Not long ago, the Chuzhou Provincial Party Committee held a Standing Committee meeting to discuss personnel reshuffles and related matters. Right after the meeting, the Provincial Organization Department released the official appointment notice.

Raymond Calloway was removed from his posts as Secretary, Standing Committee member, and committee member of the Yishan Municipal Party Committee. At the same time, he was appointed Secretary of the Party Working Committee of the Chuzhou Provincial Party Committee organs, and Deputy Secretary-General of the Provincial Party Committee.

At that moment, the whole political circle in Chuzhou basically exploded with gossip.

Giles Whitmore, the Provincial Party Committee Standing Committee member and Secretary-General, had reached the age limit and was about to step back from frontline work. Raymond Calloway was only fifty-three. In everyone’s eyes, this transfer looked obvious as hell—it had to be paving the way for him to take over Giles Whitmore’s seat and become the next Provincial Party Committee Secretary-General.

For a while, the Calloway household was packed from morning till night. Guests kept streaming in, one after another. The doorstep nearly got worn smooth. It was all congratulations, flattery, smiling faces, and noisy toasts. The scene was straight-up lively.

Yishan even held a grand farewell ceremony for him.

The newly appointed municipal party secretary was especially polite, calling him “Secretary-General” and “old leader” in every other sentence, sounding respectful to the point of excess.

But no one saw the real twist coming.

Raymond Calloway’s transfer had nothing to do with promotion.

The moment he left Yishan, the city where he had operated for thirty years, the power network he had spent years building collapsed almost overnight. What had looked solid and unshakable fell apart like sandcastle walls hit by a wave.

One month later, the Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection sent a task force into Yishan.

And the same new municipal party secretary who had been calling Raymond “old leader” just a month earlier suddenly turned into the face of the anti-corruption campaign.

The investigation quickly tore open everything Raymond Calloway had tried to keep buried.

During his years in office, he had formed cliques for personal gain, sold official positions, and acted as a protective umbrella for criminal gangs. The violations were serious, the discipline breaches even worse.

After nearly three months of review and investigation, many officials in Yishan were dragged into the case and ended up in prison.

As the principal offender, Raymond Calloway was expelled from public office and expelled from the Party.

On top of that, he was charged over property from unknown sources on a massive scale. He also refused to return illicit gains or make restitution. The circumstances were vile, the impact enormous. After being designated for cross-regional review by the provincial disciplinary authorities, the final sentence was handed down.

Death penalty.

Immediate execution.

Lifelong deprivation of political rights.

In Yunshan No. 1 Detention Facility, inside a separate cell, Raymond Calloway sat alone.

He wore a yellow inmate vest. On it was the number: 9527.

Handcuffs locked his wrists. Heavy shackles bit around his ankles. Every movement came with the dull scrape of metal, cold and harsh in the cramped silence.

The cell was dead quiet, so quiet it made a person’s chest feel tight.

Then a voice came from beyond the iron door.

“9527! You’ve got a visitor.”

The instant he heard that, Raymond shot to his feet.

The deadness in his eyes cracked open at once, and a flicker of light came back into them. Hope. Nervous hope. The kind a drowning man clings to.

He stepped forward subconsciously, his voice rough but eager.

“Officer... is it my wife and children? Are my wife and kids here?”

That “Officer” made the young guard’s face tighten with open disgust.

Raymond froze.

Then it hit him.

The old habit still hadn’t left him. Back then, when he was Secretary Calloway, high above everyone else, people answered carefully when he spoke. Even a casual form of address carried weight.

But now?

Now he was no longer the powerful Party secretary people crowded around.

He was just a condemned prisoner, stained with crimes, waiting for execution.

That tiny spark in his eyes wavered.

His lips moved, and when he spoke again, his tone had changed. It was flatter, lower, more careful.

“Reporting to the officer... is it my wife and children?”

The guard gave him a cold look.

“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t ask. Move. You get fifteen minutes. That’s it.”

Raymond Calloway shot to his feet, hope written all over his face.

There was no comb, so he ran his fingers through his hair again and again, trying to smooth it down. Then he tugged at his clothes, straightening every wrinkle he could find. There was no mirror either. He could only use the faint reflection on the stainless-steel door, a warped, blurry shadow of himself barely visible in the cold metal.

Step by step, he moved forward.

The heavy shackles scraped against the floor, each clink sharp and jarring in the dead silence. One iron door after another opened and closed. At last, he was led into the visiting room.

The hope on his face froze.

Then it collapsed.

The person sitting across from him was a woman in her fifties. Her face was lined with hardship, every trace of her expression carrying the weight of years that had not been kind.

“Maud!”

Raymond called out instinctively. But the next second, his face cooled. His tone turned stiff, even cold.

“Why is it you?”

Maud Calloway looked at her brother and let out a short, bitter laugh. For no reason she could explain, a wave of sorrow rose in her chest.

Pitiful.

Truly pitiful.

Her elder brother had wrecked his whole life over Alana Hartley.

“If it’s not me, who did you think it’d be?” Maud said flatly. “You really think anyone else would come here? Other than me, who’s left to collect your body?”

Her words were harsh, no sugarcoating at all.

But Raymond didn’t care about her tone. He leaned forward anxiously, his voice tight.

“Where’s Alana? Where are Eric and Brielle? Why didn’t they come see me?” His eyes locked onto her, suspicion already rising. “Was it you? Did you stop them? You’ve always had it out for the three of them. You never once called Alana your sister-in-law. And Eric and Brielle—you never treated them like your nephew and niece.”

Even now, with death staring him in the face, he was still thinking about those people.

That attitude lit Maud up on the spot.

She slammed her hands on the table and shot to her feet. “Raymond Calloway, wake up already! Alana Hartley was never a good woman, and those two kids of hers are no angels either. All these years, for that mother and her children, you ignored party discipline, ignored the law, crossed every line you shouldn’t have crossed. You’re about to be executed, and you still won’t reflect on anything?”

“What are you doing? Family members, calm down. Sit back down.”

A prison officer at the side barked the warning at once.

Maud took a breath, sat down again, then pulled out her phone. Her fingers trembled a little as she opened a video and pressed play.

A young man’s rude voice burst out first.

“You old woman, who even are you?”

Then the camera steadied, and Eric Ashford’s face appeared on screen.

“Raymond Calloway? We don’t know any Raymond Calloway. My surname is Ashford. My name is Eric Ashford. My sister’s name is Brielle Ashford. Our mother stayed a widow her whole life for us. Who the hell is Raymond Calloway supposed to be?”

Raymond’s pupils shrank hard.

Before he could react, another voice followed.

A woman around thirty, with a sharp face and an even sharper tone, sneered straight at the camera.

“That kind of man, Raymond Calloway, lost his ideals and convictions, broke the law and party rules, and got exactly what was coming to him. He deserves to be dealt with by party discipline and the law. What’s that got to do with us?”

That was Brielle.

His “good daughter.”

The girl he had once held in the palm of his hand.

Then the screen showed the last person.

Alana Hartley.

She was still elegant, still beautiful, still dressed with the same quiet grace he had once been obsessed with. But her face was icy, almost indifferent, as if talking about a complete stranger.

“Maud Calloway, stop making trouble out of nowhere. I have absolutely no relationship with Raymond Calloway. Everything was his own wishful thinking.” Her voice was calm, but every word stabbed like a knife. “Do you have any idea how I’ve lived all these years? He used his power to force himself into my life and occupy me for all this time. Now he’s finally getting his retribution.”

Raymond went completely still.

His mind buzzed.

This...

Was this still the gentle, virtuous woman he had loved for half his life?

Were these still the two children who had circled around him all day, clinging to him and calling him Dad?

For Alana Hartley, Raymond had spent his whole life clawing his way upward. He had fought, schemed, and dirtied his own hands just to give that mother and her children the best life possible.

For those two children, he had never even had one of his own.

Eric Ashford had gone around outside under his name, taking contracting jobs, acting lawless, making mess after mess. Every single time, Raymond had been the one cleaning it up.

And Brielle—

That sweet, obedient little girl he had spoiled beyond reason.

Every time she got into trouble, she would wrap her arms around his neck and call him Dad in that soft voice, begging him to fix it.

Again and again.

One time after another.

He had fallen to where he was today because of that family.

And yet even at the very end, he had never imagined it would come to this.

His breathing turned ragged. The veins at his temples bulged. His whole body shook like he had been struck head-on.

“No...”

He stared at the phone screen, eyes bloodshot.

“No, that’s impossible. Impossible!”

He suddenly roared, emotion fully breaking apart.

“You’re lying to me! Get out! Get the hell out!”

A few days later, Raymond Calloway was taken out and shot.

Even the cost of the bullet had been paid by Maud Calloway.

One gunshot.

Just like that, the once high-profile Raymond Calloway, a man whose name had once carried real weight in Chuzhou’s political circles, reached the end of his life.

Then he felt it.

His body seemed to go light, as if all at once it no longer belonged to him. His consciousness floated upward, drifting in a daze between disbelief and emptiness.

He saw Maud.

She said nothing, just quietly handled everything after his death. She collected his remains, arranged for the cremation, and took his ashes back to their hometown, burying him in the mountains beside their parents’ graves.

Close to them.

Just like when he was little, leaning against his father and mother, safe and warm.

Raymond’s soul wandered on, unsteady, hollow.

Then he saw Alana Hartley.

That woman still looked exactly the same as ever—bright, polished, radiant. She sat at the mahjong table with practiced elegance, fingertips neat, posture relaxed, looking like someone life had treated absurdly well.

Someone nearby laughed and said, “Sister Alana, you really won in this life. Raymond Calloway was completely gone for you. Dude was all in.”

Alana let out a soft laugh, light and lazy.

“Don’t say weird stuff like that,” she said. “The life I have now? That’s because my son and daughter are filial and sensible. As for Raymond Calloway, he was never a good man. All these years, he forced himself on me. He made Eric and Brielle take their enemy for a father. You have no idea how I survived all that.”

The moment he heard that, Raymond felt like his whole soul was about to split open.

Forced herself on her?

Enemy for a father?

What a joke. What absolute garbage.

Before he could even process the rage, Eric Ashford walked into the villa living room.

He was dressed head to toe in luxury labels, a Patek Philippe watch gleaming on his wrist. He strolled over casually and leaned against Alana with easy familiarity, like a pampered young master who had never lacked anything.

“Mom, your luck’s pretty good today.”

Someone beside them grinned and joked, “President Zhou, your dad died and you didn’t even go take a look?”

At that, Eric’s expression darkened on the spot.

“Watch your mouth,” he said coldly. “You can eat carelessly, but don’t talk carelessly. I’m a child of the Zhou family. My father was Jasper Ashford. Raymond Calloway had his eye on my mother from the start. I saw with my own eyes how he raped her.”

Raymond’s eyes went red.

“I raped Alana Hartley? She was the one who shamelessly climbed into my bed!”

But no one could hear him. His roar disappeared into nothing.

Eric kept talking, his face full of bitterness, like he was reciting a grievance he had rehearsed a thousand times.

“You have no idea. Every time I called that man ‘Dad’ over the years, my heart was bleeding. He killed my father. I can never live under the same sky as him.”

Raymond froze.

He killed Jasper Ashford?

Bullshit.

Jasper Ashford had gotten drunk and drowned in the reservoir himself. That was the truth.

And this—this smug, cold-faced man in designer clothes—was that same child who used to trail after him, calling him “Dad” in a soft, eager voice?

Was this really that kid?

Raymond listened to every word, and hatred boiled through him like poison.

So that was it.

So this was the real face of the family he had protected, raised, and indulged with everything he had.

If he had known they were this rotten, this heartless, he would never—never—have shown them even a shred of pity.

“Hahaha...”

The laugh that broke from him sounded wild and broken.

Blood tears streamed from his eyes.

Hatred.

He hated.

He had given that family everything with his whole heart, and in the end they were all white-eyed ingrates. That pitiful little boy who used to look at him with watery eyes had grown into this kind of thing. That woman who once wrapped her arms around him from behind, soft as water, had turned out to be a venomous snake in human skin.

In this life, he had let down too many people.

He had failed the organization that trained him, failed the leaders who trusted him, failed his parents, failed his brothers and sisters.

But to Alana Hartley and her two children, he had never owed a thing. He had not wronged them in the slightest. If anyone asked, he could have said with full confidence that he had done right by them, from beginning to end.

And yet the ones who stabbed him deepest were exactly those three.

Those three.

“I want all of you dead!”

Raymond roared into the air, his voice filled with fury and grief.

At that instant, a gust of sinister wind swept past.

His whole soul trembled violently, as if something icy had pierced straight through him. He shuddered once, hard.

Then everything went blank.

He lost all awareness.

And before his eyes, there was only darkness.