He Slapped His Pregnant Wife—But He Didn’t Know Her Father Was Outside

Viktor’s calm, arrogant demeanor flickered for the very first time.

A sudden crease formed between his eyebrows as the sound of heavy armored transport vehicles surrounded the perimeter of the courtyard once again.

"What is this?" Viktor demanded, his eyes darting toward the open front doors.

Outside, the matte-black tactical vehicles had repositioned with military precision, forming an airtight blockade around the main entrance steps. Red laser sights flickered to life across the upper balconies, instantly painting Viktor in a web of crimson dots from a half-dozen unseen sniper rifles.

Commander Vance stepped forward, drawing his sidearm and leveling it squarely at Viktor’s chest. "Hands where we can see them, Viktor. You just walked right into an active jurisdictional trap."

Viktor didn't panic. He didn't run. Instead, he let out a low, dry chuckle, shaking his head slowly as he looked at Camila.

"Brilliant," Viktor murmured, raising his hands slowly in mock surrender. "You used my own ego against me. You knew I couldn't resist coming here in person to scope out the new management, so you left the perimeter sensors wide open to lure me inside."

"You wanted to test my ambition," Camila said, her voice as cold as ice. "I wanted to draw the head of the snake out of its hole. Welcome to the cage, Viktor."

Viktor lowered his hands, his expression shifting from amusement to a chilling, unpredictable calm. "You think a tactical blockade and a tribunal arrest warrant are going to hold me, Camila? You’re playing checkers while the board is already on fire."

"We'll see how well your global syndicate operates when your primary communication relays are seized and your offshore accounts are locked behind military encryption," Camila replied sharply. "Vance, secure him."