At this point, all Solivair could do—all he had left—was to admit his guilt and beg for mercy. Drake said nothing. He took slow, deliberate drags from his cigarette, eyes distant, gaze unfocused—lost in thought, or perhaps not even bothering to think about Solivair at all. That silence made Solivair panic even more. He crawled closer on his knees, dignity long forgotten. Circling around the desk, he threw his arms around Drake’s leg, his voice trembling with desperation. “Governor, I’m begging you—please spare me! I swear I’ve learned my lesson. You can punish me however you like, just please… don’t kill me…” As he spoke, he continued to slam his forehead to the floor, smearing blood across Drake’s pant leg. Those others should count themselves lucky—they hadn’t officially joined Heaven’s Cult. Only someone like Solivair, who had spent years inside, knew exactly what would’ve awaited them if they had. If they’d already been members? They wouldn’t have been allowed to leave Heaven Island alive. Drake finally glanced down at Solivair. When he saw the bloodstain on his pants, he raised his leg with a look of disgust. Then—without warning—he kicked. Hard. Solivair flew backward and slammed into the wall. The bruised wound on his backside, which had just begun to heal, tore open again, soaking his pants in fresh blood. But he didn’t care. He scrambled upright and immediately began crawling back toward Drake on his knees. Drake shot him a cold, cutting look. The moment their eyes met, Solivair froze. He didn’t dare move a single inch closer. Didn’t dare utter another word.Even though his heart screamed with fear—even though every cell in his body wanted to beg—he knew better than to speak. Drake didn’t say a word either. He simply smoked. Solivair’s heart pounded with dread, his mind in turmoil. The silence in that room stretched on, each second dragging like an eternity. He had never felt time move so slowly. Arthur and Ashley stood silently to the side, making no move to interfere. Finally—after what felt like centuries—Drake stubbed out his cigarette. Solivair’s heart jumped to his throat. He was waiting… and the longer he waited, the deeper his terror grew. Blood streamed down his face, but he made no move to wipe it. His whole body trembled. His knees, scraped raw from being kicked, left bloody trails on the floor, but he didn’t even feel it. His fear had overwhelmed every ounce of pain. At last, Drake spoke. He exhaled one final puff of smoke and said, coolly: “Solivair, Heaven’s Cult isn’t the place for you. Leave.” Boom. The words struck Solivair like a bolt of lightning. He looked up, stunned. Disbelief contorted his features. His voice shook. “Gov—Governor, please—I truly understand now. Please give me a chance to redeem myself! I’m willing to give up everything!” He slammed his forehead to the floor again, the crack echoing like a drumbeat. Even Arthur winced at the sound. And still—Drake’s face didn’t waver. Not a flicker of emotion.He spoke again, voice as cold as before. “Solivair. You know how I operate.” That stopped Solivair cold. Drake’s way. Uncompromising. Final. Solivair knew better than anyone. All hope left him. He slumped to the ground, no longer daring to plead. Even though he hadn’t yet left the island, he could already see what awaited him beyond it. Without Heaven’s Cult behind him, the Tremo family’s standing in Lioran would collapse. Their economic and political influence would be swallowed up by whoever Heaven’s Cult chose to replace him. Lioran was a major nation. Heaven’s Cult would certainly recruit a new representative there—a new foothold. And that new member would quickly overtake the Tremo family as the dominant power in Lioran. Once word spread that he was no longer a member of Heaven’s Cult, his business partners would cut ties with lightning speed. No major corporation would dare associate with someone who had been expelled. It was brutal, but it was reality. Had he never joined Heaven’s Cult to begin with, the Tremo family could’ve remained like the rest of the old-money elite—still immensely wealthy, still deeply rooted. Maybe not always at the top, but still powerful. But now? He wasn’t just Solivair, the head of the Tremo family. He was Solivair—the man Heaven’s Cult had cast out. That stain wouldn’t fade. And it would destroy both him… and everything his family had built.