Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 882: Maia shifted one foot back and swept her eyes across the crowd. "Listen to me. Don't panic. He did set a few bombs in the building, but they've already been dealt with. And the bomb he's carrying? That isn't real." Though she didn't raise her voice, it rang with unwavering certainty. "How... how is that even possible..." someone whispered, slowly lifting their head. Their eyes searched the scene, stunned by the absurd truth. One by one, people began to rise-cautious, confused. Their gazes flicked from Maia to Vince, who had fallen to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut.

The silence returned, heavy and strange, broken only by the faint, repetitive clicking. Vince's movements started to falter. His skin turned pale. The controller in his grip had become useless. He sank completely, no strength left to pretend. With a strained breath, he lifted his gaze and said, "How-how did you figure it out?" At last, the crowd released the breath they'd been holding, and the silence broke into a storm of gasps and cries. Tired eyes stared up at her. Vince looked at Maia as if she were right there and still unreachable. Standing tall, Maia stared down at him.

Her expression was steady, untouched by mercy. What she'd done earlier wasn't just luck. She had made a bold guess about the bomb being fake and took the time to confirm it carefully. As it turned out, she was right; Vince was bluffing. The bomb on him would never explode. His reasons were clear enough. He kept a gap between them-not only to protect the controller, but because, deep down, he knew she might notice that something was wrong with these detonators if she got too close. "Old patterns are hard to break," as the saying goes.

And Maia had said it before: whatever she and Vince once had, it was long gone. Ⲟⲛ : g⍶ν⦚ⅽ So Maia refused to let Vince shake her, either emotionally or logically. "You lost this battle long before today, Vince. It's over. Turn yourself in." Maia's voice remained calm as she cast a glance at Chris. There was reassurance in her tone, a gentle steadiness that followed as she added, "Chris, everything's fine now; the danger has passed." Chris blinked, caught off guard for a moment, then gave her a firm nod.

Without another word, he pulled out his phone and quietly said to Maxwell, "Stand down." On the other end, Maxwell finally exhaled the breath he'd been holding. It was hard to accept, but once again, Maia had pulled off something no one saw coming. Vince's grip faltered. His hand dropped, and the controller clattered to the floor with a dull thud. It was as if Maia's voice never reached him. His lips kept moving, lost in his own world. "I ordered the real thing, real wires, real triggers. Everything looked perfect on the outside.

All the circuits were in place, the layout was solid, convincing enough. The only thing I did was take the explosive out of the detonator, just as a precaution. No one else knew that. No one but me." Vince's voice slipped into a quiet murmur, sounding as if he were piecing together his own downfall or maybe offering Maia one last explanation, a final parting word. . . .