Chapter 238

Chapter 238

Roy's face twisted into something grotesque—a smile stretched across his features, but his eyes burned with unhinged madness.

He wanted to see this high-and-mighty CEO broken down, sobbing and screaming in agony!

Emily's knuckles turned white as she gripped the nail file tighter.

No way in hell was she giving him what he wanted. In a direct confrontation, the physical disparity left her at a severe disadvantage.

Her gaze flicked to the signage pointing toward the stairwell—about ten feet away. The second she bolted, Roy would be on her.

She had one shot.

Wait for the elevator to deliver someone—anyone. Even if it wasn't some burly security guard, just the presence of another person might spook Roy long enough to give her an opening.

But Roy's patience had evaporated. He raised the baseball bat high, lips curling into a vicious grin.

"Since you won't cooperate, don't blame me for—"

Ding.

The elevator's soft chime sliced through the suffocating silence.

Emily whipped around instinctively.

The doors slid open with agonizing slowness.

No burly security guard. The elevator was empty—except for one man.

Tall and lean, platinum-blond hair catching the fluorescent light. He wore a crisp, simple shirt that made his fair features look almost ethereal. Sharp cheekbones, cool gray-blue eyes, an air of refined detachment.

He clearly hadn't expected to step into a scene straight out of a crime thriller. His expression flickered with surprise.

Then recognition crossed his face. He nodded politely, his voice smooth and natural.

"Ms. Windsor?"

That single greeting detonated Roy's last shred of restraint.

He thought Emily had called for backup.

"You bitch! You set me up!"

Roy's face contorted with fury. All hesitation gone, he swung the bat with every ounce of strength he had—straight at the platinum-haired stranger.

"I'll take you out first!"

The bat whistled through the air, a strike meant to kill.

In that split second—

The blond man's expression shifted. He threw up his arm defensively.

Crack.

Metal met bone with a sickening thud. His face twisted in pain, a low grunt escaping his lips.

Before Roy could wind up for another swing, Emily's eyes flashed cold as steel. No hesitation. She drew her leg back and drove her foot straight into Roy's lower abdomen with every ounce of force she could muster.

Roy's scream tore through the parking garage like a siren.

He crumpled instantly, body curling inward like a dying insect, hands clutching his groin. The pain was so blinding he could barely make a sound. He hit the concrete hard, writhing and gasping.

Even the toughest men couldn't withstand that kind of pain.

Emily didn't wait. She bent down, snatched the bat from where it had clattered to the ground, and swung it down hard across his back, then his arm.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Fast. Brutal. No trace of the composed, elegant woman she usually was. She moved like a cornered predator—vicious, efficient, unrelenting.

The blond man stood frozen, clutching his injured arm, eyes wide with shock. For a moment, he forgot all about his own pain, utterly transfixed by the scene unfolding before him.

Soon, the only sounds echoing through the garage were Roy's agonized moans and the dull thuds of the bat striking flesh.

When his cries finally weakened to whimpers, Emily stopped.

Her chest heaved with exertion, adrenaline still flooding her veins. But her eyes—her eyes were ice-cold, sharp, fully in control.

When she turned that gaze on the stranger, he instinctively swallowed, wincing as the movement jostled his arm.

"Ms. Windsor," he ventured carefully, voice soft. "Should I… call the police? Ah—shit—"

Pain lanced through his arm mid-sentence, forcing a sharp intake of breath.

Emily lowered the bat slowly but didn't let it go. The tip rested against the concrete with a faint metallic scrape.

"Who are you?"

The man blinked, momentarily thrown. Then understanding dawned, and he offered a wry, slightly pained smile.

"Drew."

A pause. Then, with a touch of playful reproach: "Didn't think Ms. Windsor would forget me so easily."

Emily's mind, still sluggish from the adrenaline crash, finally caught up. She glanced at his platinum hair, and it clicked—Wendy's brother. The matchmaking disaster from a few weeks back.

Honestly, Wendy had left a far stronger impression. After all, people who actively tried to pick fights with Emily were becoming an endangered species these days. Wendy qualified as a rare specimen.

As for Drew… what the hell was he doing here?

Emily raised the bat again, leveling it at his chin.

"Why are you here?"

Drew's gaze flicked nervously between the blood-smeared bat and Roy's barely-conscious form crumpled on the ground. He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to unsee the carnage.

When he'd first met her, he'd thought Emily was stunning and poised. Now? Now he was pretty sure she was terrifying.

"No conspiracy, I swear," Drew said quickly, raising his uninjured hand in surrender. "I was here for a business meeting. This parking garage is shared between buildings."

Emily studied his face, searching for signs of deception. Nothing jumped out. And he had taken a hit trying to help her—whether intentionally or not.

Her suspicion ebbed slightly. She lowered the bat and smoothed back a few strands of disheveled hair.

"Fine. How's your arm? I'll take you to the hospital."

Drew hesitated, but the throbbing pain in his forearm made the decision for him. He'd driven here alone, and with one arm out of commission, getting behind the wheel wasn't exactly an option.

He nodded, offering a small, gentlemanly bow. "That's very kind of you, Ms. Windsor. But… what about him?" He gestured toward Roy. "Shouldn't we call the police?"

"Someone will handle it. Get in the car."

Emily fished her keys out of her purse and tossed them to him, then pulled out her phone to notify security and Legal.

Within minutes, a rotund security guard came huffing into view, cap askew from sprinting too hard. He doubled over, wheezing.

Emily gave him a quick rundown, then headed for her car.

Drew was hunched in the passenger seat, cradling his arm, face tight with pain. When she climbed in, he forced a polite smile, though the cold sweat beading his forehead betrayed him.

"Don't waste your energy talking. Let's just get you to the ER."

Emily started the engine and peeled out.

Everything had happened so fast, she'd completely forgotten one crucial detail.

 

Five minutes later.

The rotund guard stood alone in the garage, staring miserably at Roy's unconscious form.

He'd been this close to getting through his shift without incident. The underground lot was usually dead quiet. But today? Today, some psycho decided to stage a violent assault in his jurisdiction.

Technically, it looked like Roy had been on the receiving end of the beating. But still. If management found out about this, he could kiss his cushy job goodbye.

Frustrated and anxious, the guard gave Roy a swift kick to the ribs.

Roy jolted awake with a strangled gasp, disoriented and groaning. When the pain hit, he let out a pitiful yelp.

"Fuck! Stop—stop hitting me!"