Back when Finley kidnapped Mr. Hugo, he was already terrified. It had all been a moment of blind impulse—liquid courage fueled by alcohol. But now, with things spiraling out of control, this was a consequence Finley had never expected. At the hospital. Outside the emergency room. Arthur and Ashley stood pale-faced, anxiously awaiting the doctors’ verdict. The moment they got in the car, Wind had contacted the hospital. The ambulance had intercepted them midway to take the four away. It was the fastest emergency response they could manage. Even though they were immediately put on ventilators, the doctors still said the situation was critical. The top specialist in this field was already on the way, and they had been conducting a long-distance video consultation to guide the treatment. Even with the best expert, the odds of success were only about thirty percent. The poison they had inhaled had already entered the bloodstream and spread throughout their bodies. Whether they would wake up, or when—they simply couldn’t say. That chemical explosion had happened the night before, right after Finley had interrogated them. Finley had already left by then. He heard the explosion but looked back, saw no fire, and didn’t pay attention. He never imagined that within a single day, they would already be poisoned—and this badly. Finley couldn’t imagine what would happen if they actually died. His hand was still bleeding. He still clutched the severed finger tightly in his hand. But in the hospital, where everyone was working nonstop to save the four, even if he begged, no one dared to treat him. Arthur had Finley pinned down right outside the emergency room. He didn’t hold back. He pointed at the doors of the emergency ward and said with chilling calm, “If they don’t come out alive… you’re not walking out of here alive either.” His voice wasn’t loud, but to Finley, it felt like death itself had spoken.Finley shivered. For the second time, he felt that overwhelming, hellish aura from Arthur—the kind that crawled straight out of the underworld. He was truly afraid. He had acted recklessly, consumed by his own selfish desire. Back then, when he asked Mr. Hugo and Principal Mateo where Arthur had gone, they completely ignored him. Their dismissive attitude had infuriated him. Ever since that welcome banquet, they had treated him coldly. That day, Finley had really lost his temper. In a fit of rage, he had them kidnapped. Spencer and Nancy were one thing—they were lower in status, and he figured he could handle them. But Hugo and Mateo? They were way out of his league. Hugo had originally stationed people around the school, ready to move in at any moment to rescue Arthur. That was exactly what gave Finley an opening. Truth be told, the moment he kidnapped Hugo and the principal, Finley regretted it. But it was already too late. He couldn’t let them go. Not without his father there. If he did, he’d be finished. So Finley decided to wait for Solivair’s return before making any moves. Solivair had vanished like this before. No one ever knew where he went, but every time, he would come back within two months. But instead of waiting for Solivair—Arthur came back first. And what shocked Finley most of all was that Arthur seemed like a completely different person, with unimaginable power behind him. His severed finger had only been loosely bandaged with some cloth to stop the bleeding.He was in the hospital, suffering from a serious injury, and yet no one would treat him. He was panicking, desperate. But the bodyguards standing around him looked strong and deadly. Even if a doctor wanted to help, they were too scared to step in. Just as Finley was sinking into despair, someone walked down the hallway. Solivair. The moment Finley saw him, it was like seeing a savior. His eyes lit up. Before anyone else could react, Finley struggled to his feet and shouted with all his might. “Dad! Dad! Help me! Save me!” Arthur didn’t stop him. He just stared coldly at Solivair. Solivair spotted Arthur—and beside him, Wind. Wind, Falls’s personal guard. Solivair knew exactly who he was. He ignored the wailing Finley and walked straight toward Wind. He had seen the blood on Finley’s hand and clothes, but in his eyes, that was nothing. Compared to Wind—personal bodyguard of the Heaven's Cult’s president—Finley was utterly insignificant. Solivair had many sons. If he lost Finley, he had plenty of others who were just as good. But meeting Wind? That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Wind had the same cold temperament as Falls. Solivair had only met him once or twice before. He had come chasing the news that Wind and armed men had appeared at the gates of Governance University.