Pampered By My Three Brothers: The Return Of The Neglected Heiress - Chapter 1693

Chapter 1693: An Earthquake? I don’t think so
In the underground vault, men searched every corner. There were many things inside—a closet with a man’s clothes, a laboratory counter for research, books regarding chemicals and reactions, and some untouched chemicals.

There seemed to be a lot more, but this more was actually less.

None of the items—at least, none that were still intact—provided enough information.

The leader of the group squatted near a small pile of ash, picking up a half-burned piece of paper. It was a printed photo of someone, but most of it had already burned, making the person unrecognizable.

“…” His mouth formed a thin line, eyes falling on the pile of ash. The smoke and burnt papers were still fresh—the only proof that someone had been here before them.

His eyes glinted as his jaw tightened.

Where did they go? he wondered. If they left before we came in, we would’ve noticed. I had the area sealed with our men.

Anyone who came out of that hatch door or the back alley would’ve been seen. After all, they had just received the coordinates to this place and were told to raid it. Their only order was simple: burn all the evidence in this place.

Any information that could be crucial to their organization had to be destroyed.

That part was already done—before they even arrived. Which meant the person, or people, who burned those documents had seen far more than they should have.

The question now was: how did they escape?

There was only one entrance and exit, and that was the hatch door. There was another path, one that led past the space where the vault entrance was located. But that led to a dead end. He assumed it was designed as a distraction, or something Jonathan—the man who owned this vault—had built to buy time in an emergency.

There’s only one explanation for how someone could disappear without getting noticed, the commander thought grimly. A secret door.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

A loud ringing suddenly echoed through the vault.

The man raised his head and turned. Some of his men were holding devices, scanning the walls and floor. His scarred eyes moved to the source of the sound, spotting one of the men holding a device that was now flashing and beeping rapidly.

The man moved it slightly, causing it to beep even louder. Then he looked at the commander.

“Commander, there’s probably something here,” he said. “Maybe a hidden door or a secret compartment.”

“Break it down,” the commander ordered.

“Yes, sir!”

Some men dragged a sledgehammer over and began pounding on the tiled wall.

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

With each strike, tiles shattered and flew in different directions. Bits of cement began to crumble and scatter across the floor.

BAM!

Some men stepped back to avoid the debris, while the commander stood unfazed. He watched as they continued smashing the wall until a large chunk of concrete broke loose.

Everyone froze as the man who had cracked it moved forward. He inspected the opening before turning to their leader.

“Commander, it’s a door,” he reported.

The commander nodded, unsurprised. For someone as secretive and cunning as Jonathan, this was expected.

“Tear it all down.”

With renewed focus, the men unleashed everything they had on the wall. Minutes passed in relentless effort until the opening widened into a gaping hole—blocked by steel.

Then, one of the men began attaching something to the steel door.

Everyone watched him affix the device. Then, he turned to the commander.

“Ready, sir.”

“Get out of here,” the commander ordered, already turning on his heel.

His men followed, some taking cover just outside the vault entrance. The man who had planted the device held another small controller in his hand. He looked toward the commander—and when the latter gave a nod, he pressed the only button on the device.

Beep… beep… BOOM!

—

[Back to the Love Motel]

Dean and Atlas quietly read through the documents they had retrieved from the secret passage’s drawers. They didn’t talk, simply scanning anything that caught their interest.

“Huh…” Dean tilted his head, holding a ledger and skimming it. “I shouldn’t be reading this.”

Yet here he was, flipping through the slush fund’s numbers.

“Senator Smith is really something, huh?” he muttered, not surprised. “With this kind of campaign budget… well, this explains a lot.”

Corruption didn’t shock Dean. After all, the Pierson family had government members in their pocket. Not directly through Zoren, but he knew some relatives were keeping people in power on their payroll to make things easier.

He had little hope for people in power. Not all of them were bad—but a handful followed wherever the money went. And that was a cruel reality, now and likely forever.

“I wonder if he gathered all this himself or had help?” Dean asked aloud. “No way Jonathan pulled this off alone. If he did, he’d have had to start young… which I doubt.”

Atlas, who had been silently analyzing the papers in his hand, glanced at Dean. Unlike him, Atlas didn’t doubt Jonathan had started early. Though it was possible he’d had help, Atlas assumed—for now—that this was Jonathan’s work alone.

‘He’s not the type to trust anyone,’ Atlas thought, his eyes drifting back to the contracts in his hand. ‘And if I’m right… he’s part of the same organization being run by that Naylani Pierson look-alike.’

Atlas paused. A cold glint flickered in his eyes.

‘If he’s a member, but also gathering intel that could destroy the organization, then the chances of him working with someone else are close to zero.’

This was a dangerous path Jonathan had chosen. A path of betrayal. And if Atlas’s guess was correct… the organization had finally caught on to his activities.

Silence settled over the motel room. Despite the distance between them, both men could hear each other’s quiet breathing.

But then…

They heard something.

The sound was faint, but the ground trembled slightly beneath them.

“What is that?” Dean looked up. “An earthquake?”

Atlas met his gaze briefly before turning his head toward the shelf they had come from.

“I don’t think so,” he said.