Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users - Chapter 161

Chapter 161: So What Happens Now?
The room was quiet again, but it wasn’t the same silence as before. This one felt heavy, like it was sitting on everyone’s chest.

You could hear chairs creaking slightly, the restrained shift of movement, the smallest breath.

And at the center of it all, Isabella sat like she had all the time in the world. Her drink rested in one hand, fingers tapping gently against the glass. No rush. No kindness.

Then she stood again. Smooth, unhurried.

She didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t ask questions.

She just started walking.

The first man she stopped at was the one who had tried bargaining earlier. He looked up at her, eyes bloodshot now, lips pressed into a line so tight it seemed like they might split.

“Your second wife,” Isabella said softly, not looking directly at him, just past him. “She never knew about the daughter you had with the hotel maid, which you hid from her.”

His shoulders jerked.

“She found out two years ago. You remember that argument? The one where she smashed the mirror?

She was screaming because she already knew. Not because you told her, but because your housekeeper did because she couldn’t handle the ‘guilt’.”

The man’s eyes widened. “You—”

“She was mine,” Isabella said, still calm. “From the start.”

But she didn’t linger.

She walked past him like he wasn’t worth standing near for more than a few seconds. His mouth was open, but no sound came out.

There was no fight in him—only disbelief, then he started cursing, but she didn’t mind as she was having too much fun.

The next one was the chain-wearing thug who’d laughed loudest earlier.

“Last year, you accused your older brother of leaking a warehouse location. You sent your men to handle it. You even paid off the police to stay quiet.”

He blinked fast, trying to act like he didn’t know what she meant.

“The warehouse that burned down?”

Her tone sharpened for a moment, just a notch.

“That wasn’t your brother. That was your driver. He planted the tracker, left the back entrance open, and reported the result.”

He stared at her, frozen.

“I had the whole thing documented,” she said. “But I waited. I wanted to see if you’d go as far as blood, but should I say, surprisingly… or maybe not, but you did go after someone as close as your brother.”

She then continued her way along the line to the next victim

Two men down, and from the looks of it, it seems that she has dealt a solid blow to their confidence.

The third man she stopped at was the youngest of the group. He looked barely past thirty.

His face was pale, and his hands shook even though no one was restraining him anymore. He hadn’t said a word since the last chapter ended.

“You kept thinking you were smarter than the rest,” Isabella said.

He tried to speak, but she lifted her hand slightly, and he froze.

“You knew how to play clean. You kept your side operations small. You used burner phones, silent runners. You even had your mistress do half your codeword drops.”

She tilted her head.

“But you got sloppy last fall. She texted a photo she shouldn’t have.”

His mouth parted. “No, no one ever—”

“The woman she sent it to? Her ‘sister’?”

A pause.

Isabella finally looked him in the eye.

“Yes, she works for me, too.”

The man collapsed into his seat, legs giving out like someone had cut the strings. He didn’t cry.

But something in him cracked. That was obvious. Whatever confidence he’d built up, whatever pride he carried for how well he thought he hid his tracks, it all crumbled.

This is not because of her exposing part of their dark history, no, the crack came from how thoroughly she had made sure to integrate her workers into their circles, and this is the scariest part.

Isabella didn’t stop.

She walked to the final man she planned to visit this round.

He was older. Calmer. He hadn’t said anything since she arrived. Not out of fear. Not out of respect. He’d just watched.

But even now, as she approached, he kept his eyes up.

Isabella said nothing at first.

Then she raised her glass slightly, like a toast.

“Finally, do you remember your son?” she said. “The one you trusted enough to start grooming for succession.”

His expression didn’t change.

“He came to me three years ago. Said he didn’t want to live in your shadow. He said he was tired of being undermined by you and being treated like a pawn piece, like you did with his brothers.”

Still nothing. But his throat tightened, just slightly.

“I told him I wouldn’t do anything to him or you, that he was just another man. But he insisted. So I let him watch.”

Isabella turned and walked back toward the front.

“I let him see how you did business, how you acted when no one was looking. How you joked when it wasn’t your family at stake.”

She stopped just a few steps away.

“He decided on his own after that. He fed me everything, but not for money, or for favors.”

She took a sip from her glass.

“He just wanted to be free.”

The old man didn’t say a word.

But something in his eyes broke.

The crack wasn’t loud. It wasn’t messy. It wasn’t even violent.

But it was final.

And Isabella saw it.

She looked around again. All of them. The ones who mocked her. The ones who tried to cut her off from the inside. The ones who thought they could decide her fate.

They weren’t whispering anymore.

No one was asking for forgiveness. Not yet.

But they weren’t fighting either.

They were still.

Not in defeat.

Not yet.

But in realization.

This wasn’t about strategy.

It was never about power.

This was about whom they underestimated.

And now they were watching the price of that mistake.

One of them finally broke the silence.

The man with the chain. His voice cracked.

“So what happens now?”

His voice wasn’t demanding.

It was lost and hollow.

And Isabella’s answer?

Just a look.

One who said he already knew.