Chapter 32 Can You Be the Daughter of the Brown Group?

Chapter 32 Can You Be the Daughter of the Brown Group?

Dylan shoved open the mangled car door and shot a cold, murderous look toward the light truck's cab.

Sam was slumped over the steering wheel, drenched in sweat, putting on a show of being badly shaken.

"Oh no, Mr. Wilson! I'm so sorry, so sorry—the brakes suddenly gave out!" Sam scrambled out of the truck, bowing and scraping with an apologetic grin plastered across his face.

Just this brief delay, and the black business van had completely vanished at the end of the road.

Lost.

"We'll charge the repair costs to the company. I'll make sure he properly compensates you."

Dylan stared at Sam's phony smile, removed his gold-rimmed glasses, and pulled out a silk handkerchief from his pocket to methodically clean the lenses.

He said nothing, but the icy aura radiating from him was suffocating.

"Brake failure?" Dylan put his glasses back on, his voice completely flat yet carrying a bone-chilling pressure. "Mr. Hall, do you really think I'd buy such a pathetic act?"

"Mr. Wilson, you've got it all wrong, it really was an accident..." Cold sweat beaded on Sam's forehead as he kept bowing and apologizing, trying to bluff his way through.

Dylan couldn't be bothered with his nonsense. His eyes were cold as ice.

He pulled out his phone and called the Wilson family's security force. "Track down a black business van, license plate A78VXX. I want its real-time location in five minutes. Notify everyone—seal off all West Side exits from the city."

His tone was unhurried, yet carried the absolute decisiveness of someone in power.

Sam's smile completely froze on his face.

He'd assumed Dylan was just an unwanted bastard son, sent to Starlight as a figurehead, never imagining he could directly mobilize this level of underground force.

Realizing things had gotten serious, he made an excuse about handling the accident scene, turned and walked to a corner, immediately pulling out his phone to message the driver who'd taken Grace. "Don't let this blow up. Get her to the usual place right away. I'm coming now!"

West Side outskirts, an abandoned chemical factory warehouse.

Weeds grew wild all around, the air thick with the pungent smell of mold and rust.

Grace came to in a wave of nauseating dampness and cold.

Her neck ached, her brain still foggy from the drug's lingering effects. She tried to move, only to find herself dumped on a worn-out sofa, hands bound tightly behind her back with rough rope.

"Awake?"

A sleazy, disgusting voice echoed through the empty warehouse.

Grace jerked her head up, her vision gradually focusing.

Warren stood a few steps away, cigarette in hand, his gaze roaming shamelessly over her body.

That look—like he was sizing up prey about to be slaughtered, openly lecherous.

"Warren, do you have any idea what you're doing?" Grace forced herself to stay calm, her voice cold and sharp.

"Of course I do." Warren took a drag, tossed the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it, walking toward her step by step. "Grace, if what you found at the factory today gets out, my life's work is finished. I've got no choice—I'll just have to inconvenience you a bit."

Grace laughed coldly. "You think tying me up here will erase those dirty books? Mr. Wilson already suspects something. If anything happens to me, you definitely won't get away with it."

"Dylan? What's he supposed to be!" Warren sneered, walking up to the sofa and looking down at her. "An abandoned bastard son of the Wilson family—does he really think he's somebody? Once I get the evidence from you and take a few compromising photos, let's see if Dylan still dares to meddle!"

At this, Warren's gaze grew increasingly murky.

He stared at Grace's coldly beautiful face, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily.

This woman might be just a secretary, but she was definitely top-tier goods.

That black business suit wrapped around her slender figure, and now with her hands bound behind her back, she had an even more vulnerable, crime-inducing quality.

He'd been lusting after her for a while, and now in this remote wilderness, he naturally didn't want to pass up the chance.

"Grace, since things have come to this, why not cooperate?" Warren rubbed his hands together, the lust in his eyes completely exposed. "Just hand over the evidence and keep me satisfied, and I promise I won't hurt you."

With that, he lunged forward, reaching to tear at Grace's collar.

"Get off!"

Grace's stomach churned. She summoned all her strength to lift her leg and kicked Warren hard in the stomach.

Caught off guard, Warren staggered back two steps, nearly falling.

The sharp pain in his abdomen instantly enraged him. Face dark with fury, he rushed forward, grabbed Grace by the hair, and slammed her against the sofa back.

"You ungrateful bitch!" Warren cursed viciously, raising his hand to force himself on her.

"Help!" Grace screamed, her clear voice echoing through the empty warehouse.

"Scream! Go ahead and scream!" Warren not only didn't stop, but laughed maniacally, his laughter full of mockery. "This is the outskirts—you can scream your lungs out and no one will come save you! I suggest you cooperate, or I'll kill you right now, dump you in some remote mountain, and no one will ever find out!"

Icy fear coiled around her heart like a snake. Looking at Warren's twisted face, Grace knew this desperate man had been pushed to the edge and was capable of anything.

Fighting back would only hurt her. She was powerless now—she had to find a way to stall for time, wait for Dylan to rescue her.

"Warren, you'd better think carefully before you touch me!" Grace took a deep breath, forcing down her panic, eyes sharp as she stared at him. "Do you really think I'm just Dylan's ordinary secretary?"

Warren paused, sneering. "What? You going to tell me you're some rich family's daughter?"

"Exactly." Grace lifted her chin slightly, her tone confident and haughty, carrying the natural authority of someone born to privilege. "I'm the daughter of Brown Group, Victor's biological daughter, Grace. If you dare touch a hair on my head today, the entire Brown family will make sure you die without a burial place!"

The air went quiet for a moment.

Then Warren burst into violent laughter.

"The Brown family's daughter? Ha ha ha ha!" He doubled over laughing, tears nearly streaming down his face, treating it like the joke of the century. "Grace, did you inhale too much of that drug and fry your brain? If you were Victor's daughter, would you be working as Dylan's secretary at some company like Starlight Entertainment? If you're going to make up lies, at least make them believable!"

Grace clenched her jaw, her heart turning to ice.