CHAPTER 171: BLOOD DOESN'T ALWAYS BOND
Jared managed to pull himself to his feet, unsteady but burning with fury.
Daryl grinned. "Jared… I'm your older, long-lost half-brother."
Jared glared at him as he scoffed. The guts of the man answering both his name and his estranged father's name in one sentence.
"Oh come on," Daryl said, throwing his hands up like it was a joke. "You should be happy, bro. You found a brother you never knew you lost."
"You mean… a brother I knew nothing about?" Jared spat, steadying himself with each breath. "What kind of twisted joke is this?"
James had the grace to smirk at that moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Jared faced Daryl squarely. "And how do I even know you're not just some wannabe, pretending to have the Hutchkins name?"
Daryl let out a dramatic sigh and leaned in slightly. "Oh Jared, look closely. The resemblance is uncanny, unlike some bastard son we're both painfully aware of."
His eyes slid to James.
"James has never been your real brother. In fact, he never was."
Jared's fists clenched. He was this close to punching Daryl in the face, but his body still ached from the blast of cold earlier. He forced himself to calm down, just enough to speak.
Jerry, still bitter from the near-death experience, stepped forward. "If you're really his brother, then why try to kill him? You nearly wiped us all out."
"Kill him?" Daryl repeated, eyes wide like the idea was ridiculous. "What? No, no, no. I wasn't going to kill him."
He grinned darkly.
"I just wanted to teach James a little lesson. You know… a warm welcome. Or should I say, cold one?"
He turned to James slowly, smile fading into something darker.
"You see, James… I'm not here for games. I came to pass a message."
His voice dropped, deadly quiet.
"I'm coming for you."
A hush swept the room.
"You. Everything you love. Everything you've built. Everything you've ever touched will start to revolve around the world the same way you made it spin for yourself. You won't see it coming, James. But you'll feel it."
His lips curved into a slow, spine-chilling smile.
"Consider this war… declared. I mean you did ask me what i wanted right, well, this is it"
James took a slow, deliberate step forward, his voice calm, but every word he spoke hit like a silent slap.
"So let me guess," he said, eyes never leaving Daryl. "Harold had a secret weapon stashed away all these years. A boy he's been training in the shadows to be like me."
He chuckled once, low and cold.
"Which means you too, Daryl, are just another one of my lackeys. A knockoff. A replica. Another second-rate version of what he could never control."
James watched as his countenance changed continuously.
"My world practically revolves around you," James finished with a smirk.
The meaning behind his words wasn't lost on anyone. It was payback, a clean strike for what Daryl had said to Jared earlier. And from the way Daryl clenched and unclenched his jaw, it hit home.
James took one more step forward.
"Don't you see it?" he said, his tone deceptively gentle. "Your so-called father created you because he fears me. You were born to counter me. That's all you are, a weapon. A second-hand product. A rushed project meant to mirror me."
His voice dropped.
"You're not even worth the sole of my shoe."
Daryl's nostrils flared. He laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Oh James, James, James," he drawled mockingly, his sneer returning. "So that's your plan? You want to turn me against my father? That won't work, brother," he spat the last word like poison.
James tilted his head, cool and unreadable. "Far be it from me to do that. I'm a gentleman by nature," he added smoothly.
Daryl scoffed loudly. He was shaking now, not from fear, but from the weight of his own anger boiling over.
James smiled faintly. "Look in the mirror, Daryl. Read between the lines. Sooner or later, you'll figure it all out on your own. No help needed."
Daryl didn't respond immediately. His eyes flashed with something unreadable. Then, slowly, deliberately, he exhaled.
"Well, a little something for you too, James," he said darkly. "What you saw today? That's nothing. A warm-up. Barely the beginning. I have barely scratched the surface of my powers."
He paused, stepping backward slowly.
"What did you call it, a second-hand, knock-off — maybe. Wait till you see the rest of what I can do. And my favorite part?" His grin widened like he was tasting the moment—"Wait till you meet the one I'm working with."
James narrowed his eyes.
Daryl's voice dropped to a whisper, but it rang through the hall like thunder.
"I can't wait, bro. Let my revenge begin."
And with that… he turned and walked out of the hall. No look back. No farewell.
Just silence.
Heavy. Loud. Deafening Silence.
The room was frozen in thought, thick with unspoken questions:
Who the hell was Daryl?
Where had he come from?
How did he have powers?
And most importantly…
Who was he working with?
The storm had passed, but no one felt safe.
Because now, everyone knew the truth.
This wasn't over.
It had only just begun.
As Daryl exited the room, the suffocating chill slowly faded. The air shifted. It was like the room finally remembered how to breathe.
James turned to Jared. "Call the others back."
Jared nodded and stepped away.
A few minutes later, the doors to the alternate hall creaked open again and in came Diana, her heels clicking softly against the marble, flanked by her girls. The guests filtered in behind them, whispering among themselves, eyes darting anxiously toward James.
Diana's gaze went straight to him.
He looked okay but the tightness in his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders, told her everything.
She walked to him slowly, her hands trembling slightly.
"What happened?" she whispered.
James looked down at her, tired but still composed. "A ghost from the past showed up… and declared war."
Her lips parted, but before she could speak, Raymond stepped forward. "It's better we talk about the rest later. Not here."
The guests, now fully back inside the main hall, stood silently, some still shaken, others confused, but all thoroughly aware that something far bigger than a party had just taken place.
Toby Champion looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.
The show was over. But the storm? It was still rumbling.