Chapter 75 "I Won't Let Her Stay by Your Side"
In the hallway behind him, the ten bodyguards were lying on the floor, clutching different parts of their bodies and moaning in pain.
Harrison looked up and saw the gash on Donovan’s forehead. One side of his hair was soaked with a mixture of blood and alcohol, dripping slowly.
Despair was visible within his pitch-black eyes.
He radiated a terrifying aura of malice yet looked like an abandoned puppy.
Harrison had never seen his boss like this before.
His rugged brow furrowed, and he immediately drew the gun from his waistband and fired a shot at Silas’ luxurious table.
The bottle on the table shattered instantly, and shards of glass flew past Silas’ eyes.
Immediately, he dark muzzle was aimed at Silas’ forehead.
Harrison cocked the hammer expressionlessly, chambering a round.
The movement made Silas freeze in fear, and he instinctively shrank back into the wide chair.
Just as Harrison was about to pull the trigger, Donovan raised his hand and blocked the muzzle.
He tilted his chin slightly, signaling for Harrison to lower his weapon.
Then, he strode toward the door with Harrison close behind.
Just as Harrison’s long legs were about to cross the threshold, Donovan suddenly stopped in his tracks.
He turned his face sideways, his gaze sweeping indifferently across the room.
“Money? Not a penny. As for my life,” his voice was icy, “you might tell Mr. Hill that if he isn’t afraid of dying, he’s welcome to come and take it.”
The black Bentley was parked in the grassy lot of Oak Grove Apartments when Donovan’s cell phone rang.
He pulled out his phone and answered. On the other end, Sage was crying bitterly and desperately.
“Mr. Sharpe, are you back?”
Donovan said nothing. Sage seemed to realize something and began explaining frantically.
"I was forced into this. I didn't want it to be like this! You’re not going to abandon me, are you? Mr. Sharpe . . .”
A faint, cold smile tugged at Donovan’s lips as he replied, “No.”
Sage’s heart leapt with joy. Then, unable to believe it, she asked cautiously, "Did those people mistake me for Iris?"
“No,” Donovan replied expressionlessly. “They simply took you for my woman.”
His matter-of-fact tone strangely soothed her frightened heart. Through her sobs, she asked, "So when Iris was captured before, was that also because she was your woman?"
How foolish, Donovan sneered inwardly.
"Yes, so if you're afraid, I can send you away, just as I did with Iris. I'll arrange for you to go to a safe place."
Sage was silent for a long time.
She was afraid, but now that she had been violated, she would never find another perfect man like Donovan.
If Donovan didn't reject her, how could she just walk away?
“Mr. Sharpe…” Sage cried pitifully. “You’ll save me. You’ll protect me, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
"Okay."
As soon as Sage replied, Donovan hung up the phone.
He glanced at Harrison in the passenger seat.
"Assign a few more men to protect Sage. Make it a bit more conspicuous. No need to go out of your way to avoid Maxwell’s spies. She doesn’t have long to live.”
Harrison nodded. “Understood.”
“How are things with Samuel and Jax?”
“The mission is complete. The supplies are stored in a warehouse at the Karammola military base. They haven’t been assigned a new mission yet, so they're on standby in Karammola, waiting for us to rendezvous.”
"Hmm," Donovan nodded slightly. "As for Jack, have Flynn and Corbin keep a close eye on him. Have Vance monitor Maxwell and Kevin’s business dealings in real time. Don’t tip them off. Wait until they make contact with Philip Larson, the middleman, before reporting back to me.”
“Understood.”
“Also, regarding Jasper, have Samuel send him a message saying, The gift has been delivered, and tell him to extricate himself from this.”
"Yes." Harrison acknowledged, then paused for a moment. “The plane’s almost here. Are you going upstairs?” Donovan didn’t answer, nor did he move.
Harrison guessed that Donovan hadn’t left immediately after finishing his business, but had returned to Oak Grove to see Iris one last time.
However, the car had been parked there for over half an hour, and Donovan showed no sign of getting out.
Harrison glanced at the man in the backseat through the rearview mirror cautiously.
He couldn’t fathom Donovan’s thoughts. Was he worried someone was following them? Or did Donovan not want Iris to see him looking disheveled?
Just then, a figure walked past the car.
Donovan rolled down the window and glanced sideways.
It was Amos.
He was wearing a light gray hoodie, and like most college students, he looked like a clean-cut, fresh-faced young man.
His hurried footsteps came to a halt beside the greenbelt at Oak Grove.
Amos didn’t live here. Without an access card, he couldn’t enter the building. He stood there, fiddling with his phone and dialing repeatedly.
Maybe the other person didn't answer because, after about a dozen seconds, he dialed again.
Donovan’s brows furrowed slightly. He opened the car door, stepped out, and walked past Amos without looking his way.
But Amos called out to him.
“Sir.”
Donovan stopped in his tracks and gave Amos a cold glance.
“Who are you calling?”
Amos froze for a moment.
The man before him was clearly young, yet he exuded an even stronger sense of pressure than his own grandfather did.
This aura was completely different from the composed business leaders he usually encountered. This man radiated a domineering, bloodthirsty ferocity.
Yesterday, when he wore a black shirt, he looked casual and laid-back, and that feeling wasn’t nearly as intense.
Today, with his combat boots and camouflage pants, and with the faint outline of his muscles visible beneath his shirt, Amos found himself unable to meet his gaze for a moment.
However, as the heir to the wealthy BT Group, Amos wasn’t easily intimidated.
He quickly regained his composure, bowed his head, and explained, "Sir, you may not remember me. I’m Iris' classmate. We met at the mall yesterday.”
Donovan looked haughty. “What do you want?”
"I came to tutor Iris, but her phone is disconnected. I topped up her credit, but when I called back, I received a message saying her phone was turned off. I’m not a resident here, so I can’t go upstairs. I’m a little worried about her.”
"She's sleeping," Donovan said indifferently.
“Huh?”
Donovan kept his emotions in check and said, "Iris has very particular sleeping habits. She needs hot milk, the blackout curtains drawn, to be wrapped up in her blankets, and all electronic devices turned off. When she doesn’t have classes, she absolutely has to sleep until she wakes up naturally.”
The man’s bottomless black eyes, filled with an inscrutable emotion, fixed on Amos.
Although his tone was flat, Amos could sense danger in it.
Rather than an explanation, it felt more like a declaration of ownership.
Amos ventured a bold guess, "Excuse me, but is Iris your niece?"
“Of course not,” Donovan replied, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "She's my foster child—a little stray kitten."
Raised... a kitten? Amos froze.
So Iris and this man weren’t related. Was she his mistress? Or perhaps not even a mistress, but rather a pet he kept for his amusement?
No wonder Iris had reacted so strangely when she saw him yesterday. There was none of the intimacy between family members, and she kept her head down the whole time.
She was afraid!
Iris was afraid of this man. Like a frightened animal, she was dragged away by him.
So last night...
Amos suddenly felt a tightness in his chest. Before he could say anything, Donovan spoke again, "Amos, hasn't your grandfather's catering company been receiving nonstop complaints these past couple of days? Being investigated by local regulators must be quite a hassle, right?”
Amos’s heart skipped a beat. How did he know?
In a split of time, Amos recovered, his pupils trembling as he stared at Donovan.
“Did you do this?”
Donovan neither confirmed nor denied it, merely flashing Amos a smile that was undeniably handsome yet utterly devoid of warmth.
"It wasn't easy to build the business to its current scale. You should focus on helping the family shoulder the burden rather than wasting all your time on Iris.”
Amos felt a lump in his throat. The politeness he’d shown earlier vanished from his voice.
Frowning, he glared at Donovan with undisguised loathing, as if declaring war.
“Iris is a human being, not a cat! She has the right to love and be loved. You can’t lock her away like a pet. I like her, and I’m pursuing her. I will find a way to take her away. I won’t let her stay with you.”
“Like her? Take her away?"
The smile vanished from Donovan’s face.
He turned his head and exchanged a glance with Harrison.
Harrison quickly stepped forward and subdued Amos with a swift, decisive move, forcing him to his knees at Donovan’s feet. Harrison then grabbed Amos by the hair, forcing him to look up.
Donovan dropped to one knee, crouching before Amos.
He drew a cold, gleaming dagger from the sheath at his side, grazing the skin on Amos’s neck so lightly that it was almost imperceptible.
“You want to take Iris away?” Donovan’s voice was low and icy. "We'll have to see if you're still alive to do it."
It all happened too fast. Amos hadn’t even had time to react.
He couldn’t believe anyone would be crazy enough to commit murder in broad daylight.
But, as the cold blade brushed against his Adam's apple, Donovan's murderous intent was crystal clear.
Amos couldn’t imagine what kind of life Iris must have been living, trapped in the hands of a man who seemed so polished on the outside but was a demon on the inside.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it.
The blade in Donovan’s hand had already sliced into his neck, pushing inward with a slow, precise motion.
His flesh was torn open, and an unbearable pain shot through him as if piercing his heart.
Agonizing pain and utter terror intertwined wildly, but Amos could only open his mouth helplessly and let out a faint moan.
There was a vast disparity in physique and strength between Amos and Harrison. With Harrison pinning his legs to the ground and twisting his arms behind his back, Amos was like a bird awaiting slaughter, unable to struggle at all.
Warm blood gushed out along the dagger’s groove, flowing over the gleaming blade.
Drop by drop, it splattered onto the gray tiles beneath his feet and spread into dark red stains.
Donovan's motion as he slit Amos' throat was unnervingly slow. This deliberately prolonged, excruciating pain finally unleashed the immense terror lurking deep within Amos' heart.