Reincarnated to the Day I Got a Villa

As soon as I finished speaking, Tristan immediately stepped in, his expression all smiles, but his eyes held a calculating glint.

"Charlie, they just happened to pass by. Since they're already here, why not let them stay?" His voice was light, almost as if he were trying to make it seem like a trivial matter.

Then, turning to the two men, he ordered, "You two, keep an eye out and make sure Mr. Ross' glass is never empty."

Oscar and Bruno exchanged knowing grins and quickly agreed.

Once the celebration banquet began, the atmosphere became lively. Toasts were made in my name, each one accompanied by the clinking of glasses and forced laughter. At first, I took a few sips out of courtesy, but before long, the alcohol began to take its toll, my vision swimming as dizziness settled over me like a heavy fog.

I tried to refuse the next drink, but before I could set the glass down, Tristan suddenly clamped a firm hand on my shoulder, his grip almost bruising. "Come on, Charlie! It's a celebration! Don't be a buzzkill."

Before I could protest, Oscar and Bruno moved in, each gripping one of my arms as they pried my mouth open.

"Before coming here, Mr. Ross said he's in a great mood. If anyone else wants to toast him, do it now—don't keep him waiting!" Tristan announced loudly, his voice filled with amusement.

Some of the attendees hesitated, uncertain about how far they should take things. Then, as if on cue, Zane stepped forward and poured a full glass of liquor into my mouth.

"Mr. Ross, this one's for you!" Zane grinned, forcing the liquid down my throat before I could react. The burn was immediate, a scorching sensation that spread from my throat to my stomach.

Drunk and disoriented, I struggled weakly, but the room seemed to tilt around me. The faces blurred together, laughter ringing in my ears like a distant echo.

Tristan leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Charlie, I offered you a mansion, yet you refused. Now, I have to take you there myself."

My vision wavered, but my anger burned through the haze. That bastard. He was actually forcing me into this.

As if satisfied with the turn of events, Tristan turned away and pulled Vanessa into his arms, openly kissing her in front of everyone. Yet, not a single person reacted—it was as if they had all decided to ignore what was happening right before their eyes.

By the time the banquet ended, my body felt like lead. The drunken stupor made it nearly impossible to move. Tristan dismissed the crowd with a casual wave, his demeanor unbothered. Just then, his assistant, Luke, arrived and whispered something in his ear. A slow, sinister smile spread across Tristan's face as he nodded.

"Take him to the mansion," he ordered.

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged outside. The cold night air did little to clear my mind as they shoved me into a car and drove off. My limbs felt heavy, unresponsive and my head lolled against the window.

Once inside the mansion, they didn't waste time. Tristan's men tied my hands and feet, securing me to a chair. The tightness of the restraints bit into my skin, sending a wave of sharp pain through my body.

Tristan stood before me, his expression smug as he watched me struggle uselessly.

I glared at him coldly before suddenly spitting right onto his face. "Tristan, what the hell are you trying to do?! I treated you like a brother and I even promoted you to Vice President! Is this how you repay me?!"

Tristan wiped his cheek slowly, his smirk unfaltering. Then, without warning, he drove his foot into my stomach. The force of the kick sent a jolt of agony through my body, knocking the wind out of me.

"Shut the fuck up, you dog!" he snarled.

He crouched down, his voice dropping into a low, almost amused whisper. "Since things have come this far, I might as well let you die with some understanding. Do you think I held a press conference when buying this mansion just for show? I wanted everyone to know I'd be living here."

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to focus. "What are you talking about?" I demanded, though my voice came out hoarse.

Tristan smirked. "Do you remember Martin? He's getting out of prison tonight—and he'll be coming here to kill me. And you... you're going to be my scapegoat."

The room suddenly felt colder.

"You framed him to go to prison. You were the one stealing kickbacks! And now you have the audacity to say all this?!" I spat, my fury barely contained.

Tristan chuckled, his fingers lightly tapping against my bound arm as if amused by my anger. "Oh, so you knew? Then aren't you curious why I'm so sure Martin will come for revenge?"

A terrible thought flashed through my mind.

"If it was just about being falsely accused, he wouldn't resort to murder... unless..."

Tristan let out a low, satisfied laugh.

"That's right! I had his wife gang-raped until she died. And his son? I had him kidnapped and sold to human traffickers."

My breath hitched. A sickening wave of nausea rolled through me, but it wasn't from the alcohol.

Tristan's voice took on a sickeningly casual tone, as if he were recounting an amusing anecdote. "Every time I visited Martin in prison, I would describe how I played with his wife... and how his son got chopped into pieces by the traffickers."

He leaned in closer, his lips curling into a grin. "I did it just to enrage him. And now, I'll use him one last time—to get rid of you."

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms.

"Does Vanessa know about this?" I forced the words out through gritted teeth.

Tristan chuckled. "If she knew I had fun with another man's wife until she died, do you think she would still be helping me set you up like this?"

His grin widened as he reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, waving it mockingly in front of my face.

"Oh, by the way... you didn't happen to have your phone recording this conversation, did you?"

Tristan took my phone, turned it over in his palm and sneered. "Just as I thought."

Without hesitation, he raised it above his head and smashed it onto the floor. The sharp crack of shattering glass echoed through the spacious mansion. Not satisfied, he ground the device beneath his heel, twisting his foot until the delicate circuits were reduced to nothing but a crushed heap.

"Charlie, your entire life has been a pathetic joke," he mocked, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "In the end, everything you've done has only served to elevate me. Tomorrow morning, I'll come back to collect your corpse. Hahaha!"

Laughing wildly, he grabbed a heavy club from the corner of the room. Without warning, he swung it with all his might, slamming it against my skull. Pain exploded through my head before my vision darkened.

As consciousness slipped from my grasp, I felt my body collapse onto the bed. Distantly, I heard Tristan moving around, carefully adjusting my position, making it seem as though I were peacefully sleeping. He was meticulous, ensuring that when Martin arrived, he would believe that he had finally found his long-awaited target.

"Don't lock the door," Tristan ordered his men before stepping out. "Let him walk right in. Make it easy for him."

Then, everything faded to black.

I had no idea how much time had passed when I felt someone shaking me awake. My eyelids fluttered open and a blurry figure loomed above me. As my vision cleared, I found myself staring into a familiar face.

Luke.

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "Did you get everything he just said?"