The Killer Queen (Noella Briony)

In the sleek, dark offices of the Pollack Group, a man in a meticulously tailored black suit exuded a chilling aura, his arms crossed as he faced the overreaching middle-aged man before him.

Palmer slowly removed his gold-rimmed spectacles, which served a purpose beyond aiding his vision, and methodically polished them with a cloth.

"Your demands are simply ludicrous. It seems you might have had one too many at the pub last night. If you are facing any mental afflictions, I wouldn't mind arranging some professional help for you."

Eamon Pollack's face shifted through a spectrum of colors. Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

"My dear nephew, the company is a big pie, and it's not just for you to carve up. I'm merely asking for my fair share of the stocks," Eamon insisted.

The majority stake in the Pollack Group was firmly in Palmer's grasp, with a significant portion allocated to Sexton and only scraps left for everyone else. Eamon's eyes were set on the slice of the pie held by Sexton.

Palmer sneered with contempt. "Dream on!"

Eamon slammed his fist on the table, his corpulent frame quivering with rage.

Moments later, he scoffed. "My dear nephew, you're riding high now, but would your little lady friend feel the same?"

Palmer's brow furrowed instantly. "What are you implying?"

Reading Palmer's reaction like a book, Eamon knew he'd hit a nerve.

"Hah, my naive nephew, as your elder, I think it's time I teach you a lesson. To truly steer the ship, you can't afford weaknesses. I'll relieve you of this burden, and you should thank me for it!"

Eamon's expression turned sinister. "My dear nephew, it's your own high-profile antics that put Ms. Schnabel in the spotlight. If you hadn't flaunted her at the auction, I wouldn't know where your affections lie."

He was about to add more when a sudden, severe pain shot through his leg!

Looking down, Eamon saw the gun pointed at him and his own thigh bleeding profusely. Palmer's eyes were filled with murderous intent, striking fear into Eamon's heart.

Gritting his teeth, Palmer hissed, "Uncle Eamon, if a single hair falls from Noella's head, I will hold you and your entire family accountable!"

The fear in Eamon's heart was indescribable. He realized at that moment that Palmer's previous inaction wasn't due to lack of courage. Palmer's methods were far more terrifying than Eamon and his associates could have ever imagined.

Discarding Eamon's trembling body, Palmer strode out of the office, his pace urgent. He rushed to the parking lot, slammed the car into gear, and sped off.

After several unanswered calls to Noella, despite knowing she was more than capable of taking care of herself and should have someone with her, Palmer's heart refused to settle.

Memories of his youth flashed before his eyes as he saw the same scene unfold once more.

With clammy hands gripping the steering wheel, he drove relentlessly until he reached the antique shop.

Megrez was whistling while hosing down bloodstains on the stairs. The sight of Palmer's car pulling up, and Palmer emerging with an aura of fury, sent a shiver down Megrez's spine.

Was Vocalist here seeking retribution against their boss? Or had he finally figured out their boss was a swindler?

Determined to be a loyal henchman, Megrez stammered, "Vocalist… Mr. Pollack! Boss isn't… isn't here…"

Palmer's gaze swept past Megrez, focusing intently on the interior of the shop.

There, in the sunlight, sat a wicker chair gently rocking. A delicate hand stroked a cat nestled in the lap of a lady who turned her head slightly, yawning, her eyes misting over with drowsiness.

"Palmer? What brings you here?"

Palmer stood still, ensuring the scene before him was without flaws before approaching. He knelt on one knee before the wicker chair, and the cat, sensing the scent of blood, leapt away.

"Are you alright?"

"Me? I've been here soaking up the sun. What could possibly happen?"

Palmer exhaled a sigh of relief, joy flooding his heart at her safety. He held Noella’s hand to his forehead.

"I was worried that…"

Noella looked at him, surprised to see such vulnerability in someone usually so composed and decisive.

She softened her voice, realizing the cause of his disquiet. "The men who came here have been dealt with."

Palmer nodded affectionately. "I apologize. It was Pollack family business."

"It's not your fault, and you don't need to apologize," Noella reassured him, adding, "Several Pollack family members have been treading on Polaris Star's territory. I would have had to deal with them sooner or later."

Thus, none of this was Palmer's doing.

Understanding her implication, Palmer wasn't fully placated. Those men could come back for her!

Megrez, witnessing the tender scene, patted his chest in relief.

Vocalist wasn't here for vengeance, and it seemed their boss hadn't been caught with another man after all.

Dutifully, Megrez brought over a chair for Palmer, placing it beside Noella's wicker chair. "Mr. Pollack, please sit. Two groups, thirty-five men in total, all taken care of. The mastermind still needs to be handled."

Palmer settled next to Noella, his voice cold with intent. "Their lives, I'll collect personally."

Megrez grinned from ear to ear. "That's the spirit. Our boss has never been one to be trifled with."

"I get it!"

Not many dared to come after their boss, treating her like some helpless canary ripe for the taking.

Megrez was practically buzzing with excitement!

Even if their boss was a canary, she was the kind that could snap a crocodile's neck with one bite— a deadly canary with venomous fangs.

Noella handed Palmer a handkerchief, and after a moment's hesitation, she tenderly wiped his face herself.

"You've got blood on your face," she murmured softly. "It looks like spatter. Where's it from?"

"Thigh, I think. Can’t remember. Should've aimed straight for the heart."

Noella couldn't help but smile slightly, hearing the frustration in Palmer's voice. "There's always next time for target practice."

"Okay, I'll listen to you."

The scene was oddly touching and harmonious.

Malvina, standing to the side, pretended she hadn't seen anything.

Why did she suddenly feel like a third wheel? It was too much—like she'd swallowed a whole bag of sour grapes!

...

Larson, waiting in front of the screen for some good news, leapt up from his chair!

"What did you say? All our guys are gone? Could Palmer have anticipated this? Impossible! And Palmer injured Eamon? How dare he!"