Chapter 548

Chapter 548

Bruce's vision went black. Before he could even let out a groan, his body went limp and collapsed.

From the shadows, a figure moved swiftly, dragging him into a nearby storage room.

The door shut without a sound.

Aline paced back and forth in the villa, her heart jumping every time her phone rang.

But on the other end, all she got was the cold automated message that Bruce's phone couldn't be reached.

Dread coiled tightly around her chest.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

She rushed to the door and flung it open, only to find Larry standing there, his face lined with concern.

"Aline, I just heard about Elsie. Don't panic, my cousin..."

"Don't mention him to me." Aline exploded like a lit firecracker. "Elsie is locked up in there, and half of it is thanks to him! If she hadn't met him, how could Elsie have gotten dragged into all this mess? We were perfectly safe for five years. Ever since we came back and she ran into Ronald again, it's been one disaster after another."

Her voice trembled with anger. “I will never let him get close to her again with his so-called love.”

Larry was taken aback, but he remained composed.

"Now's not the time to argue about this! The only person who can get Elsie out quickly and cleanly is my cousin! You know better than I do that the woman from the Glover family is clearly trying to blow this up. The longer it drags on, the worse it is for Elsie!"

"Aline, are you really going to just watch her get dragged through the mud and suffer in there? At least my cousin won't just stand by and watch Elsie suffer."

That last sentence hit Aline right where it hurt.

Aline’s rational mind acknowledged the truth in his words, yet the mere thought of asking Ronald for help made her stomach churn.

In the end, her worry for Elsie won out.

She gritted her teeth and forced out through clenched jaw.

"The address."

The beachside villa remained in disarray.

When Aline stepped into the living room, she was hit by the heavy smell of alcohol and blood.

Ronald sat by the destroyed piano, surrounded by broken keys and glass shards on the floor.

He was still wearing yesterday's shirt, wrinkled and stained with alcohol, his right hand wrapped in thick bandages with blood seeping through.

At the sound of her arrival, he slowly lifted his head.

Those bloodshot eyes were hollow and dead, like everything had burned out.

When he recognized her, his voice came out rough and strained. “Where is she?”

“In police custody,” Aline replied coldly, remaining by the doorway. “Falsely accused of attempted murder."

The deadness on Ronald's face froze after hearing this, then shattered piece by piece.

A terrifying rage exploded from him.

He rose abruptly, unsteady from the sudden movement.

But ignored it as he grabbed his phone and dialed.

"It's me." His voice returned to its usual cold authority. "Find out everything about Ms. Maggie Glover's car accident right now, all the surveillance footage, the driver, hospital reports! I want to know who's pulling strings behind the scenes!"

"I want results within an hour."

He ended the call and immediately placed another.

"Contact the police chief. Tell him I'm taking over Olivia Glover's case. If anyone tries to mess with it, they'll face the consequences."

Each command was delivered with ruthless precision, without hesitation.

Aline watched as he transformed from a broken-down wreck into the powerful head of the York Group.

She didn't know what to feel.

She despised him, yet she could not deny that, at times, he was the only weapon Elsie had.

"Ronald." She spoke up, interrupting him.

He looked up at her.

"You get her out, and we can call it even for the past. But if you dare hurt her like before, I swear, even if it costs me my life, I won't let you get away with it."

She paused, remembering those years Elsie spent abroad.

"You have no idea what she went through. When she first got abroad, she had nightmares every single night, all blood and fire. She couldn't even hold a pen steady, but she forced herself through rehab, forced herself to stand up again."

"Everything she has now, she fought for with her life. It's not for you to trample on again!"

Ronald listened quietly, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his phone tighter.

His heart felt like it was soaking in acid, every breath burning with pain.

"I won't." He spoke quietly, with an almost broken promise.

"I love her."

Hearing this, Aline suddenly laughed, her laughter full of mockery and ice.

"You love her?"

"Ronald, most of her pain came from you. However much you're hurting now, however much you regret losing her."

"Don't you think you deserve it?"

Ronald's body shook violently.

Faced with her unfiltered hatred, he had no answer.

Yes, he deserved it.

He had been the one to push Elsie away, to trample her love, to drive her to the brink.

This was his reckoning.

At four in the morning outside the police station, the cold was biting.

Ronald took off his suit jacket and draped it over Elsie's shoulders without asking.

She was still wearing her thin business suit from earlier, fragile as paper.

Elsie didn't resist or thank him, just pulled the jacket tighter and walked toward the car parked by the road.

Ronald opened the car door, his voice deliberately gentle.

"I'll take you back to the villa."

Elsie stopped and turned to look at him, her eyes unusually clear in the darkness.

"No need, I'll go back myself."

"Go back where?" Ronald's patience was wearing thin. "Back to Harold's place, or to find Aline?"

His voice turned cold.

"Elsie, I helped you today. Come with me to see Elsy."

At the mention of Elsy, she closed her eyes briefly, fatigue overtaking her resistance.

Too exhausted to argue, she walked past him and opened the back door herself.

The drive passed in silence.

The car pulled into the beachside villa, unchanged from the chaos Aline had left behind.

At the sound of their arrival, a maid hurried downstairs, eyes red from worry.

"Mr. York! You're finally back! Ms. Elsy York has a high fever and keeps crying for her mommy..."

Hearing this, Elsie walked straight past Ronald and hurried upstairs.

Elsy lay curled beneath the blankets, her small face flushed with fever, murmuring in her sleep. “Mommy… don’t go…”

Elsie sat by the bed, dampened a towel with warm water, and gently placed it on the child's forehead.

Ronald stood in the doorway, watching her skilled and gentle movements, his heart aching with each beat.

He went downstairs, heated up a glass of milk himself, and when he brought it up, Elsie was leaning against the headboard, apparently asleep.