Distant
CHAPTER 57
Adrian moved without haste.
In the midst of the shattered authority, the kneeling guards, the trembling elders, and the suffocating silence that clung to the hall like smoke, he walked to the nearest high–backed chair and sat down.
Not stiffly.
Not cautiously.
He sat as a king would–relaxed, one arm resting against the side, posture casual yet unmistakably commanding.
His coat settled around him as if the chair itself had been waiting.
A faint smile touched his lips.
“I have to admit,” Adrian said calmly, his voice echoing through the vast hall, “I enjoy scenes like this.”
Several elders stiffened.
“I enjoy watching people who trample others,” he continued, eyes drifting lazily toward Varric Ventress,” finally taste their own medicine.”
The words landed like a verdict.
Varric Ventress was already shaking violently. Sweat soaked through his robes, dripping from his chin to the marble floor. His breath came in short, panicked gasps. The man who had arrived moments ago like a sovereign, backed by guards and influence, now looked like a cornered animal.
His raised hand trembled uncontrollably.
Freya’s eyes burned.
“Enough!” she shouted, stepping forward despite the pain still radiating through her body. “If anything happens to my father–your entire generation will pay for it!”
The hall stirred.
Several elders gasped at her audacity.
Freya’s voice rose, sharp and venomous. “You don’t know what kind of family you’re dealing with! You think this ends here? If I make one call—just one—you’re finished!”
Her gaze locked onto Adrian, filled with hatred and warning.
“The Ventress family is not alone,” she continued coldly. “The Cole family. The Anderson family. Two of the greatest families in the Medical City. They know our worth. They stand with us.”
Murmurs erupted instantly.
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“The Coles…?” “The Andersons too?” “That’s not something to joke about…”
Several elders turned pale.
‘Those families weren’t just powerful—they were entrenched. Deep–rooted. Their influence stretched beyond the Medical City, into regulatory councils, research institutes, and enforcement bodies. If they moved together, even presidents would fall.
Freya lifted her chin. “If they move against you, prison would be the least of your worries.”
She sneered. “You’d disappear.”
Adrian leaned back slightly in his chair.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
But genuinely amused.
“Go ahead,” he said lightly. “Call them.”
The hall froze.
“I’d love to see it,” Adrian continued, his smile widening just enough to unsettle everyone watching. “Truly.”
The murmurs grew louder, more frantic.
“Is he insane?” “The Coles won’t tolerate this…” “The Andersons protect their allies viciously!” “Has power gone to his head?”
Several elders exchanged nervous glances.
“Even if he’s strong… this is too much…” “No one provokes all three families at once…” “Just one call and it’s over…”
A vice elder whispered urgently, “He doesn’t understand… the Ventress–Cole alliance is unbreakable.”
Adrian heard every word.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting with something unreadable.
“The Coles wouldn’t dare,” he said calmly.
Silence.
“And the Andersons?” Adrian added casually. “They’re smarter than that.”
The hall felt colder.
“You should consider other options,” Adrian continued, voice steady. “Because that threat won’t save you.”
Varric’s breathing turned ragged.
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The raised hand he had kept trembling in the air–summoning courage, authority, anything–finally gave out.
His legs buckled.
He collapsed forward, crashing onto the marble floor with a dull thud.
“Father!” Freya cried, rushing toward him.
Several elders surged forward instinctively, panic flashing across their faces.
“He collapsed!” “He’s losing consciousness!”
Adrian glanced down at the fallen man and scoffed.
“Tch,” he muttered. “Already?”
The elders froze.
Adrian’s eyes flicked to those rushing forward. “Careful,” he said lightly. “Unless you’re planning to join him.”
They stopped instantly.
The silence stretched.
Then Adrian stood.
He walked toward a nearby table, picked up a glass of water, and returned slowly. Every step echoed, measured and deliberate.
He crouched beside Varric Ventress.
Then–without warning–he poured the water straight onto the man’s face.
Cold liquid splashed violently.
Varric choked, gasped, and jolted awake, sputtering and coughing uncontrollably.
The hall erupted in shock.
“He woke him up…?” “He revived him just like that?” “After collapsing from that pressure…?”
Varric stared up at Adrian, humiliation burning in his eyes brighter than fear.
Adrian stood and stepped back, indifferent.
“You’re not allowed to pass out yet,” he said flatly. “Not until you understand your place.”
Varric trembled, his pride shattered beyond repair. He clenched his fists weakly, hatred simmering beneath the
terror.
I’ll make him pay, he thought desperately.
But first… I need to leave this place alive.
Freya helped her father sit up, her jaw clenched so tightly it trembled. She glared at Adrian with naked hatred,
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but there was fear there now too–fear she could not suppress.
Adrian returned to his chair.
He sat again like nothing had happened.
The hall remained silent, every person watching him with growing unease.
Where did his confidence come from?
That was the question gnawing at everyone’s mind.
He wasn’t bluffing.
He wasn’t posturing.
He wasn’t reckless.
He spoke of great families as if they were inconveniences.
And worse-
He wasn’t afraid.
Not of influence.
Not of alliances.
Not of consequences.
Catherine stood frozen among the crowd, heart pounding. She stared at Adrian’s back, trying to reconcile the calm man she knew with the terrifying figure now seated like a ruler among broken elites.
Who… are you really? she wondered.
Around her, whispers resumed–soft, fearful, reverent.
“His confidence… it’s terrifying…” “He treats powerful families like jokes…” “If he’s not afraid… then what does he know?”
Adrian rested his chin against his hand, gaze distant, unreadable.
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