NOVGO.NET Chapter 1847: Burn It Down
Chapter 1847: Burn It Down
Villain Ch 1847. Burn It Down
Allen narrowed his eyes. “On what grounds?”
“Emotional distress. Claims you were abusive. Controlling. Manipulative. But she has no proof.”
Allen laughed once. Low and sharp. “She’s getting desperate.”
Kai didn’t smile. “Desperate… or strategic. She’s laying groundwork. If this case turns against her, she’ll pivot. She’s already trying to pull your name into the narrative—to build a pattern. If you don’t respond now, she’ll paint you as part of her trauma arc.”
“She’s sick,” Allen muttered. “And smart.”
Kai’s tone shifted, colder. “She’s escalating. That’s not coincidence. That’s a pattern.”
“She’s obsessed,” Allen said, voice flat. “Not with me. With the idea of owning me. Being relevant to me. Being attached to my name, even if it’s through a court record or a headline.”
Kai put the tablet down. “Do you want me to pursue a restraining order?”
Allen was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yes. Quietly. I don’t want to turn this into another circus—but if she comes near me again, I want legal fire ready to burn it all down.”
“Understood.”
He turned from the window, exhaling slowly.
“I’m heading out. Keep me posted. Anything new—call me directly.”
Kai nodded. “Of course, sir.”
Allen opened the door.
Sunlight greeted him again.
Too bright.
Too warm for the cold storm that still sat behind his ribs.
He didn’t flinch—but his eyes narrowed slightly, as if the sun had the audacity to pretend everything was fine.
The hallway leading to the dining room smelled faintly of brewed coffee, fresh toast, and lavender from the vases lined along the walls. The Goldborne estate was always immaculate. Silent but alive. Luxury wrapped in routine.
He moved with practiced ease, barefoot on cool marble, black shirt hugging his frame just right, sleeves rolled halfway up. His hair was still damp from the shower. No gym bag. No need. Not yet.
He turned the corner into the dining room.
Emma was already there, legs crossed casually on the velvet-lined bench, a thick book beside her untouched as she scrolled through her phone. She looked up as he entered, arching a brow.
“Morning,” Allen said, his voice smooth but low.
Emma smirked. “Hey. Looking nice.”
“I know.”
“Modest, as always.” She set her phone down, dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “So, you’re heading off for a week?”
He sat across from her, reaching for the carafe of coffee before the staff could. “Initial plan was five days, but…” He poured, steam rising in elegant swirls. “Shea’s caught up in something. Zoe’s on a tight schedule—her study barely gives her room to breathe. The others didn’t say anything at first, but I found out.”
Emma tilted her head. “So?”
“So it’s down to three days.” Allen stirred his cup with slow precision. “I’m taking dad’s jet.”
Emma grinned. “Sounds more efficient.”
“Yeah.” He took a sip. “Besides, I can’t disappear too long right now. You know what I mean.”
Emma leaned in slightly, resting her elbows on the table, chin propped on her knuckles. The smirk returned—sharper this time. Her voice dropped, silky and amused.
“Oh yeah. I heard about that.” Her sadistic little smile widened. “Your ex.”
Allen didn’t react.
“I read the posts,” Emma continued. “The chaos, the threads, the GoFund, the fake tears. She really had the guts for it.” She tilted her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt disgusted like that before. Maybe… maybe you need to end her life.”
Allen didn’t blink.
“If she keeps pushing me,” he said, calm as a blade being unsheathed, “yes. I will do that.”
Emma’s grin sharpened.
“But for now,” Allen continued, setting his cup down, “let them kill each other. At least their reputations.”
Emma huffed a breath through her nose, shaking her head. “I’m honestly shocked your circle included people like them.”
“I’m shocked too.”
The table between them went quiet for a beat. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, gleaming off the crystal glasses and the untouched breakfast spread—croissants, eggs, fresh berries, yogurt in silver dishes.
Allen reached for a slice of toast. “Don’t tell dad yet,” he said casually, spreading butter with practiced ease. “I’ve already started handling it. Kai’s on it too.”
Emma gave a lazy shrug. “I know. Dad doesn’t need to waste his time on that circus.”
She bit into a raspberry, then added, “Although… if he did find out, he’d probably make Sophia disappear just out of habit.”
Allen snorted. “Tempting.”
The dining room doors opened.
Jordan walked in.
Polished shoes. Navy shirt. Blazer slung over his shoulder. The scent of his cologne—light leather and oud—filled the room just before he did.
He moved with natural authority. Controlled. Calm. Charismatic in the way only seasoned power could be.
“Morning, kids,” he said, voice even, warm but firm.
“Morning, Dad,” Emma said, smile softening.
Allen nodded. “Morning.”
Jordan’s gaze flicked to both of them—reading the air, as he always did.
Then he walked around to the head of the table and sat, folding one leg over the other. The staff immediately appeared with fresh tea and an updated breakfast tray—lightly scrambled eggs, avocado toast, a blood orange sliced like art.
He sipped his tea, eyes still sharp behind the surface calm.
“So,” he said eventually, “you’re still on schedule for departure, Allen?”
Allen nodded. “Three days. Leaving after this.”
Jordan raised a brow. “I thought it was five.”
“Change of plans.”
Jordan didn’t push. He just nodded, then glanced at Emma. “And you?”
Emma gave a sweet smile. “Trying not to strangle anyone this week. My study is killing me.”
“Good goal.”
Allen finished his toast and leaned back slightly. “I’ll forward my itinerary. The jet’s set. I’ve arranged minimal stops. I’ll be back before Monday.”
Jordan studied him. He only sipped his tea again and said, “Just don’t bring back a body.”
Emma snorted into her berries. “Yet.”
Jordan’s lips twitched. Barely. “At least wait until she tries something first.”
Allen didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.