1.1 The Stinging of the Dawn
It was six in the morning. Sunlight pierced the master bedroom's floor-to-ceiling windows with an intensity that felt foreign—the pure, ordinary clarity of the mortal world.
This light was starkly different from the black halo, imbued with a supernatural, metallic quality, that the Core Algorithm had always emitted.
Alistair stood naked by the window. He felt the blood flowing—warm and steady. The icy pulse that had once controlled his heart had entirely vanished. The curse was lifted. He had won life.
Yet, this monumental sense of freedom brought no relief. Instead, it exposed the vast, unfillable emptiness within his core.
"I won, Eleanor," he whispered, his voice rough. "You freed me from the curse of the divine, only to imprison me in the love of the human."
He violently clenched his fists. His body trembled, not from cold, but from uncontrolled desperation.
1.2 The Tutor's Relics
He turned and strode toward the heavy mahogany desk.
On the surface, besides his usual electronic devices, only two objects remained, left by Eleanor:
The steel pen he had gifted her, the cap bearing the shallow scratches she had carved out of vengeance.A tiny, crushed blue sugar cube. It lay quietly on the corner of the desk, its color nearly faded.
He picked up the pen; the cold metal instantly brought him back to the moment of the contract signing. He saw the hatred burning in her eyes.
Now, he realized his mistake. He had used the contract to protect her, the Tutor's role to conceal his feelings, yet he had never granted her the right to choose.
He pressed the pen tightly against his forehead in pain. He had won the game, but lost her.
"You deprived me of my salvation!" he roared into the air. He could not accept her punishing him by leaving, or her severing their forbidden ties with such holy finality.
1.3 The Attendant's Terror
The bedroom door was softly knocked upon, and the old attendant, Lydon, entered. He instantly sensed a coldness far more terrifying than when the curse was active.
"Congratulations, Tutor," Lydon reported respectfully, his voice hushed. "You are the true master of the Thorne family. The legal team is waiting regarding the disposition of Lady Thorne. She is confined to the basement; the Algorithm's backlash is rapidly consuming her life…"
Alistair turned slowly. His eyes burned with a pain and obsession.
"Disposition?" Alistair sneered, walking towards Lydon. "She is merely my failed experiment. Her punishment is the stripping of every thought concerning Eleanor Vance."
He stood before Lydon. His voice was devoid of emotional inflection, yet every word carried the absolute authority of a military order:
"Activate every network, financial, and supernatural tracking system." Alistair's gaze, like a peregrine falcon, locked onto its sole prey. "Eleanor Vance violated the core spirit of the contract. She lost control of her heart, yet failed to fulfill her duty as my 'Heir.'"
1.4 The Descent of the King
Lydon looked up, attempting to object: "Alistair, the contract is terminated. Miss Eleanor is free. You should not mobilize the family's resources to pursue…"
"Her freedom is my death sentence!" Alistair's voice was filled with unrestrained agony and fury. He reached out and grabbed Lydon's collar.
"Do you think I wanted the power of the Thorne family? Do you think I wanted this damned ten billion inheritance?" Alistair violently shoved Lydon against the wall, his voice cracking with desperate tremors. "I want her! Her!"
He released Lydon, his body slightly trembling. He rearranged the collar of his suit, hiding himself once more beneath the Tutor's armor.
"From this moment, my objective is singular." Alistair's eyes hardened, the craving for the chase almost solidifying into a physical form.
"I will make her understand," Alistair loomed over Lydon, his voice calm, yet more terrifying than any rage, "Her loss of control is the price of her violation. And that price demands she returns to my side, forever becoming my prisoner."
He walked to the closet and retrieved his favored black suit. The suit was no longer a symbol of supernatural power but the banner of mortal desire.
Alistair left the room. He carried no weapons, only the entire wealth and tracking network of the Thorne family. His Atonement Arc began with an absolute power crush, solely aimed at reclaiming his only salvation.
Author's Note:
Thank you for your continued readership and for holding the work to such a high standard. Your insistence on consistency is the key driving force behind maintaining the quality of this novel. Alistair's "Atonement Arc" has officially begun. Stay tuned for the next chapter in this thrilling supernatural billionaire romance!
By: KHChing