NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1821: Hereditary
Villain Ch 1821. Hereditary
"I know," he said eventually. "I walked away from all that. But the fact that this video is resurfacing now?"
He narrowed his eyes. "It means Sophia's desperate. And desperate people don't play fair. Especially not her."
Emma leaned back, head tilted. "So what? She wants revenge? Clout? Or you back?"
Allen scoffed, darkly amused. "If it's the third one, she's really lost it."
Emma chuckled, then her expression shifted—her eyes gleamed, that mischievous sparkle forming. "Still. Just a reminder." She nudged his arm. "You're a Goldborne now."
Allen looked over. "And?"
She grinned. A little too wide. "Maybe it's time you start handling things the Goldborne way."
He raised a brow, but didn't speak since Allen knew what she meant.
Her eyes gleamed with sadistic delight made his skin crawl—in a strangely familiar way. Reminded him of his dad. Of Jordan. "We don't just play defense. We profit off other people's collapse."
Allen stared at her for a beat.
And there it was. That glint. That signature, shark-like glint of someone born under the Goldborne name. That gleam that said, "I don't want justice. I want poetic irony with interest."
He smiled slowly.
A dangerous, wicked smile.
"I guess," he said, voice velvet and venom, "I could do that."
His thumb tapped the screen of his phone again. The video sat there like a trap waiting to be triggered.
He didn't need to leak it.
Didn't need to touch it.
The fact that it was out there, floating like toxic gas in a locked room—was enough.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, grin widening.
"But for now," he said, low and cold, "I just want to watch them kill each other."
Emma blinked. Then snorted. "Okay, now you're starting to sound like Dad."
"Yeah," Allen said with a soft chuckle. "Guess some things are hereditary."
They both sat back at the table, silent for a few seconds. The hum of the house was the only sound—some faint kitchen clatter, a ceiling fan above, the rustle of palm leaves against the window.
The storm outside hadn't started yet. But Allen could feel it coming.
"You think it'll explode?" Emma asked, quieter now.
Allen didn't look up from his phone. "Already has. Maybe they just don't know it yet."
Another pause.
Emma twirled her spoon slowly. "You gonna tell Dad?"
"No need. But he probably already knows. You know him. Sometimes I know he pretends just to test us, or me. Lying to him isn't an option." Allen rolled his eyes. "Man runs a gaming empire and still knows when I sneeze weird."
Emma laughed under her breath.
Then she leaned in again, her grin tilting sideways. "So… what are we gonna call this operation? Revenge 2.0? Digital Divorce? P*rno Politics?"
Allen gave her a deadpan stare. "Please stop naming it."
"'Devil Emperor's Last Laugh'?"
"No."
"'Sophie's Regret'?"
Allen groaned. "Stop."
Emma grinned and tossed her spoon into her empty cup. "Fine. But I want a front-row seat when the fire starts. I'll bring snacks."
Allen leaned back again, letting the edge of his phone tap gently against the table.
He was calm now. Too calm.
That dangerous kind of calm that made the Devil Emperor infamous.
And this time?
No raids.
No swords.
No health bars.
Just real-world pieces.
Falling into place.
He opened the chat with Gerry.
Allen: Tell me where your friend got the file. Don't send it anywhere else. Just sit on it. Let's see Darren and Liam's reactions.
His finger hovered for a second. Then he added one more line.
Also. Thanks.
He hit send.
The reply came almost instantly.
Gerry: It's Gilbert who sent me.
Allen almost choked on his tea.
He coughed, eyes widening slightly. Of all the names he expected, that wasn't it.
Gilbert? That meant—
Shit.
If Gilbert knew…
Then Elio definitely knew.
Across the room, Emma stood up with a stretch, arms overhead.
"Well," she said, voice casual, "I'm gonna go pretend to study."
"Use that term loosely," Allen said.
She walked off, calling over her shoulder, "And you go full Goldborne, alright? Break hearts. Shatter reputations. And—" she peeked back with a wicked grin, "—make it look like you didn't lift a finger."
Allen raised his teacup in mock toast. "With pleasure."
The door clicked shut behind her.
Allen stared out the window.
Bright skies. Lazy clouds.
And somewhere out there?
Panic.
Delicious, chaotic panic.
He could feel it. Like static in the air. Like the tremble before a crash, or the heat before a wildfire.
Darren and Liam were definitely freaking out right now. Probably throwing things. Calling lawyers. Digging up old alibis they barely remembered.
And Allen?
He didn't feel a damn thing.
No sympathy. No anger.
Just… satisfaction.
They'd betrayed him once.
And now, karma was chewing them like stale bubblegum.
He leaned back into the chair, one hand idly tapping the table as he let the thought settle in. Letting Sophia bite the hands that fed her? Oh, yeah. That was poetic. Disgusting—but poetic.
Still… something itched at the back of his brain.
Allen frowned.
That video… they were supposed to have it. Darren and Liam had gone full shadow-ops mode. Lawyers. Cleaners.
But clearly, they'd missed something.
Or…
"She kept a copy," Allen muttered to himself. "Of course she did."
Sophia always kept insurance. That woman was a walking vault of dirt.
Allen wouldn't even be surprised if she'd hidden files inside her cooking app.
But what bugged him wasn't just the video.
No.
It was Mr. Bell.
Allen's eyes narrowed.
Chatlogs. Flirty emojis. Late-night call receipts.
Enough to raise eyebrows.
Enough to ruin reputations.
Mr. Bell wasn't just anyone. Clean image. Big money.
If his name got tangled in all this?
Yeah. The fallout wouldn't stop with just a few sorry.
Allen chuckled under his breath. "Guess a day in jail only made her restless."
He could already imagine her, pacing a hotel room in some dress, sipping cheap wine from a stolen minibar bottle, phone in one hand, vengeance in the other.
"Crazy," Allen muttered. "And not even the fun kind."
Still, he wasn't going to stop her.
Let her unleash hell. Let the flames spread.
He'd just keep his hands clean… and enjoy the smoke.