51: After Chapter 51, my life belongs to you.

Brooklyn Heights, safe house.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the torrential rain lashed down like countless whips, making a crisp, muffled sound.

The room was filled with the mixed scent of medical alcohol and aged bourbon.

Chen Mo sat on the leather sofa, his upper body bare.

The wound on his left arm, which had been wrapped tightly in bandages, had been opened; although the bleeding had stopped under the control of the [Law of Silence], it still looked gruesome.

Old George had half a cigar dangling from his mouth, holding tweezers and medical thread in his hands, his movements as rough as if he were mending a torn sack.

"Bear with it, kid." George puffed out a cloud of smoke as the needle pierced the skin.

"To play the victim in front of that female agent, you certainly took that bullet realistically."

Chen Mo didn't say a word, only furrowed his brow.

For him, this bit of pain was like a mosquito bite.

His gaze drifted past George's shoulder and fell upon the woman huddled in the corner of the sofa.

Ava Rockefeller.

This heiress, usually holding her head high like a proud peacock, was currently wrapped in an ill-fitting men's blanket, clutching half a glass of whiskey tightly in her hand.

Her red evening gown was still stained with blood spatters from the waiter assassin the night before, which had dried into a dark brown, like some dirty rust.

"They really did it." Ava stared at the ice cubes in her glass, her voice hoarse, as if squeezed from deep within her throat.

"At the museum, in plain sight of everyone."

Chen Mo pushed George's hand away, grabbed a new bandage, and skillfully wrapped it himself.

"Last night was a good opportunity to clean house. It was chaotic, with many eyes around, and it would be easy to find a scapegoat to close the case."

"That is my family!" Ava lifted her head abruptly, her eyes rimmed with red, yet dry of tears.

"My father earned billions for the Rockefeller Family, and I acted like a dog doing their dirty work just to secure that damn inheritance. And what was the result? Three professional assassins."

She tilted her head back and downed the strong liquor in one gulp; the spicy liquid made her cough violently, but she didn't stop, instead laughing aloud, her laughter sharp and piercing.

"Just now, the so-called family trust committee sent me an email."

"They said I was unfortunately caught in an accidental attack, and for my safety, they have temporarily frozen all assets and permissions under my name."

"An accident? Ha! If it weren't for you, my corpse would already be on a morgue table being autopsied by that perverted coroner!"

Old George, who was tidying up his surgical instruments, gave an unsatisfied harrumph.

"Hey, miss, watch your mouth. Not all coroners are perverts; at least I don't particularly like autopsying living people."

Ava ignored George's teasing; she stood up unsteadily, stepped barefoot on the carpet, and walked toward Chen Mo step by step.

The blanket slipped, revealing her torn gown and a large expanse of pale skin.

She didn't care; in front of this man, she had no dignity left to speak of.

"Chen Mo." She addressed him by name, the usual calculation and charm in her eyes gone, replaced by a madness born of near collapse. "I want them dead."

Chen Mo secured the bandage, picked up the cigarette case on the table, shook out a cigarette, and put it in his mouth without lighting it.

"That's a very expensive wish. The Rockefeller Family isn't a street gang; to move against them, you need leverage."

"I have it."

Ava rummaged through the pile of handbags she had thrown on the floor and pulled out an unassuming black card reader.

Her fingers were white with force, her nails almost embedding into the plastic casing.

"This is the insurance my father left behind before he died. He was a smart man and knew that being a white glove for the family meant he would be discarded one day."

"Inside this are the details of the family's political contributions in Washington over the last five years, as well as the funding flow for that damn Vanguard Bio lab."

Chen Mo's pupils contracted slightly.

Vanguard Bio, Unit-734, Ouroboros.

These clues were like scattered fuses, finally finding the detonator they led to.

He took the card reader and plugged it into the anti-tracking laptop in front of him.

His fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard, and [Hacking Mastery] instantly took over the data stream.

A waterfall of encrypted documents flashed across the screen, the green code reflecting in his glasses, flickering on and off.

Old George leaned in, and when he saw a few scanned documents pop up on the screen, he whistled.

"Whoa, big move. These vampires are still giving blood to those old stubborn fools on Capitol Hill? If this gets exposed, tomorrow's The New York Times front page could blow up The White House."

"It's not just political contributions." Chen Mo's finger paused on a subfolder named "Ouroboros Project."

He clicked on the file.

A complex capital structure diagram appeared on the screen.

The Rockefeller Family's trust fund was just one node in this vast network.

The money, like blood, was laundered through countless offshore companies and shell funds, finally pouring into a secret account in Virginia.

And in the notes field of that account, the familiar logo was clearly printed—a snake devouring its own tail.

"They aren't just sponsors." Chen Mo stared at the screen, his voice as cold as ice. "They are the breeders."

Ava leaned on the table, staring fixedly at the data. "I don't understand these technical details, I only know that this thing can make them hurt. Chen Mo, can you use this to destroy them?"

Chen Mo closed the laptop and raised his head to look at Ava.

"Destroy them? No." He shook his head, a playful arc appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"If this stuff is thrown directly to the media, it would at most make the Rockefeller Family's stock price drop a few points and lead to a few scapegoats being pushed out; that's too wasteful."

He stood up and approached Ava.

He was a head taller than her, and the pressure radiating from his bones made Ava subconsciously want to back away, but she resisted.

Chen Mo reached out, pinched her chin, and forced her to look up. "You got one thing wrong: revenge isn't the goal, power is."

"I don't want power, I just want to survive and watch them go to hell!" Ava roared in a low voice.

"Surviving requires power. Sending them to hell requires more power."

Chen Mo's fingers stroked the line of her jaw, his tone as flat as if he were discussing what to have for dinner.

"Do you want to be the stray dog chased by the family, or the master sitting at the end of the long table, deciding who gets thrown out to be fed to the dogs?"

Ava was stunned.

Her breathing became rapid, her chest heaving violently.

Sitting at the end of the long table.

That position was something even her father didn't dare to covet while he was alive.

That was a privilege belonging only to the truly "pure-blooded" core members of the Rockefeller Family.

"You can do it?" Her voice was trembling.

"I can pull you out from under the guns of three top assassins, so I can put you in that position."

Chen Mo released her, sat back on the sofa, and picked up the unlit cigarette again. "But my price is high."

"What do you want?" Ava asked eagerly.

"Money is just numbers to me." Chen Mo took out a lighter, lit the cigarette with a "pop," the flame illuminating his bottomless eyes. "I want absolute control."

He took a drag of the cigarette, exhaled a cloud of blue-grey smoke, and looked at her through the smoke.

"From today on, you are no longer Ava of the Rockefeller Family; you are Ava of the Legacy."

"You will own a legitimate investment company, and you will take this dirt to negotiate with the family—not to expose them, but to blackmail them."

"You will take back the shares that belong to you, and even more. You will become the thorn in the family's side that they find troublesome but are forced to court."

Chen Mo paused, his tone suddenly turning cold: "But you must remember, everything you possess—your life, your power, even every breath of air you take—is given by me. If one day you want to jump ship..."

He pointed to the Ouroboros symbol on the screen.

"Believe me, you will miss the days of being chased by professional assassins."

The room fell into a deathly silence.

Only the sound of rain tapping on the glass remained, as if counting down for this transaction.

Ava looked at the man in front of her.

He was injured, sat casually, and looked like a tired detective just off work.

But she knew that a true monster was hidden beneath this skin.

A monster a hundred times more terrifying than her cold-blooded family.

But strangely, this fear didn't make her want to run.

Instead, it made her feel a kind of... unprecedented sense of security.

In this man-eating world, only by standing behind the most ferocious monster can one avoid being eaten.

Ava took a deep breath, as if she had made a decision.

She let go of the blanket and let it slip to the floor.

She walked barefoot to Chen Mo and knelt on the carpet on one knee.

This was not humiliation; this was a pledge of loyalty.

She grabbed Chen Mo's right hand, which held the cigarette, and pressed her forehead gently against the back of his hand.

At that moment, she was no longer a haughty socialite, but a blade just quenched and fresh out of the forge.

"From today on, my life belongs to you."

Ava's voice was very low, yet it clearly penetrated the sound of the rain.

"As long as it makes them pay the price, even if you want me to sell my soul to the devil, I'll sign."

Chen Mo felt the warmth coming from the back of his hand—it was the warmth of a living person, carrying fear and ambition.

He didn't pull his hand away, but just smiled faintly.

This was what he wanted.

The system panel flickered at the edge of his vision.

[Ding! Key character "Ava Rockefeller" subordination established.]

[Obtained "Chaebol Puppet" permission.]

[Unlocked new intelligence source: Rockefeller Family internal network.]

[Layout progress: 15%]

Chen Mo looked at Old George, who had been watching the show on the side.

The old man was grinning, revealing a mouthful of tobacco-stained yellow teeth, and gave him a thumbs up.

"Brilliant." Old George threw the surgical scissors back into the tray, making a crisp sound.

"Now we not only have guns, but also a purse. Honestly, I'm starting to feel sorry for those old nobles."

Chen Mo stood up and stubbed out the cigarette he hadn't finished smoking in the ashtray.

"Don't be in such a hurry to pity them, George."

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked at New York, which was shrouded in rain.

In the distance, Manhattan was brightly lit; those skyscrapers were like tombstones, burying countless dirty secrets.

"With this list, plus Jack's moves on Wall Street..." Chen Mo's pupils reflected the city lights, as if two flames were burning.

"That Ouroboros thought it could hide in deep water and we wouldn't be able to catch it."

Chen Mo turned around, looked at Ava still kneeling on the ground and Old George wiping gun oil, his tone as calm as if he were saying tomorrow would be sunny.

"Get ready; since we have the bait and the fishing rod, now... it's time to drag that big fish out of the water for some air."

He picked up his phone, and the screen displayed the message from Jack Martin.

Chen Mo swiped his finger and replied with a short message:

"Close the net."