Chapter 95
Soren might be a force to be reckoned with in the business world–ruthless, sharp, always several moves ahead of the competition, able to read people like an open book. But when it came to matters of the heart, he was completely oblivious; sometimes, he needed a little nudge in the right direction.
After Liam finished speaking, he noticed Soren’s brow furrow. At first, Liam assumed Soren was annoyed with him for interfering in Fawkes Enterprises business. He was about to explain himself when he realized that an icy intensity had settled in Soren’s eyes, his gaze fixed on something outside.
Curious, Liam followed Soren’s line of sight. Across the street, a car had pulled up in front of the hotel. A heavyset middle–aged man was helping a woman out of the passenger seat. The woman wore a stunning cocktail dress that accentuated her flawless figure, and even from a distance, Liam could tell she was beautiful.
Liam didn’t immediately recognize her. He let out a soft, mocking whistle. “Well, would you look at that? That’s… quite a taste. Beautiful body, pretty face, but his type seems a little… off.”
He chuckled, but something didn’t feel right. Squinting for a better look, Liam’s jaw dropped as recognition dawned.
“Wait, isn’t that-?”
Before he could finish, Soren had already turned on his heel and strode out the door.
Evangeline’s mind was a foggy haze as she sat in the car, but fragments of clarity began to break through. Her whole body burned with a strange fever, a restlessness she couldn’t shake. A crawling sensation spread from her chest outwards, overwhelming and unfamiliar.
It didn’t take long for her to realize the drink Mr. Wellington had offered her was drugged.
She fumbled for her phone, desperate to call Glenn for help, but as soon as she pulled it from her purse, Mr. Wellington snatched it away.
He was saying something, his words slurred and insistent, but the world around her spun. Evangeline tried to snatch the phone back, but her limbs felt sluggish,
disconnected. She dug her nails hard into her palm, hoping the pain would help her
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stay awake.
Mr. Wellington kept a firm arm around her as they entered the hotel lobby. He was already telling the front desk clerk to prepare a room. Summoning her last ounce. of will, Evangeline broke free and staggered toward the desk. She managed only a few steps before her legs gave out, sending her crashing to the floor.
Lifting her head, she looked pleadingly at the clerk and forced out a frail, desperate cry: “Please help me.”
“He drugged my drink.”
The clerk froze, startled, unsure how to react. Mr. Wellington quickly rushed over, hauling Evangeline to her feet and enveloping her in a tight, possessive embrace. He pasted on a genial smile, addressing the clerk in a tone that was both dismissive and patronizing. “Sorry about that. She’s had a bit too much tonight. We usually keep it at home, but I suppose she wanted to have a little fun in public. Didn’t mean to alarm anyone.”
He turned back to the desk, urging the clerk to go ahead with the room key.
The clerk hesitated, glancing between Evangeline and Mr. Wellington. After a moment’s consideration, she decided it was better not to get involved.
Seeing the clerk turn a blind eye, Evangeline panicked. “Please, I don’t know this man. Call the police, I’m begging you-”
Before she could finish, Mr. Wellington clamped a hand firmly over her mouth. “All right, that’s enough. These people work hard enough without you making a scene.”
“Come on, you’ve had enough to drink. Let’s get you upstairs to rest-”
Before he could finish, Evangeline bit down on his hand with all the strength she could muster. Mr. Wellington yelped in pain, cursing under his breath.
“You little–damn bitch.”
Furious, he slapped her hard across the face.
The blow sent a dull ache radiating through Evangeline’s cheek as she crumpled to the floor. But the shock of pain snapped her mind into sharper focus, and she scrambled to her feet, bolting for the exit.
She barely made it two steps before she collided headlong with someone entering the hotel. The impact knocked her off balance, and she fell backward, staring up at a tall figure: Soren, his face carved in stone, brows knit tightly in anger.
He made no move to help her up, only stared down at her with icy detachment, as if
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she were a complete stranger.
Evangeline’s throat tightened, almost cutting off her words.
But this was no time for pride. She seized Soren’s leg with trembling hands,
desperate to say something–anything–but the energy seeped out of her body all
at once. The world faded to black as she slumped helplessly at his feet.
