Chapter 187 Blocked by Hoodlums

Chapter 187 Blocked by Hoodlums

Ember's POV

After the dinner, I left early because Evelyn had a parent-child event at her kindergarten.

When I arrived, the place was full of kids laughing and running around. The whole atmosphere was warm and sweet, and something in my chest softened.

Then a lonely little figure caught my eye. The boy's name was Zack, I think. He was sitting alone in a corner, hugging a ball, looking miserable. None of the other kids were playing with him.

I walked over and crouched down. "Hey, why are you all by yourself?"

He looked up at me, eyes full of suspicion. "Bad lady, go away! This is all your fault. My mom wouldn't be so sad if it weren't for you!" He spat the words out and ran off.

I stood up slowly, unbothered. It wasn't that I was trying to be some kind of saint — I was just genuinely wondering why Chloe hadn't shown up today. This was her son, around the same age as Evelyn. By the time Asher rejected the bond and our divorce went through, Chloe was already pregnant.

While I was still thinking about it, I caught some hushed chatter from a group of well-dressed women nearby.

"That family of three is seriously stunning. The dad's so gentle, the mom's gorgeous — what a power couple right from the start."

"With genes like that, no wonder their daughter looks like a little doll. They're so lucky."

"They just look so right together. The whole vibe, the looks — everything."

I heard every word and said nothing. If anything, it settled something in me. Fine. Looking at how happy Evelyn was today, she clearly enjoyed having Zane around.

After the parent-child event, the kids had arts and crafts and dance class, so I headed out.

I didn't have anywhere particular to go, so I just drove along my usual routes. The traffic was heavy and the noise was grating on me, so I eventually turned toward the outskirts of the city, where there's a stretch of coastline.

I hadn't been on that road long when a car suddenly came tearing up behind me — an unmarked, modified black SUV.

My jaw tightened. That car was coming for me.



Aggressive horn blasts, clearly meant to rattle me. This area was quiet, not many cameras around. I floored it, trying to shake them off, but they kept right on my tail — then surged forward and cut me off, forcing my car to a dead stop in the middle of the road.

My whole body went rigid. The screech of brakes filled my ears. I gripped the steering wheel hard as the impact nearly threw me forward — the seatbelt snapped me back just in time.

A second later, several heavily built men climbed out of the SUV. The one leading them was—

My eyes narrowed. Him.

It was the man who had harassed me outside the Hart Group building earlier that day.

He had a cold, ugly smile on his face as he moved toward the driver's side. "Ms. Hart. We meet again."

The panic hit me for just a second. I forced it back down and immediately hit the lock button — every door, every window, sealed shut. Nobody was getting in from outside. I glanced at the dashcam. The little light in the corner was on. Good. It was recording.

My emergency line was already dialing. It would connect straight to the police. While I waited for it to pick up, I sent Zane a voice message: "Zane! I'm at that stretch of coast we used to go to — the Westside stretch! Some guy followed me here, he's blocked my car in. I already called the police. Can you — can you get here fast?" My voice, if you listened closely, had a slight tremor in it.

I kept still. This man was dangerous — if they smashed the window and I ended up in their hands, it would not end well for me.

Sure enough, the man outside strolled over, unhurried. He was holding a baseball bat. He tapped it against my window. "Ms. Hart, why don't you come with me? Be smart about it, save yourself some pain. Don't make me break the glass — I'd hate for you to get hurt. That would be such a shame."

On cue, the others fanned out and surrounded the car, banging and yanking at the doors, trying to force them open.

I sat in the driver's seat, heart hammering. I tried to reverse, to find some gap to break through — but their vehicle had me completely boxed in. There was no way out. One wrong move and I'd crash through the guardrail and into the water.

The man watched me, smirking. "So? Come on. You're too pretty for all this. I'll be gentle, I promise."

"You're disgusting." My eyes burned with anger. My knuckles went white around my phone.

His patience ran out. His expression darkened. "Alright. Hard way it is. Do it."

He waved his hand, and the others started kicking the doors in a steady rhythm, then went after the windows. The heavy doors dented in multiple places. The windshield spiderwebbed with cracks. The whole car shook. I kept my eyes sharp and didn't move.

No matter how much they yelled and threatened, I stayed put. Getting out now would be suicide.

Then — crash.

My window gave way.

The man grinned, reached through the broken glass, and grabbed a fistful of my hair. "Come here!"

My eyes went ice cold. I grabbed my car key and drove it straight into his palm.

It was a custom key — same design as a window breaker, sharp and pointed.

"Aagh — my hand—!" He yanked back with a scream, caught completely off guard. Too late. The metal had already punched through the back of his hand, and shards of broken glass were embedded in the wound.

"You little—" His face twisted with rage and humiliation. He raised the baseball bat and swung it straight at me.