Since the last time Arabella had spoken with him, Ferdinand had been uneasy.
Arabella was always very cautious and low-profile in her actions.
But this time, her actions had reached his ears, even from such a distance.
From across the sea, in four countries, he heard that she had killed the leader of the Destiny, Quentin, and single-handedly brought down the organization.
Though it made her famous, it was completely contrary to her usual style.
He couldn't immediately understand how Quentin had offended Arabella.
However, this move put Arabella at a disadvantage from the very beginning, causing her plans to falter.
Even if she could turn the situation around in the future, she would still face many dangers.
He sat restlessly in Spanka, agonizing for a long time before finally deciding to go find Arabella.
Before leaving, he repeatedly pondered how to deal with the weapons he had left for Arabella.
He knew these goods were crucial to Arabella, and he couldn't trust anyone else to handle them.
After much thought, he came up with a place.
It was a secret place that only he and Arabella knew about, desolate and uninhabited.
He sent people to deliver the goods there, then immediately poisoned all the deliverymen to ensure the weapons' storage site was completely secure.
Then he selected a group of skilled men, planning to go help Arabella.
Whether he was overly worried or not, this time, he wanted to stand by Arabella's side and accompany her.
Whether as a friend or a lover, he wanted to show Arabella through action.
He was someone she could trust.
*
The next morning, Julius woke up with a headache from his hangover, propping his head in a sunny room.
"Awake? Let's go, we're meeting your parents."
Arabella stood with her back to the light, a halo glowing behind her. She smiled gently, gazing at herself with a soft, serene look.
In that moment, Julius thought it was forever.
After breakfast, Julius dressed with care, donning a custom-tailored white suit that fit him perfectly, radiating a fresh and elegant aura. His smile was full of youthful energy, and he moved with the grace of a refined young gentleman.
Arabella remained as low-key as ever, though she also wore white, her attire as pure as snow, which would stand out if stained with blood.
The Montclair in Pujivang had a century-old legacy. Their ancestral home was located in a picturesque countryside estate, heavily guarded, with rows of security standing from the entrance all the way to the inner villa.
The families, having received the news, had been waiting at the door early. Upon seeing Arabella, Mrs. Montclair nodded approvingly.
Though Julius had previously said that Arabella wasn't from a wealthy family, with both her parents deceased and only two older brothers raising her.
But now, seeing the grandeur and status of the Montclair, even a typical noble young lady would show some hesitation.
However, Arabella was completely unaffected.
She walked beside Julius, calm and composed, not turning her head to look around. Her steps were light yet steady, and her gaze was peaceful and serene— a rare display of poise and steadiness.
She didn't show a hint of the impulsiveness typical of young girls.
What a good girl!
Mrs. Montclair liked her when she saw, and the Montclair's siblings also thought the girl was quite good.
Although the young woman was not strikingly beautiful, her features were well-proportioned, with her eyes gently curved and her lips holding a soft, smiling expression.
She and Julius were truly a perfect match.
Only Mr. Montclair turned pale when he saw Arabella, but he quickly forced a smile and tried to compose himself.
Arabella exchanged a glance with Mr. Montclair, and he involuntarily trembled. Lowering his gaze, he dared not make eye contact with her.
Arabella didn't think much of it. As the governor, Mr. Montclair had probably signed the arrest warrant for her at the police station, so it was perfectly normal for him to recognize her.
*
Arabella was warmly welcomed by the Montclair.
Mrs. Montclair held her hand, beaming with joy. The more she looked at her, the more she felt that this daughter-in-law was elegant and graceful, wishing she could marry them off right away.
While Mrs. Montclair was filled with joy, Mr. Montclair was nervously watching, his heart pounding with anxiety.
When he first heard his son mention that his partner's name was Arabella, he had some doubts.
But then, upon further thought, he felt he had been overly concerned.
His youngest son had spent more than twenty years immersed in books, particularly proficient in physics and chemistry. He was also well-versed in astronomy, geography, art, and had a deep understanding of painting and theatrical performances.
He was an excellent young man, but unfortunately, all his thoughts were consumed by books, making him rigid and excessively conservative in his approach to life.
A bookworm like him had no comparison to that notorious female gangster known internationally.
The world was so vast, and it wasn't uncommon for people to share the same name.
But when he met her today, his hair stood on end, and the more he thought about it, the more he felt his family was doomed.
To be targeted by a woman like her, the price his family would have to pay to save their youngest son was almost unimaginable.
It was a pity for his son, who offered his heart in good faith, only to have it fall into the jaws of a tiger.
While chatting, Arabella kept a close watch on Mr. Montclair's expressions.
She had already surveyed her surroundings when entering the manor. Aside from the normal security forces on guard within the estate, there were no extra personnel present.
Raven didn't send any signals either. Checking the time, it was almost time for the meeting with Taras to hand over the goods.
Everything was calm, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
But Arabella was not one to easily dismiss her suspicions. Last night, she stood alone in the wind, considering many possibilities, and the worst of them was that even Raven could not be trusted.
If even Raven was untrustworthy, her escape would only be possible by using the lives of the entire Montclair.
Julius had been delivered into her hands, possibly by fate, as a trial. Or perhaps it had been intentional, a bait to lure her in.
But since she had come, no matter how many traps were laid, she would tear through them all.
*
After sending his family away, Mr. Montclair led Arabella into the study.
Arabella appeared calm and composed, looking entirely at ease, as if she didn't care whether the study was a den of danger.
The study was just a study, but it had excellent soundproofing.
After locking the door, Mr. Montclair knelt down on the spot, immediately begging.
"Master Unknown, it was my son's recklessness. Please, have mercy and spare the Montclair. Whatever you ask, I will comply."
Arabella chose a high-end leather chair in the center of the room, spinning it casually a few times before smiling and asking, "Sir, you're too kind. Do you know why I'm here?"
What else could she be here for?
Aside from crime, she couldn't possibly be here to do charity.
Though he thought so, Mr. Montclair didn't dare to answer so bluntly. He shook his head, replying ambiguously, "Perhaps it's something inconvenient to discuss?"
Arabella nodded, glanced at the time. The transaction was already half-completed. If everything remained calm for a while longer, she probably wouldn't need to use the lives of the Montclair.
She thought back to the various moments when she met Julius.
She recalled the soft slippers she had scorned, the see-through swimsuit, the cloyingly sweet candy, the expression on her face when running toward her in the rain, and the look of grievance when she was drunk.
If he truly was an angel, then it was better to let him fly far away. She had broken the wings of one angel, and there was no need to risk another.
Arabella relaxed her brow slightly and began to speak, "If everything goes smoothly—"
Before she could finish her sentence, a black skull-shaped pattern suddenly appeared in the distant sky.
It was an emergency signal, one that only Raven would send.
Arabella's expression hardened, yet she remained perfectly still, until the alarm on her wrist began to sound, sharp and urgent.
The bright red light and the sharp, ear-piercing sound.
It was a gift she gave to Raven when he was eighteen, a token for his departure. She had once told him that if he ever found himself in a life-or-death situation, he should press the device, and she would save him.
All these years, Raven had never pressed it in the midst of gunfire, but today—he did!
Arabella's gaze darkened to its utmost depth. A smile still lingered on her lips, but inwardly, it had spread silently, much like the accumulation of a storm, quietly expanding in the depths of her heart.
She wasn't bloodthirsty, but they had forced her into a path of slaughter.
She looked at Mr. Montclair, who was kneeling in fear, and spoke softly, "Sir, I need to trouble you."
*
Arabella only took Mr. Montclair and his eldest son with her.
Julius had already been sent away to meet her so-called brother, who was supposed to arrive later.
Mrs. Montclair and daughter were not killed, but knocked unconscious and left in a room.
After all the servants had been sent away, Mr. Montclair sat in the front passenger seat of the car, which was being driven by Arabella.
In the back seat was the eldest son, his hands bound and unconscious.
At first, the journey went smoothly, as no one dared to stop the governor's vehicle.
But as they got closer to the location marked with black skull patterns, more and more checkpoints appeared.
Eventually, there were even special forces troops stationed at checkpoints, who were indifferent to anyone passing through.
Arabella watched coldly as Mr. Montclair, red-faced, scolded the officers for disregarding protocol and casually mobilizing the troops.
But the other party spoke with firm conviction, claiming that the Governor's decree had been issued earlier that morning, ordering all the capital's stationed military units to cooperate with the four-country police force in eliminating the marauding bandits.
When the phone rang from a checkpoint not far away, Arabella's eyes, sharp as an eagle's, locked onto the officer's lips, reading his words.
In the next instant, she sharply turned the steering wheel, accelerating like an arrow as she broke through the roadblock. Behind her, there was a flurry of shouts, followed by the deafening sound of heavy machine gunfire.
"What are you doing? Why did you break through the barricades?" Mr. Montclair felt confused—wasn't this exposing Arabella herself?
"Just now, I received a call with news from the governor's office. The governor's family of five—except for the youngest son—has been killed by the bandit Arabella."
Mr. Montclair, not immediately sensing something was wrong, instinctively replied, "What nonsense, I'm still alive—" But before he could finish, the strange governor's order came to mind, and he suddenly cried out in horror, "No! It's not possible!"
Arabella sped on, dodging the pursuers behind her while scanning the terrain. She raised an eyebrow, calmly stating a grim fact: "Sir, it's your youngest son who intends to kill you all. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do."
When the pursuers caught up to the car, it had already stopped. The people in the car were shouting, "I am the governor!"
The soldiers remained unmoved, holding their weapons at the ready, extremely cautious.
The highest-ranking officer waved his hand and ordered, "The acting governor has issued a command! Anyone working with the bandit Arabella is to be killed without mercy! Fire!"
After a barrage of intense gunfire, two men in the car were shot dead. The driver's whereabouts remained unknown.
