Chapter 73 You're Too Young
It was a dead end.
If she didn’t speak up as Iris' stand-in, Donovan might abandon and be killed by Maxwell’s people.
However, there was still a faint glimmer of hope that Donovan would come to her rescue. After all, he had clearly expressed interest in her, even if it was fake.
She had no choice but to cooperate with Donovan and maintain the charade.
When Iris woke up, she found herself lying on the bed in the master bedroom, wrapped tightly in a light blanket.
The curtains were drawn so tightly that no light could penetrate, and there was no sign of Donovan in the room.
“Donovan?”
Iris called out softly. The room was empty, and no one answered.
She searched the entire apartment to confirm that Donovan had left. Only then did her heart, which had been on edge the whole time, finally relax.
Worried that Donovan might return, Iris hurried to the front door and changed the code on the keypad lock.
Back in the bedroom, she remembered how Harrison had helped her get her paychecks before—he’d opened that door in just a few tries!
Harrison could crack the code.
In that case, changing the code might be useless!
A chill ran down her spine. She climbed out of bed immediately, rushed back to the front door, and bolted all three latches from the inside.
That should keep him out.
Iris looked at the locked latches and felt much more at ease.
She glanced at the wall clock in the living room. It wasn’t even six o’clock yet.
Last night, after being held by Donovan, she stayed up late before finally falling asleep, but her sleep was restless.
Iris lay back down on the bed, clutching the stuffed cat, and wrapped herself back in the blanket.
I'll sleep a little longer!
Anaheim, S Group Headquarters.
Donovan had made a point of arriving ten minutes early, but he hadn’t expected Maxwell to already be waiting in the office.
He was dressed in a well-tailored suit, and his features were handsome. However, the paunch that had developed with middle age made him look like a sleazy businessman.
At that moment, Maxwell was standing in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the cityscape.
Donovan shot Maxwell a cold glance and stepped inside.
Harrison remained outside and closed the door behind them.
“Maxwell.”
Donovan spoke first, idly fiddling with a matte-finish metal lighter in his left hand.
He walked straight to the large desk in the center of the office, pulled out the high-backed chair at the head of the desk, and sat down without hesitation.
Maxwell turned at the sound, his expression dark, and did not respond immediately.
A hint of undisguised mockery curled the corner of Donovan’s mouth as he continued. “I almost forgot. Though you are the group’s largest shareholder, you haven’t officially taken the position of chairman.”
Donovan leaned back lazily in his chair and crossed his long leg, clad in military boots, over the polished desk.
The sole of his boot pointed directly at Maxwell, who sat by the window.
Maxwell’s face darkened instantly, and his right hand, clasped behind his back, clenched into a fist unconsciously.
Chairman?
As long as Silas was alive, he could never truly seize power.
He was clearly in his forties yet lived under Silas’ absolute control.
What Maxwell detested most was Donovan’s air of having everything under control. Suddenly, his gaze turned fierce.
“Donovan, don’t you care about your woman’s life? Get your feet off my desk!"
“Of course I do—otherwise, why would I be here?”
Donovan didn’t move; instead, he lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled a stream of smoke in Maxwell’s direction.
“What do you want?”
Maxwell didn’t want to waste time on trivialities with Donovan.
He strode forward, pulled a blue folder from a drawer, and tossed it into Donovan’s lap.
"Here's the transfer agreement for all the shares under your name. Sign it, and I’ll release her immediately.”
Donovan leafed through the papers, his gaze lingering briefly on the page detailing the pharmaceutical R&D company.
His expression remained calm as he let out a faint, enigmatic chuckle.
“You’re truly shrewd—you won’t even let a consistently unprofitable company slip through your fingers.”
An unprofitable company? This short-sighted bastard has no clue about its immense value!
Maxwell picked up the coffee cup on the table, revealing the gleaming gold watch on his wrist. He took a light sip of coffee, forcing down his excitement. He was afraid Donovan might sense his true feelings and kept his tone deliberately flat.
"Whether it makes a profit or not isn't important. What matters is that I want you out of S Group.”
Donovan nodded, his tone casual. "Fine. I never cared about these scraps of stock anyway. It’s a shame you went to such lengths to fight me over them for so long. You can have them, but you must guarantee that my woman is returned to me safe and sound.”
“Rest assured,” Maxwell said, handing him a pen. His tone was laced with disdain. "Only you would treat a woman who pretends to be pure and harmless on the surface—but who cries and screams when trouble hits—like a treasure. Me? I couldn’t care less.”
Donovan chuckled softly, took the pen, and signed his name on every agreement.
Then, he tossed the entire folder back to Maxwell.
"Release her."
Maxwell flipped through the signed contracts, page by page, unable to suppress the sneer on his face. "They say love lowers your IQ. I didn’t believe it before, but now I do. Donovan, you’re putting on such a calm front, but deep down, you’re probably going crazy with anxiety, aren’t you?”
Donovan’s gaze remained calm. He didn’t respond.
He pulled his feet off the desk and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
Maxwell couldn’t hide his delight as he continued, "You're too young. A man shouldn’t bow down to any woman. Especially people like us who walk on the edge of a knife—we certainly shouldn’t get emotionally involved with anyone.”
Donovan closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
If it weren't for maintaining this charade, he would have pulled out his gun and blown this idiot's brains out right then and there.
This idiot was enough to make his hair stand on end!
Fortunately, Maxwell’s emotional tirade didn’t drag on too long. Just as Donovan’s patience was running out and his hand was about to reach for his holster, Maxwell dialed a number.
“Take her back to the AT Villa.”
The call didn’t end immediately. Maxwell listened for a moment with his eyes downcast. Then, he added, "Kill everyone who's defiled this woman. Send me the photos.”
He then turned to Donovan, adopting an expression of surprise and regret. “I have no interest in your woman, but my men don’t know their place. Rest assured, though—I guarantee I’ll make them pay.”
Seeing Donovan’s face darken instantly, Maxwell couldn’t hide his glee.
He reached out and pressed down on Donovan’s hand as it moved toward his gun. "We're family. There’s no need to break ties over a woman. Dad will be here soon. Now that he’s back in power and close to Jack, are you sure you want to kill me in front of him?”
At least he wasn’t stupid enough to bring up Silas to intimidate him.
Donovan withdrew his hand without a flicker of emotion.
“How is she?”
“She’s still alive.”
Donovan said nothing more and stood up to leave.
Maxwell snorted, pulled over a chair, sat down smugly, and deliberately mimicked Donovan’s mannerisms.
"Even if she's dirty? Donovan, it seems you really do care about this woman! Well, then you’d better protect her well—and for heaven's sake, don't let her die too soon."