My Harem Will Help Me Get My Revenge-Chapter 56: [ - - 49.2] - The Endgame Begins

Chapter - 49.2

Lucius stepped out of Cassey’s room, calm and silent, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Her phone was in his hand. Slim. Password locked. Didn’t matter. He would get into it later.

He slid it into his pocket and made his way downstairs, quick but collected, scanning the hallway for cameras or witnesses. Nothing. Ghost moves only.

Iris was still by the garden’s edge, her phone just slipping from her fingers as Lucius approached. She was frowning hard.

Lucius slowed his pace, eyes sharp, scanning the shadows before settling on her face, "What happened? You look like someone died."

She didn’t look up immediately. Her voice was flat.

"I just got a message," she said, "From Mr. Singh’s assistant. The deal’s already signed."

Lucius’s eyes narrowed, "With Marcus?"

She nodded, jaw tight, "Done and dusted. They met privately tonight. He handed Singh the full amount in advance. No negotiation, no second call."

"What’s the issue with that palace?" Lucius frowned, "Why is everyone after it so hard?"

"I don’t know. But Grandmother... What should I tell her now?" Thinking about her grandmother, Iris was already having a tough time thinking.

"I will take care of it," he said calmly, "Give me till morning. Stall till morning."

Iris finally looked up at him, worry flickering behind her composed face, "Lucius..."

He raised a hand, "Just find out where Marcus is staying. That’s all I need."

Iris stared at him for a second, then gave a sharp nod and pulled out her phone again.

Lucius turned, already walking away as he dialed.

"Hello?" came the familiar raspy voice of Gopal, the chauffeur.

"Where are you?"

"Just reached home, Sir."

"I need to go somewhere. Meet me outside the hotel in five."

"Arre nice! Midnight adventure?" Gopal chuckled.

Lucius didn’t laugh, "No time for your silly jokes, Gopal."

Gopal’s voice straightened, "I understand, sir. Wait for me."

Lucius hung up and looked back toward Iris, who was still on her phone, fingers flying.

A few seconds later, she turned, "He is at The Imperial Residency. He has booked both, the 17th and 18th floors. It’s fifteen minutes from here."

Lucius nodded, stone-faced.

"Good. This ends tonight."

He gave her one last look, then turned on his heel and walked out of the garden.

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The black SUV moved like a shadow through the empty city roads.

Gopal drove with a faint smile, still in his white dhoti-kurta and vest, glasses gleaming under the streetlights.

"Are you going to knock on some doors with flowers or fire?" he asked casually.

"We start with fire," he said.

Gopal’s grin widened, "Young master is in the mood."

As they turned onto the boulevard leading to Marcus’s hotel, Lucius looked out the window, his voice cold.

"How do I reach Marcus now? The staff won’t let me in like this. They wouldn’t even give me his room number. It took a lot just to confirm he’s staying here. There’s no way they will hand over information easily."

The SUV slipped deeper into the night.

The SUV slowed near the entrance of his hotel. Sleek glass doors reflected the streetlights. Security was typical—valet, bellboys, one bored guard at the door.

Lucius scanned the front. Clean. Quiet.

Then, he spotted him, a courier boy, young, slouched on a bike, tapping at his phone near the side exit.

Lucius’s eyes narrowed, "Perfect."

"Stop the car," he said.

Gopal pulled to a halt.

Lucius stepped out, walked briskly around the corner, and approached the courier with casual urgency.

"Hey, brother," Lucius called out, as he reached the courier boy.

"Huh???" The boy looked at Lucius confused.

Lucius straightened, "Hey, you alright?" he asked.

The boy nodded, distracted by his phone still clutched in one hand, "Yeah, yeah. All good."

Lucius gave a fake laugh, then suddenly grabbed him hard by the collar and yanked him between two parked cars. Before the courier could scream, Lucius slammed his palm over the boy’s mouth and drove his fist into jaw. The courier collapsed with a grunt, hitting the pavement hard. One clean blow.

"Sorry, man... But I have no other option," he said.

With a final hit on his head. The man collapsed.

Unconscious.

Lucius didn’t waste a second. He pulled the boy’s ID tag from his neck, took the parcel, and slipped on a black face mask.

He stripped off the uniform, and put it on over his clothes. The fit was tight, but passable. The cap covered his face.

He checked the mirror of a nearby car, ruffled his hair slightly, slung the ID around his neck, and picked up the box like nothing had happened.

Gopal peeked around the corner and gave a quiet thumbs-up.

Now he walked back into the hotel.

Straight to the reception desk.

The receptionist, a young woman with tightly coiled hair and red lipstick, glanced up, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, delivery for Mr. Marcus Dorne," Lucius said in a gruff, tired voice as if he’d been making rounds all day.

"You can leave the package here. One of our staff will make sure it’s delivered," the receptionist said, her tone courteous.

Lucius forced a frown, "Thing is, madam, We have been asked to specifically deliver this to Mr Dorne."

"It is from someone Mr Singh. It is an Express delivery."

She hesitated, eyeing the ID card hanging around his neck, "Do you have any verification?"

Lucius slid the ID toward her.

"Wait, let me ask him," The receptionist said as she looked over his ID, then picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?" a deep voice answered from the other end. It was one of Marcus’s men.

"Yes, Sir. There is a courier here with your parcel. He insists that he needs to deliver it personally," The receptionist explained, "It is from Mr Singh, Pratap Singh."

A short silence.

The man turned to Marcus, who was seated nearby, and leaned in, "Sir, here’s some courier for you from Pratap Singh. Shall I let him in?" he asked quietly.

Marcus, busy checking the file, gave a subtle nod.

The man returned to the phone, "Yeah. That’s right. Send him up," he said, then ended the call.

The receptionist scanned Lucius’s ID, then handed it back with a polite but slightly wary smile, "Mr. Dorne has booked the top two floors— 17th and 18th. Only he and his men are staying there."

"You can go to any room on either floor," she added.

Lucius gave her a professional, appreciative nod, "Understood. Thanks for the help."

He turned sharply and walked briskly toward the elevator and hit the button. As the doors slid open and closed around him, he dropped the smile instantly. The cold look returned to his eyes.

The number ticked upward—1, 2, 3...

He glanced at his watch, "I might be done well before time," he smirked, "Plenty of time."

Ding!

The elevator abruptly slowed. Before it could reach the 17th floor, it stopped at the 16th.

The doors slid open. A tall man in a fitted black shirt stood waiting, brows furrowed, eyes sharp.

"Heading to the 17th floor?" the man asked.

"Yeah," Lucius nodded.

"Why?" The man asked, voice laced with suspicion

Lucius lowered his head slightly and lifted the parcel box in both hands, "Delivery. For Mr. Marcus," he said in a mild voice.

The man stepped forward, "You can give it to me. I work for him."

Lucius didn’t budge, "Sorry. Company policy. We hand it only to the person whose name is on the parcel."

"You don’t sound local," The man looked at Lucius from top to bottom with suspicion, "Remove your mask. Let me see your face."

"Pollution. I am allergic."

"Can you hear? I said remove your mask," the man growled, stepping closer to him.

Lucius raised his eyes slowly, a faint smirk forming his lips, "And what if I say no?"

The man’s eyes narrowed. His hand slid to his belt, drawing a pistol in one swift motion.

But Lucius was faster.

With one sharp motion, he slammed the parcel box against the man’s wrist, sending the gun clattering to the floor. In the same second, his other hand shot forward hitting the man on his nose.

Blood burst from the man’s nose as Lucius’s palm drove upward, a clean, bone-snapping strike. He staggered, dazed. But Lucius didn’t give him a chance to recover.

In one fluid motion, Lucius stepped into the man’s space, spun, and drove his elbow into the side of his jaw. A sharp crack echoed inside the elevator.

The man reeled back, dazed, but Lucius caught him by the collar before he could fall. He yanked him forward and rammed his knee into the man’s ribs. Once. Twice. Then spun and slammed him face-first into the elevator wall with a dull thud.

The man sagged, breath rattling. Lucius grabbed him by the back of the neck, smashed his forehead against the wall hard. The man’s body went limp instantly.

Lucius exhaled, adjusting his grip on the unconscious body. He gently guided him down, seating him upright against the wall.

Lucius exhaled calmly, straightened the box in his hands, and kicked the unconscious body to one side of the elevator.

Just then— Ding— the doors slid open.

17th floor.

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