Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 257: Tyrona’s Calculative Plan

–Livana–

That red dot pulsed on the screen like a slow, deliberate heartbeat. Tyrona had moved. Exactly as I expected.

I exhaled through my nose. Of course, they injured Lore. That man was built like a fortress—breaking him completely would require far more than her theatrics.

"Damn it," Jorge muttered, then laughed, genuinely amused. "Our son finally got kidnapped."

"Well," Yolanda added cheerfully, clapping her hands together before high-fiving her husband, "he has always wanted the full experience."

I glanced at them, incredulous and unsurprised all at once. Weren’t they worried? Perhaps once—years ago. But Lore had survived worse. He had grown up in this world, sharpened by it. If anything, this was a rite of passage he’d been itching to collect.

The convoy reached the secluded warehouse right on cue. Concrete, rust, isolation—the kind of place villains picked when they wanted to feel important. I already had Pawns stationed nearby, shadows within shadows. Their orders were simple: observe, confirm the captives’ safety, and wait. Tyrona’s grand performance was coming. And I intended to ruin it.

I called my husband. He answered immediately.

Across the network feeds, panic bloomed like spilled ink. The Blackwell residence buzzed with movement—my grandparents from Braxton preparing to leave, Laura and Damien racing over, staff scrambling. Chaos, carefully curated. Tyrona needed to believe we were unraveling.

Alyssa didn’t know, of course. Lore played his role well. Too well.

"I think Lore’s enjoying it," Jorge shrugged, watching the screens. "Even after taking a hit."

The elevator doors slid open. Louie stepped out, still immaculate in his suit, irritation written plainly across his face.

"Are we seriously celebrating?" he asked. "Your sister-in-law was kidnapped. She’s a girl."

"Lore is with her," I replied calmly. "If they touch her, they die."

That ended the debate.

"Now," I continued, already shifting pieces in my mind, "we move the babies. Tyrona doesn’t get leverage."

I sent the signal.

Choppers lifted into the air—quiet, efficient. If Tyrona got her hands on the children, we would bleed. I wouldn’t allow that.

I called Damon again.

"Choppers are en route. Prepare the babies. Choco comes with them—I want him as their guard nanny." I paused, softer. "I know it’s hard for Laura. But we can’t risk the heirs."

"Understood."

On the live feed, Damon personally packed Sky’s things—snacks first, toys second. He let Sky choose, patient and gentle, while his father handed him items like offerings. There were far more snacks than toys.

We laughed, tension cracking just enough to breathe.

"Essentials first," Louie commented dryly.

Downstairs, Laura instructed Damien with brisk urgency. The twins fussed. Choco stood ready, his small bag already prepared. They were painfully, heartbreakingly precious.

"Where are they going?" Grandpa Reagan asked.

"Somewhere untraceable," Damon answered evenly.

"Bye-bye!" Sky waved, bright and trusting, as grandparents and great-grandparents hugged him tight, pressing kisses into his hair as if imprinting love into his bones.

The chopper waited on the lawn, blades humming. Laura kissed the twins and Sky again and again, tears spilling freely. The twins cried too, overwhelmed. I pressed my fingers to my forehead. Jane wasn’t here. My girls were scattered. Mother was still airborne.

I called Laura.

"Get on," I said gently.

She nodded and boarded, securing the babies herself. Choco followed. The chopper lifted, carrying my heart with it.

Only then did I allow myself to look elsewhere.

I released trained birds—silent, precise. Through their eyes, I saw the warehouse. Lore and Alyssa were bound to a post atop a rough pallet, masked men circling like carrion. A harsh light flooded them.

Lore’s head rested on Alyssa’s lap, bandaged. Their hands were intertwined.

Of course they were.

He was injured, yes—but not badly. Knocked out. Bleeding controlled. Stubborn as ever, even unconscious.

I smiled faintly. He’d wake when he was ready.

Back in the family room, everyone watched the feeds. Damon issued orders with steady authority. They waited for the ransom call. No one ate. No one drank. Damien paced.

Everyone was worried.

Everyone—except my husband.

And me.

Because Tyrona believed she was directing the storm.

But storms, like empires, only move when I allow them to.

–Livana–

I rode the electric bike toward the other residence, the hum of its engine steady beneath me, grounding. The garage door lifted smoothly, and Commander White arrived at the same moment, pulling in with a quiet sedan. Laura stepped out first. I went straight to the backseat, unbuckling Zayvier’s safety belt with practiced hands.

"Mama!" Sky squirmed the instant he saw me.

I set Zayvier down and lifted my baby boy into my arms, showering his cheeks with kisses. He wrapped himself around me—arms tight around my neck, legs locked at my waist—his warmth anchoring me. I pressed my palm to the back of his head as we walked inside.

"I’m worried about Alyssa," Laura said softly.

"We’re handling it," I assured her.

Commander White followed with the children’s things, Choco padding in behind him with his backup. I placed Sky on the sofa and unshouldered Choco’s bag, laying out its contents with a smile—hairbrush, snacks, vitamins. I laughed quietly and kissed Choco’s head. His tail wagged furiously as he licked my cheek.

"Thank you, Choco," I murmured.

"Coco!" Sky climbed onto his back, delighted. I stood and patted Choco’s head before turning to the twins, who rushed into my arms.

"Laura," I said, taking her hands, steady and warm. "Let Louie take care of the company. My girls are in the field, and Jane is still recovering—"

She shook her head, resolute. "I may not be a good cook," she said, almost stubbornly, "but I know how to cook."

I chuckled and nodded. "Just take care of the kids," I told her gently. "And my little Sky."

"Of course." She hugged me again, tears spilling.

"Hey," I soothed, patting her back. "We’re safe here." I looked to Commander White.

"Let’s deploy more birds," he said.

I nodded. He exited through the back door toward the garden, where the dogs rested and were fed.

I led Laura to the children’s room. Everything was already prepared.

"Dada?" Sky tugged at my dress.

"Dada has to stay behind to get your Aunt Aly," I told him, kissing his forehead. "For now, stay with your Tita and your cousins. Be a good boy. Mommy has to work."

"Okay," he said, lifting his thumb solemnly.

When Commander White finished releasing the birds and feeding the dogs, I gently closed the playroom door and showed Laura the hidden passage to the underground tunnel that led to the other house.

"If anything happens," I explained calmly, "the playroom is the safest place. Go right. The electric bikes are always fully charged."

She nodded, understanding.

We returned upstairs. Laura spoke softly to the children, explaining that the passage was a secret. They listened—wide-eyed, serious. I helped wipe them down and dress them in pajamas. I kissed Sky goodnight as he lay in his car bed, drinking his milk, eyelids already heavy.

Laura had coaxed the twins to sleep.

"I need to go back and check a few things," I said.

She nodded without question.

I took one last look—relief settling deep in my chest. They were close. They were safe.

Downstairs, Commander White waited.

"Thank you for bringing them here safely," I said.

He bowed his head.

"Protect them. Rest when you can. I’ll head back."

"As you command."

I slipped into the secret passage, returned through the tunnel, and reached the command room. I sat at the Grandmaster table. The chess pieces were already in motion. California’s satellite needed recovery. Sophia and Kai were on their honeymoon, but family was still family—and trust mattered now more than comfort.

"Oh, poor guy," Louie muttered, watching the feed of his injured brother.

"At least he has a girl who cares for him," Yolanda said lightly—too lightly—like a mother reminding her eldest that the younger might marry first.

"Mom, please," Louie protested. "We’re being serious."

I laughed softly and moved my pieces. Mother was somewhere, biding her time—as always.

"Tyrona is already preparing for the wedding," Yolanda added. "She’ll stick to her original plan."

I nodded. "Good," I said, a smile curving slowly. "There’s nothing more satisfying than watching someone prepare their victory—only to crush it at the end."

Hours passed unnoticed. Then the elevator chimed. Commander White entered with a basket.

"Miss Laura made this for everyone," he announced.

Laura... cooked?

He set the food down—simple, practical. Tacos and tortilla chips with dip. No utensils needed.

"Wow," I murmured.

"Fancy burgers," Louie said, lifting one wrapped in wax paper.

I smiled, already moving the next piece.

I picked up the burger, the warmth of the fresh bun still lingering in my fingers. The beef patty was thick and perfectly seared—clearly handmade. I took a generous bite.

Wagyu.

I blinked, almost offended by my own disbelief. My sister knew how to make this? I never expected it. The meat was impossibly tender, rich without being heavy, the juices soaking into the bread. Everything tasted... right. Comforting. Grounding. The kind of food that reminded you that you were still human, even while moving armies across invisible maps.

It stirred my appetite—though not only mine. Around the table, the others ate in rare silence, nodding between bites, energy returning to their eyes. Plans flowed more smoothly, traps layered upon traps with sharper focus, as if the food itself sharpened our instincts.

I nodded along, chewing thoughtfully, then reached for the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. The citrus cut cleanly through the richness, bright and cold against my tongue.

My sister... she was more than helpful. She was balanced. Strength disguised as care.

We were stronger because of her.

So much so that, for a moment, we almost forgot why we were here at all.