Chapter 187 The Gift Joseph Gave

Chapter 187 The Gift Joseph Gave

Sophia's POV

Riding that momentum, I tore through them like a wolf through a flock of sheep, swinging the iron rod in a blur of relentless strikes. I took down several thugs blocking my path and ripped a gap right through their tight formation, breaking out of the ambush.

In just a few minutes, more than half of the twenty-odd thugs who had been so full of swagger were now sprawled across the ground, clutching broken arms and ribs, moaning in pain.

The air reeked of blood and burnt metal.

I stood in the middle of the wreckage, one hand hanging loosely at my side, the bloodstained rod dangling from my grip. My chest rose and fell slightly, but my breathing stayed steady. I swept my gaze over the few thugs still standing. I looked at them the way you look at dead men.

Jalen's hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold his baseball bat. His teeth were chattering. He swallowed hard and stared at me with pure terror in his eyes.

This was nothing like the pushover the intel had described. If they kept fighting, none of them were walking away tonight.

"Damn it... fall back! Go, go, go!"

Jalen completely fell apart. He didn't even try to throw out a parting threat. He just dropped his bat and scrambled away on all fours. The remaining thugs had already lost their nerve the moment their boss bolted. They weren't about to stick around a second longer. They stumbled and dragged each other out, leaving their knocked-out guys behind without a second glance, and fled into the night.

The night breeze swept through the trashed street and carried away the sharp smell of blood.

Lisa and Sam had been huddled by the back kitchen doorframe. All three of them stood there frozen, eyes wide, completely stunned. They looked at the thugs rolling and groaning all over the ground, then back at me standing in the center of it all, not a single hair out of place. Their minds had gone completely blank.

Was this really the same vice president who ran things from behind a desk? This was way beyond movie-level spy stuff.

Clang.

I tossed the bloody rod aside without looking. The metal hit the concrete with a dull thud. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a tissue, and calmly wiped the dust off my knuckles before heading toward the back kitchen.

"It's over," I said. My voice was quiet and flat, nothing like the cold edge it had carried during the fight.

Sam finally snapped back to reality, and the two of them shuffled out, leaning on each other. When Sam's wife took in the smashed stall and the debris scattered everywhere, her eyes went red. Tears started falling. This was how their family put food on the table.

"Show me your payment QR code," I said, pulling out my phone. My tone left no room for argument.

Sam blinked, then shook his hands rapidly. "No, no, no. Miss, you saved our lives. We can't take your money. The stall's gone, but we're okay, that's what matters..."

"Business is business." I pulled up the transfer screen without waiting, walked over to the QR code still stuck on the wall in the corner, and scanned it.

A chime rang out. Transfer complete. Five hundred thousand yuan.

The clean little sound cut through the quiet night air. Sam's knees nearly gave out.

"That's way too much! This whole stall isn't worth more than seven thousand dollars..."

"The rest covers medical bills and emotional damages. Go to the hospital and get a full checkup. Take some time off before you reopen." I pocketed my phone and called my security team in the same breath, gave them the address, and kept it short. "Bring two cars. Take these two to the hospital, then send a few guys to clean up here."

I hung up and turned to Lisa, who was still standing there in a daze.

But Lisa's eyes were locked on my left wrist. The pale skin there now had a two-inch gash across it, clearly caught on a rough metal edge when I grabbed the rod. Blood was dripping steadily from my fingertips.

"Miss Spencer... you're hurt!" The tears Lisa had been holding back broke through all at once. The guilt hit her like a wave. If it weren't for her, none of this would have happened to me.

"It's just a surface cut." I frowned slightly and flicked the blood off my wrist, unbothered.

I looked up and scanned the utility poles and rooftops around us. No blinking red lights. No camera lens catching the light. These guys had picked a surveillance blind spot on purpose. This was planned.

"I'm so sorry... this is all my fault..." Lisa was crying so hard she could barely breathe. She dug frantically through her bag for a tissue to stop the bleeding, but her hands were shaking too much to even tear the wrapper open.

I put my hand over hers. My voice was calm and steady. "Lisa. Look at me."

Lisa lifted her tear-blurred eyes.

"This scratch won't kill me." There was a quiet certainty in my voice. "But if tonight shakes you up and you lose tomorrow's competition because of it, that's when you'd actually be a burden to me."

Lisa stiffened. She bit down hard on her lower lip and forced the tears back.

"Dry your eyes and go get some sleep." I let go of her hand and slipped back into my usual businesslike tone. "Eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Convention center. Get your head right. Don't let me down."

"Yes, Miss Spencer!" Lisa nodded firmly, her eyes steadying with fresh resolve.

Late that night. The Spencer family estate.

The whole house was dead quiet. I slipped back to my room without making a sound.

I peeled off my dusty shirt and stepped into the bathroom. In the mirror, the cut on my left wrist had already dried to a dark red scab. I opened the first aid kit without any expression on my face, cleaned the wound with an alcohol swab, and worked through it with the kind of practiced ease that made it clear I was used to this. Like I couldn't even feel it.

For me, something like this barely registered.

After patching up the wound, I threw on a robe, stepped out onto the balcony, and dialed an encrypted number.

"Lady Sophia." A respectful voice came through on the other end.

"Find out who those thugs were tonight." I stared out into the deep darkness beyond the window. Something cold moved through my eyes. "I want to know who gave them the nerve. Dig up whoever's pulling the strings, whether it's leftover Monze Group business or Carl making a desperate move. Once you have the evidence, hand it straight to the police. I want them rotting in a cell."

"Understood."

The next morning.

Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains and fell across the bedroom floor. I was up on time.

After getting ready, I put on a low-key outfit, black cargo pants and a plain white tee, and pulled my hair up into a high ponytail. The sharp, polished edge of the vice president was nowhere to be seen.

I had barely made it downstairs when the butler came over with a warm smile, holding an elegant velvet gift box with both hands.

"Good morning, Second Miss." He gave a slight bow and held the box out to me. "The Young Master asked us to prepare this for you last night. He said to wish you good luck in today's competition."