Chapter 532

Confinement in a pitch-black room, completely isolated from the outside world—the disorientation and dread could shatter even the strongest will.

Nathaniel understood the art of psychological torment.

Rosalind smirked, her lips curling with satisfaction. "Isabella had this coming. She stole Harrison's identity and lived like royalty for years. These three days are merely her paying the price for what she took."

Harrison's gaze was glacial, her heart consumed by vengeance for her father.

Just then, she turned toward the car window, her brow furrowing at the sight of multiple roadblocks.

"Why are they shutting down these streets?" she murmured, perplexed.

Rosalind frowned. "This is one of Willowbrook's busiest thoroughfares. I've never seen it closed off before. What’s happening?"

Nathaniel glanced outside, his expression unreadable. "I don’t know."

Rosalind blinked in disbelief. "Mr. Falcon, you’re the most powerful man in Willowbrook. How could you not know about this? This is unprecedented."

Nathaniel found it equally strange. He pulled out his phone. "I’ll make a call."

He dialed Dominic’s number.

Dominic answered immediately, his tone deferential. "Mr. Falcon."

"Why are there so many road closures in Willowbrook today?" Nathaniel demanded.

"I noticed that too. It’s not just the roads—the airport has also been shut down," Dominic replied.

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. "Why?"

"Rumors say a high-profile figure from Metropolia is arriving in Willowbrook today."

A high-profile figure from Metropolia?

Nathaniel’s face remained impassive, but his mind raced. "Where are the Whitmore family members now?"

"They’re already at the cemetery, waiting for you."

The entire Whitmore family had gathered. Their eagerness was unusual—almost suspicious.

"Understood," Nathaniel said, ending the call.

Rosalind arched a brow. "Mr. Falcon, any idea who this Metropolian VIP could be? This is sudden. There were no whispers about it before."

Nathaniel’s brow furrowed slightly. "Only a handful of people in Metropolia wield enough influence to cause this level of disruption."

Harrison’s sharp eyes locked onto Nathaniel’s face. "Who do you think it is?"

His voice was calm. "I don’t know."

Rosalind shrugged. "Whoever it is, it doesn’t concern us. Our focus today is making the Whitmores answer for their crimes."

Yet Harrison couldn’t shake the unease coiling in her chest. Something felt off. She had a sinking suspicion that today wouldn’t go as planned.

Her gaze lifted, meeting Nathaniel’s in the rearview mirror.

He was watching her.

Their eyes held, a silent exchange passing between them. His voice was steady, reassuring. "Don’t worry. I have everything under control."

Soon, the convoy of luxury cars pulled into the cemetery. Harrison stepped out, only to be met with a light drizzle.

Cold winter rain kissed her skin, sharp and biting.

Then, a black umbrella appeared above her. She looked up to see Nathaniel holding it, shielding her from the downpour.

The rain pattered softly against the fabric, droplets splashing onto the damp earth below.

Nathaniel stood beside her, tall and commanding. "They’re all here. Let’s go."

Harrison lifted her gaze—and there they were.

Margaret, Theodore, Victoria, Penelope, Frederick, and Cassandra.

Every last member of the Whitmore family had arrived.