Chapter 182 Is It Worth It or Not?

Chapter 182 Is It Worth It or Not?

The voice belonged to none other than Dylan himself.

Amelia kept her head down.

He frowned, growing more suspicious.

"Who exactly are you?"

She kept her face hidden beneath the cap brim and pitched her voice low. "Delivery service, sir. I think I dropped a package somewhere on the way in. Just retracing my steps."

With that, she walked away quickly.

Dylan stared after her. Something about that silhouette nagged at him — familiar, somehow — but he couldn't place it.

"Mr. Evans?" His driver glanced back. "Are we moving?"

Dylan lingered a moment longer, eyes still on the retreating figure. Then he shook it off and told the driver to go.

Amelia didn't exhale until the black sedan disappeared around the corner.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Hannah. She looked down — and her eyes went wide.

The news hit like a thunderclap.

Thirty minutes ago, an explosion had rocked Evergreen Hospital. The victim: Albert. He'd been caught in the blast, critically injured, and rushed into the ICU unconscious.

His condition was still unknown.

Every outlet was already calling it an accident.

Amelia knew better. This had been planned. Albert knew too much — and someone had decided to silence him.

Her suspicions, it turned out, had been right all along.

She filed it away and kept moving. A moment later, her steps slowed in front of a sprawling villa — the one Hannah had flagged as Dylan's private residence.

Getting in wasn't going to be easy. Two guards were posted at the front entrance. Amelia scanned the perimeter. The only viable option was the garden wall at the back.

But even if she cleared it, she couldn't do this alone.

"Need a hand, Ms. Wilson?"

The voice came from right beside her — deliberately hushed.

Amelia startled so hard she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She spun around.

Jason.

What on earth was he doing here?

He smiled. "I knew you'd look at me like that. But if you think about it for even a second, you can probably figure it out."

She could. William had sent him. After the photo incident, William hadn't asked for an explanation and Amelia had let it go — assumed he'd moved past it. But clearly he'd been keeping a quiet eye on her. He wouldn't have known about tonight otherwise.

"Doesn't he have work?" Amelia asked, almost to herself.

Jason let out a long, mournful sigh. "Ms. Wilson, with all due respect, you really don't understand how men think. That photo thing — you should've said something to Mr. Lowe. Just a few words. You have no idea how much he's been bottling up."

Amelia blinked. She'd genuinely assumed William wouldn't let it get to him.

"He doesn't do this for just anyone," Jason went on. "Honestly? One sentence from you can put him in a good mood for the rest of the day."

He shrugged, looking thoroughly exhausted by the whole situation.

It landed. She'd been so caught up in everything else that she'd let William drift to the edges without even noticing.

"Anyway — that's a conversation for later," Jason said, straightening up. "Mr. Lowe sent me to help, and I came prepared." He jerked his chin toward the men standing behind him. Broad-shouldered, capable, ready.

Amelia allowed herself a small smile. William always knew exactly when to show up.

She laid out the plan quickly: Jason would draw the guards away from the front entrance while she and the others went over the garden wall.

It came together fast.

Jason had a particular gift for making himself impossible to ignore. He strolled up to the guards and immediately started an argument over nothing — loud, irritating, relentless.

The moment both guards turned their full attention to him, Amelia and the team vaulted the back wall and dropped silently into the garden.

As they neared the villa, a sound cut through the stillness.

"Help…"

Barely a whisper. Amelia went still and listened.

It was coming from below — a basement.

She signaled the others and moved toward the door. With every step closer, the voice grew clearer, more desperate.

One look, and a guard stepped forward and broke the door open.

"Amelia—"

"It's really you—"

The voice was raw, scraped hollow. But it shaped her name.

Amelia pulled out her phone and swept the flashlight across the darkness. In the far corner of the basement, two women lay bound on the floor.

Jenny — covered in blood, a gash on her forehead matted with hair, her face a wreck of dried blood and grime.

And Kelly — hands and feet tied, the one who'd been calling out.

Amelia crossed the room and worked loose the ropes at Kelly's wrists and ankles.

Kelly looked up at her and, against everything, laughed softly. "I never thought there'd come a day when I'd need you to rescue me."

"I never thought there'd come a day when you'd actually ask," Amelia said.

They looked at each other for a moment — and both smiled. Some things didn't need to be said.

Amelia turned and directed the guards to carry the women out. Jenny shot out a hand and seized Amelia's wrist, grip surprisingly fierce for someone in her state.

"Take me with you. There are things only I know. Get me out of here, and I'll tell you everything."

Even now. Even like this.

Amelia pulled her hand free without a second thought. "Jenny, I haven't forgotten what you did to me. Whatever you're holding onto — I'm not interested. Whether I help you is my call."

She turned to go.

"I can prove Dylan Evans murdered his own brother." Jenny forced the words out, each one costing her. "And I have evidence — years of it — showing he's been planting corporate spies inside other companies to steal confidential files."

She sagged after that, chest heaving, barely able to breathe.

Amelia paused.

If that was true — this woman was actually worth saving.