Chapter Four

It was not that she did not know that she was being tracked, nor was she unaware of being watched. She had been aware of it for the past two months—since the very beginning.

Now, anyone feeling wise might be wondering that if she was fully aware of the Hero Committees eyes on her, why did she never inform her of it, or perhaps heighten security around her house and office.

All of them are valid musings, but one thing that should be known about Morrigan Josefina Rosa is that she never turns away from a challenge. If that challenge happens to be the Hero Committee trying to endanger her family…well, her husband is talented; and her daughter is too smart for her age.

So, instead, she focused on the bigger picture. That is: securing the confidentiality of the Villain's Association. Even her daring spirit was unwilling to risk the hard work and efforts of her colleagues. What happened in the Association, remained in the Association. That was how it was and that is how it will continue to be, even if it meant that she was six feet under.

Fortunately, or not, three days after she had finished her preparations, three poorly disguised heroes had come knocking.

She supposes, they deserve some credits for not instantly believing her excuses, but it is nullified when a few tears are enough to convince them that she is, after all, telling the truth.

Honestly, what was her younger self thinking when wanting to be one of them?

If she were a lesser woman, she would have probably dropped the act then and there and bent over laughing.

However, since she is Morrigan Josefina Rosa, daughter of the leading mafia in Mexico, and the wife of the Greatest Rovanoff, she does not laugh. Instead, she activates her bionic eye, shoots a coded message to her husband, and follows the disguised heroes like a pitiful and broken person.

The first time she felt like breaking her act was when she was led inside a closed facility and her daughter was there, hands bound.

Her cry of surprise was not faked as she ran across the room and cupped her daughter's face. When there were no injuries, she let out a sigh of relief, hugging her daughter.

Vestia's acting was impeccable and she felt pride bubble within her at the dignified way her daughter handled the situation—wearing a blank, bored expression as hero assistants ran in circles trying to please her.

Morrigan met her daughter's eyes and winked before she stood back up and thanked the heroes for "rescuing" her daughter.

When she was given few lone minutes with Vestia, she wasted no time, detailing the situation to her daughter. Vestia did not need comfort, not when her parents were who they were. Instead, she seemed to be enjoying herself, sitting there with hands bound and heroes doing everything to please her. After all, she might only be seven, but she was her protégé and nothing short of fire raining down from the skies would really faze her.

Since there was no need to comfort her, Morrigan allowed her answers for every unspoken question she might have had.

When the heroes returned, with sweetened words they informed her of how they planned to bring her husband and the Rovanoff clan down from their seat at the top of the world.

The answer?

A pathetic press conferences.

One that asked no relevant questions and instead twisted her own words into something so abysmal that Morrigan could barely restrain herself from throwing it all out and just walking out.

The second time she felt like dropping her act was when a journalist used her act to provide evidence that her darling daughter, the apple to her and Viktor's eyes, were not even theirs.

The product of an extramarital affair they said.

Stolen from the hospital to provide an heir, they mused.

And for the first time, Morrigan let her act slip as she leaned forward, pointing at the moron and in clear, steely words answered.

"Say what you will about the man I married, but don't dare and insult my daughter."

Perhaps her tone was not threatening enough, the journalist did not get the hint and instead flaunted an article from seven years ago where two new-borns went missing.

She did not have the self-control needed to not call that bastard an idiot. So, she did. And then she let her tone get even more terrifying—the tone she used on the officers in the Villain's Association when they procrastinated their reports.

"Are you perhaps unfamiliar with how a child is born?" She asked politely. "Or perhaps, did you possess my body? Because last time I checked, I was the one who bore the child, and I was the one who had to undergo fifteen hours of labour. Unless perhaps I simply dreamt it all, I think I am pretty certain that my daughter is mine. And my husband's seeing how I never laid with another man before or after him."

Finally, the reporter flailed, stuttering as he failed to come up with a response.

She felt quite fed up and thus she deviated from her pitiful act as she met the reporters' hungry eyes. To hell with acting innocent, it was not worth hearing her husband's name getting dragged through the mud.

"Believe it or not, I was not abused in my marriage. Of course, he threatened my family, and of course he monitored all my moves, but never once did he abuse me, nor was he unfilial to me. I did not know his true identity until much later, but even after I learnt his identity, and became fearful, he treated me well." She announced proudly, "I am thankful that the heroes rescued me not because he was abusive toward me or my daughter, but because I hated the fact that he killed people as a job, that he destroyed families just so he wished."