the Emperor?" Heena scoffed lightly, rolling the document back up and tossing it onto the foot of her bed. "Kael, we are the Vanguard syndicate. Since when do we care about imperial legal procedure?"

Kael blinked, looking up in confusion. "But Madam, without evidence—"

"A perfectly timed assassination of a key witness is the greatest piece of evidence you could ever hand me," Heena interrupted, her eyes gleaming with dark, sociopathic brilliance. "Innocent men do not panic and hire professional assassins in the middle of the night. If Marcus Liu is actively killing his own logistics brokers, it means his granary is currently completely full of our stolen military rations, and he is terrified we are going to find it."

She leaned forward, completely ignoring the throbbing pain in her head.

"If the civil court wants to play dirty by silencing witnesses, then we will stop playing by the law," Heena ordered, her voice dropping into a lethal, commanding hum. "Tell Saura Chijen to stop looking for paper trails. I want him to start looking for the rats."