Chapter 35 The Man Behind the Mask
Finished
Ethan turned and snapped at the man beside him. “Watch your mouth. There’s a lot more going on here than you understand.”
The security guard immediately shut up. Another man stepped in and asked cautiously, “Boss, if she’s really the Fairchild heiress and we tied her up and knocked her out… aren’t we in serious trouble?”
Ethan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then motioned for both of them to leave and shut the warehouse door behind them.
Outside, he asked for their bank account numbers. “I wired money to both of you. Go lay low abroad for a while.”
The two men instantly understood how serious things were. They didn’t dare ask questions–just took the money and rushed off to buy tickets.
Once they were gone, Ethan made a call.
“I got it. I’ll take care of it.” After a pause, the person on the other end let out a sigh and hung up.
Inside, Quinn slowly opened her eyes. That voice–the one they called “Boss“-sounded oddly familiar, but she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it before.
Soon, she heard the sound of the lock turning.
She shut her eyes quickly, pretending to be unconscious. Someone stood in front of her for a while. The scent in the air suddenly grew much stronger–overwhelming. And then, she slipped back into darkness.
When she woke again, she was in the same spot, but something had changed–there wasn’t a single silverleaf flower in sight. The place was quiet. No one was around.
Quinn scrambled upright and began rubbing the ropes against the sharp edge of a concrete pillar, sawing them open.
She braced herself against the pillar, rising slowly. The scent that had knocked her out earlier–it had been even stronger than the one in her grandfather’s room. And just one breath of it had kept her unconscious for hours.
Carefully, she stepped out of the factory. Night had already fallen.
The factory was pitch black. The guard booth was empty, and everything inside had been cleared out.
Regret hit her hard. She shouldn’t have come so recklessly and tipped them f. But at least she had two crucial takeaways: her grandfather’s illness had something to do with the silverleaf flowers, and whoever was making them had ties to the Fairchild family–or was one of them.
She racked her brain but couldn’t place that familiar voice. Who was he? Why did I feel like she’d heard it before?
And if those two called him “Boss,” did that mean the factory belonged to him?
No one had chased her after she left. Had they cleared out and abandoned her–or let her go on purpose?
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15:01 Mon, 14 Apr
Chapter 35 The Man Behind the Mask
Staggering up to the roadside, Quinn’s vision blurred. Her knees buckled.
Why can’t I move? My mind is so clear… but I can’t feel my strength…
The world–spun, and she collapsed backward-
-straight into a warm embrace. The faint scent of sandalwood filled her nose. It was so familiar…
Quinn tried to look up and see who it was, but all she saw was a blurry shadow.
300%M
Finished
The man gently pulled her into his arms. She whimpered in pain as her back brushed against him, and he instinctively adjusted his grip, holding her more carefully.
He carried her into a car and pulled out a first aid kit. With practiced hands, he peeled off her blood–soaked shirt, cleaned her wounds, and treated each one with great care. Every time he touched her, he paused to check her face, worried about causing her pain.
Once her wounds were treated, he didn’t dress her immediately. Instead, he examined every scar on her body. His slender fingers lightly traced each mark, and when he found a patch of deep bruising, a sharp flash of rage passed through his eyes.
He poured ointment into his hand and gently massaged the bruised area.
Leaning in close, he caught a strong whiff of floral scent on her skin. He found a vial of essential oils and dabbed a bit beneath her nose.
Only then did he dress her and drive her to a quiet spot, laying her gently on a bench by the roadside.
Before leaving, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face and softly stroked her hollowed cheek with his thumb.
In her sleep, Quinn heard someone crying beside her. The sound went on and on–it annoyed her.
She wanted to wake up and ask who it was. Am I dead or something? What’s with all the crying?
Forcing her eyes open, she saw Sally’s tear–streaked face hovering above her.
Sally hadn’t noticed Quinn had woken. She was wiping her eyes and clutching Quinn’s hand tightly.
Quinn’s throat felt like it had been slashed open. Her voice came out dry and raspy. “Water… water…”
Sally jumped in shock, then hurried to bring her a cup. As she helped Quinn drink, she spoke in a rush, “Quinn, where have you been these past few days? You don’t even know how many wounds you have on your back!”
Quinn caught the key word in her sentence and frowned. “Days?”
