His Ex-Wife Is A Billionaire (Evadne and Thaddeus) novel Chapter 1196

Thaddeus moved with astonishing speed, taking the stairs two or three at a time. Gordon had to jog to keep up.

As they reached the living room, Thaddeus saw Chad sitting alone in his wheelchair, poised and waiting. Their eyes met across the room, the tension palpable.

"Leaving so late, Thaddeus?" Chad asked, a faint smile on his lips.

Gordon hated him—hated his condescending, self-righteous act. He felt a burning urge to rush forward and kick the wheelchair over.

"Still awake so late?" Thaddeus retorted, his gaze cold. "It seems your half-crippled body can handle late nights quite well."

"You seem to be in a hurry, Thaddeus. Is something wrong? Do you need my help?" Chad ignored the jab, his smile unwavering.

"It's none of your business."

With that, Thaddeus strode past him like a gust of wind.

"Thaddeus, there are so many people, so many things that have nothing to do with you. Why do you insist on getting involved and causing trouble for yourself?" Chad's dark eyes followed him, the usual warmth gone, replaced by a cold, predatory glint—ruthless and cruel.

Thaddeus stopped short, a chill running down his spine. His dear brother never wasted a word. He could stir up chaos with a smile, unleash a storm without raising his voice. The man looked pristine from head to toe, but Thaddeus knew that beneath that elegant, false veneer was a rotting core, a soul devoured by filth and maggots.

Thaddeus narrowed his eyes, turned, and walked back to his brother.

*CRASH!*

Without warning, Thaddeus kicked the base of the wheelchair.

Chad's body lurched. He gripped the armrests tightly to keep from falling, but the effort left him looking flustered and pathetic.

Gordon cheered silently. *Serves him right!*

"I don't discriminate against the disabled, but I have no respect for someone who pretends to be crippled for sympathy." Thaddeus leaned in, his tall frame looming over his brother. He stared into Chad's pale face, his eyebrows raised in arrogant disdain. "Mr. Abernathy, if you are truly disabled, I wish you a speedy recovery. But if you're faking it, then I hope you spend the rest of your life in that chair."

The black-clad assassins parted to let Alexia, draped in a luxurious white fur coat, walk through. Wary of soiling her expensive boots, she kept her distance.

"I knew a bitch like you would be up to something," Alexia sneered, looking down at the dying Elsie as if she were an insect. "Avery's downfall was his sentimentality. He should have put a bullet in you when The Velvet Haven fell. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble."

Elsie's face was so pale it nearly blended with the snow. She shakily scooped up a handful of snow, the biting cold a desperate anchor to consciousness.

"That man was both pathetic and pitiful. He spent his life obsessed with Evadne, and when he couldn't have her, he settled for a cheap imitation like you." Alexia kicked a small stone toward Elsie, her eyes filled with loathing. "I'd love to send you down to join him right now. He died so unceremoniously; the least I can do is offer a sacrifice in memory of our time as colleagues."

"Then do it… stop wasting your breath!" Elsie gasped, using all her remaining strength to shout.

"You want a quick death? I'm not going to give you that satisfaction." Alexia leaned down, the glint in her eyes like the flicker of a snake's tongue. "Elsie, if you want to blame someone, blame yourself for siding with that whore Evadne. She is the person I hate most in this world. You crossed a line."

"Who… are you?" Elsie managed, her eyelids heavy as she exhaled a cloud of white mist.

Alexia ignored her question and gave a chilling order. "Someone, search her."