Building The Strongest Family
Chapter 142: The Last Night

Three Days Later - February 5, 2026

Christopher Campbell's office was nothing short of a monument to generational wealth. With floor-to-ceiling windows framing the bustling Neo-Luminara's Diamond District, it was a view that could make anyone feel invincible.

But his desk,a hefty slab of black marble imported from the Venusian colonies,was strewn with half-empty liquor glasses, a testament to his inner turmoil.

Slumped in his leather chair, Christopher drummed his fingers nervously against the armrest.

The call was coming. And honestly? He wasn't ready for it.

Without warning, the holoscreen flickered to life, illuminating the Campbell family crest: a golden lion crushing a silver rose beneath its paw.

He quickly straightened his silk tie before accepting the call.

"Finally decided to answer, little brother?" Kingston Campbell's face appeared on screen, perfectly composed yet radiating mild disdain.

At twenty-eight, he carried himself like royalty,sharp cheekbones and icy blue eyes that made him look more like a corporate assassin than a businessman.

Christopher forced a smile. "I was just going over the Osborn acquisition files."

Kingston's lip curled in amusement. "Still stuck on that? Father's losing patience."

A vein pulsed in Christopher's temple as frustration bubbled within him. "It's not as simple as…"

"Of course it is," Kingston interrupted smoothly. "The Osborns are bankrupt; their patriarch is dead. That land should have been ours months ago."

Christopher tightened his grip on his whiskey glass, feeling the burn of indignation rise within him. "Arthur Osborn isn't some pushover executive you can intimidate with lawsuits and threats, the man has teeth!"

Kingston laughed,a sharp sound devoid of humor. "He's just a gutter rat who got lucky! If you hadn't bungled the zoning permits…"

"That wasn't my fault!" Christopher snapped, voice cracking under pressure. "The city council and Urban Development Bureau…"

"…are full of people who respect power," Kingston cut in coldly. "Which you clearly haven't demonstrated."

Fuming, Christopher took an angry gulp of wine; its burn did little to soothe his pride.

"You don't understand what it's like dealing with Arthur directly," he shot back fiercely. "The man is like a ghost!

Every time we try to pressure him or find ways around him, he's always three steps ahead! The last team sent after him came back with third-degree burns!"

Kingston examined his impeccably manicured nails with disinterest. "How dramatic! Maybe if you spent less time at Golden Lotus clubs and more time actually working…"

"Go to hell."

A heavy silence fell over the office.

Kingston's gaze turned glacial as he leaned closer into the screen. "Careful, Christopher, you're not irreplaceable."

That threat hung between them like thick fog.

Christopher's mind raced with a whirlwind of memories.

He could still feel the weight of his father's disappointed glare from last year's family meeting, a moment that replayed in his head like a haunting echo.

The mocking glances from family members stung, whispers at gatherings that cut deeper than any knife: "Kingston would have closed the deal by now."

Even the household staff treated him like he was second best, a shadow to his brother's brilliance.

He set his glass down with deliberate calm, though inside, turmoil brewed. "Give me two more weeks," he insisted, desperation creeping into his voice.

Kingston sighed heavily. "One. And if you fail…"

"I won't!" Christopher shot back defiantly.

The hologram flickered out, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He stared at his reflection in the window,the slightly too-soft jawline that made him look younger than Kingston and the golden hair that never seemed to stay perfectly styled like his brother's.

Frustration boiled over as he slammed his fist into the desk.

"Goddamn it!" he shouted, sending a crystal decanter crashing against the wall.

It shattered spectacularly, scattering diamond-like shards across the marble floor, a fitting metaphor for his crumbling resolve.

He'd show them all! Arthur Osborn would regret ever crossing a Campbell.

As Christopher stormed toward his private elevator, he didn't notice:

The security feed glitching for exactly 1.2 seconds.

The shadow that moved independently of the city lights outside.The faint scent of jasmine that didn't belong in his office.

Unbeknownst to him, Raven watched from her hidden perch in the ventilation shaft, her golden eye tracking every move he made.

--------

As the sun dipped below the distant horizon, surrendering the sky to a silvery moon surrounded by twinkling stars, Christopher stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office.

The city below was bathed in a soft, white glow, but inside, tension crackled like static in the air.

A glass of whiskey clutched tightly in his hand, he watched as a storm brewed both outside and within.

He had spent hours poring over acquisition files, numbers blurring together like a chaotic puzzle,but one truth remained painfully clear: Arthur Osborn had outmaneuvered him at every turn.

Zoning permits? Slipped away. Legal injunctions? Dodged with ease. Even the construction crews seemed to have vanished from his grasp.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed insistently on the desk, a message from Julian:

[Status update? Father is asking.]

Christopher's grip tightened around his glass as frustration bubbled within him.

He typed back sharply:[Tell Father I have it handled.]

But deep down, he knew that wasn't entirely true. Yet tomorrow would be different; tomorrow he would take matters into his own hands.

Those who useless people he have always

returned empty-handed, or worse, some don't even return at all.

He poured himself another drink,the amber liquid glinted like liquid gold,and downed it in one burning swallow, savoring the warmth spreading through him.

Arthur Osborn, a nobody who had somehow clawed his way up far enough to spit in the face of the illustrious Campbell dynasty.

With a sudden slam, he set down his glass, its echo reverberating through the otherwise empty office. No more games; tomorrow marked a turning point.

Just then, the lights flickered ominously overhead. "What now?" Christopher muttered under his breath as confusion washed over him, his state-of-the-art office shouldn't be experiencing power outages!

In an instant, emergency lighting cast dim red shadows across the walls, making them appear alive with jagged shapes that danced menacingly.

His heart raced as adrenaline surged through him.

"Security!" he barked into his phone while dialing furiously. "Report!"

Static met his ears before a voice sliced through it, smooth and chilling as polished steel:"They can't hear you."

Christopher whirled around to find her, a figure emerging from the shadows clad in a sleek black combat suit with a golden cyber-eye glowing faintly in the dark.

Raven.

His breath caught; everyone in high society knew her name, the ghost of the Eastern Consortium.

Instinctively, he reached for the pistol hidden in his desk drawer.

"Don't," she warned softly but firmly; there was no need for raised voices here.

Christopher froze under her gaze and forced himself to speak steadily despite rising panic. "What do you want? I have no dealings with your Eastern Consortium..."

Raven stepped forward, her movements as fluid as water.

The emergency lights flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow on the monofilament wire coiled around her fingers.

Christopher's throat tightened, a mix of fear and confusion swirling within him. "Then why?" he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Raven tilted her head slightly, her cyber-eye whirring to life as it focused on him. "Why what? Don't you realize what you've done?!"

"What did I do?!" Christopher's eyes widened with bewilderment.

"Go ask the king of hell!" she shot back, venom lacing her words.

In that fleeting moment, Christopher had time for one last thought: Kingston was right. I should have been better.

Then, with a swift motion, the wire snapped taut, an unforgiving end to his fate. Just like that, the Campbell Family lost its weakest heir.

Raven stepped over his lifeless body, her expression inscrutable.

She plucked a half-empty glass of wine from the desk and held it up for a moment, contemplating its contents before placing it back down next to several documents scattered across the surface.

With that final act completed, she vanished from the office.

The last sound echoing in her ears was Christopher's phone buzzing insistently, a call from Kingston demanding an update.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.