Chapter 125 Chapter 125
The general's wife smiled broadly as she motioned for Grace to follow her. Apparently, she intended to introduce Grace to the other female guests. Grace hesitated slightly and glanced back at Benjamin. Seeing him nod, she finally followed the general's wife. Along the way, people frequently greeted the general's wife. She mostly responded with a smile and a nod, only occasionally pausing to introduce Grace to someone.
Grace could tell that the general's wife was introducing her to more prominent figures. Since she didn't quite follow their conversations, she chose to listen with a smile, mirroring the reactions of those around her and occasionally shifting her facial expressions.
Once, when she turned her head, she spotted Benjamin watching her from across the crowd. Their eyes met. He seemed startled for a moment, then his lips curved into a gentle smile.
Grace froze for a moment, then turned away, expressionless. Yet, when she faced the women again, her earlier composure vanished. Though she didn't look back, she felt certain that he was still watching her from the shadows.
This made her uncomfortable, so she excused herself to use the restroom and slipped away from the crowd into the house. A small bathroom on the second floor offered refuge. She went inside, locked the door, and leaned against the sink, lost in thought.
Landon's words from yesterday had sparked many new thoughts. Almost everything needed to be reconsidered from the beginning. Before, she had been obsessed with proving that "Benjamin" was "Alex" in order to bring "Benjamin" to justice. In doing so, she had overlooked the most crucial point: whether it was "Benjamin" or "Alex," as long as she could find evidence of his illegal actions, she could hold him accountable.
She had been fixated on the wrong approach all along. It was Landon's words that finally snapped her out of it: "You don't cut down a tree by chopping its branches—you have to strike at the root."
Where did Benjamin's roots lie? He belonged to the Norman family, and the Norman family's roots were right here, in this very land.
"Using drugs to buy weapons, then using weapons to protect drugs." Although Grace hadn't known much about this place before, she had heard tales of Mexico's madness.
The Norman family's money had never been clean—not in the past and certainly not now.
But who was Landon? Why was he reminding her of this? Was Benjamin testing her, or did he genuinely have hidden motives? For a moment, Grace couldn't be sure. Lost in thought, she didn't notice the gunfire erupting outside until the sound grew deafening and screams pierced the air, jolting her back to reality.
She froze, instinctively reaching for the doorknob before stopping. Judging by the chaos beyond the door, staying in this enclosed bathroom might actually be safer. Steeling herself, she released the handle, paused briefly, and opened the door wide. She ducked behind the sink and tucked herself into the inner corner.
Outside, the gunfire was intense, with shots ringing out incessantly. Soon, a louder explosion echoed, shaking the entire building violently. Ceiling tiles rained down from above.
Grace knew nothing about weapons and couldn't identify the type of weapon that could pack such a punch. Her panic grew. She couldn't decide whether to stay hidden or try to escape.
Just as she hesitated, she faintly heard someone calling her name outside. The cry was mixed with gunfire and explosions and tinged with panic and agitation.
She recognized it immediately—it was Benjamin's voice. The calls echoed, sometimes distant and sometimes close, and then faded upward. She guessed that he hadn't found her on the second floor and was now searching the third. Grace hesitated briefly before rushing to her feet, flinging open the door, and dashing out. She had barely reached the small hallway when she collided with Benjamin, who was sprinting down from the third floor. His eyes locked on her, and his expression shifted from relief to fury. He grabbed her roughly and snapped, "Where the hell did you go?"
He yanked her toward the stairs. Stumbling after him, she shouted, "Where are we going?"
"The bomb shelter," he replied coldly. "They have heavy weapons."
Before they could reach the bottom of the stairs, another rocket hit the house. Before Grace could react, Benjamin shielded her with his body and pushed her down. The deafening explosion tore at her eardrums as the house collapsed around them. In the dizzying chaos, he held her tightly as they fell down the stairs.
Grace felt something strike her leg and searing pain shoot through her. Darkness flooded her vision, and she blacked out instantly. When she woke up, she had no sense of time. Darkness surrounded her, and gunfire still echoed outside. Benjamin kept gently patting her face and urgently calling her name. “Grace? Grace?”
She let out a pained moan. However, Benjamin was filled with relief. Pressing his palm against her cheek, he asked, "Where does it hurt? Where are you injured?”
Grace's mind was still foggy and her ears were stuffed with thick cotton, so Benjamin's words were hard to make out. Only after he repeated his question several times did she come to her senses, struggling to answer, "My leg...my thigh hurts. Something must have hit it.”
"Where?" he asked, his voice tightening. Trapped in his position, he could only reach down and feel her leg. To his shock, his hand was immediately covered in sticky, wet blood—her wound was clearly still bleeding. Benjamin stiffened visibly but quickly regained his composure. He pulled off his shirt and tore it into strips to try to bandage her injury.
Trapped in a narrow crevice by the broken stone slab, even the slightest movement was difficult. His other arm was pinned beneath her body, preventing him from freeing it. One hand alone was insufficient to bandage her leg. He reached for her arm on the same side and asked, "Grace, is this arm injured? Can you move it?"
"No," she replied.
He gripped her hand tightly and said in a low voice, "Then listen to me. Work with my hand. Together, we'll tie off your wound first."
By now, Grace had calmed down. She knew that the thigh contained numerous arteries and veins, and that injury could easily lead to massive blood loss and death. She didn't want to die—at least not there. "Is it an artery or a vein?" she asked calmly.
Benjamin was surprised that she could remain so composed at that moment. Yet, he felt a surge of pride. This was his Grace—the woman he had chosen. In the darkness, he fumbled for the torn half of his shirt and used both hands and his mouth to rip it into small strips. He pressed one end into Grace's hand before answering her, feigning lightness. "It probably isn't an artery. If it were, we'd hear the hissing sound of blood spraying by now."
"Then we should tighten it distally, right?" she asked in a low voice.
"No, just bandage the wound directly." He reached out to feel her injury, assessed the damage, and pressed the strip of cloth against her wound. After wrapping it several times around her thigh, he directed her. Only through their coordinated effort were they able to secure the bandage. By the time her leg was bandaged, Benjamin was drenched in sweat. He discreetly wiped the blood from his hands on his clothes before reaching up to touch her cheek and soothe her. "Don't be afraid."
The gunfire outside faded into the distance, replaced by loud shouts. Benjamin listened intently, then said, "The enemy's been driven back. They're going after them.”
Whether from numbness or because the pain had peaked, she momentarily didn't feel the agony in her leg. Hearing Benjamin's words, she couldn't help but ask, "Then what about us?"
“Don't worry. Help will come,” he replied.
But they didn't know how deep they were buried. It seemed as if the entire building had been blown apart, trapping them at the very bottom. Benjamin shouted several times but received no response from outside. He couldn't tell if no one had heard him or if they were too busy to notice. Grace remained silent until Benjamin, unable to contain his impatience, reached out to push the slab of stone above them. Only then did she speak up to stop him. "Don't bother. We should wait patiently. I don't want the building to collapse again and leave us without this small opening.”
He couldn't wait, though. Her leg was injured and bleeding steadily. Without immediate medical care, her life was in danger. His voice already hoarse from shouting, he reached for a stone beside him and tapped lightly on the slab above, trying to signal those outside. Still, there was no response.
"Where's Michael?" she asked softly.
Benjamin paused before answering, "Probably buried somewhere, too."
The attack came suddenly. The first rocket landed in the courtyard, killing and injuring many guests. Those who survived were terrified and fled in all directions. Michael tried to shield Benjamin as they headed for the air-raid shelter. However, Benjamin shook him off and rushed into the house to find Grace. Michael had no choice but to follow him inside. They split up to search for her. Benjamin dashed straight upstairs while Michael stayed on the ground floor.
Michael wouldn't have fled without seeing him, so he must still be in the house. Benjamin wondered if he was still alive.
Benjamin fell silent. After a while, he suddenly realized that Grace, who was in his arms, hadn't moved in a while. His heart clenched. He quickly reached out to gently pat her cheek and called her name, "Grace? Grace?”
She sounded weary. Her voice was faint as she murmured in response: "Mm?"
Unable to see her face clearly, he touched her injured leg. Sure enough, blood was still seeping out and soaking through the torn shirt wrapped around it. Benjamin felt panic rising within him. Cradling her face in his hands, he coaxed her softly: "Hang in there, Grace. Help will be here soon.”
He hadn't spoken too soon. Outside, voices echoed as someone called out, "Is anyone down there?" Benjamin shouted his response. Upon hearing an answer, he hurriedly patted Grace's cheek again. "Don't sleep. Talk to me."
Grace murmured an indistinct "Mm-hmm," paused for a long moment, then muttered to herself, "I want to call Adrian. I want to hear his voice."