Chapter 38 Return, Presenting the Evidence
Chapter 38 Return, Presenting the Evidence
He casually tossed his phone onto the desk and turned his gaze back to Warren, who was slumped on the floor.
Those usually gentle eyes had completely shed their disguise, revealing a bone-chilling ferocity churning in their unfathomable depths.
"Looks like the Daphne card won't save your life." Dylan lifted his chin slightly, his tone ice-cold. "Since you won't talk nicely, we'll do this another way."
As soon as he finished speaking, two burly security guards immediately stepped forward, each grabbing one of Warren's arms and twisting them behind his back, forcing him to his knees on the ground.
One of the guards kicked Warren hard in the spine without mercy, making him cry out in pain.
"Beat him until he talks." Dylan watched coldly, his voice completely flat.
Fists and kicks rained down like hail, the dull thuds of flesh hitting flesh echoing through the CEO's office.
Warren's face swelled up, covered in bruises, his mouth full of blood. The intense pain made him completely lose his mind.
Once he admitted to kidnapping the Brown family's daughter, his life would be over. His desperate will to survive made him struggle like a rabid dog.
"Dylan! This is illegal torture!" Warren spat blood while screaming hysterically in a hoarse voice, "This is a society with laws! I'm calling the police! I'll sue you for assault! Even if you beat me to death today, I didn't kidnap that bitch!"
"No need for you to call—I already did it for you."
A clear, hoarse, yet remarkably firm female voice suddenly came from the open doorway of the CEO's office.
The voice wasn't loud, but it struck like thunder, instantly plunging the noisy office into deathly silence.
Everyone turned their heads in unison to look at the door.
Grace walked in slowly, surrounded by several uniformed police officers.
Her appearance at this moment could only be described as utterly disheveled.
Her once well-tailored black business suit was torn to shreds by branches and thorns, covered in mud and dried blood.
Her pale cheeks, neck, and exposed calves were covered with crisscrossing scratches. She'd even lost her heels and was wearing only torn stockings stained red with blood, walking barefoot on the cold marble floor.
But even so, her spine remained ramrod straight, her cool eyes burning with an unyielding cold light, like a blade just forged in fire, radiating a captivating presence.
That cliff had only been a steep slope. She'd risked her life rolling into the bushes, then dragged herself with sheer willpower up to the road, where she'd flagged down a passing police car.
"Grace!"
Alfred's pupils suddenly contracted, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe.
He looked at her wounds, his eyes instantly filling with bloodshot veins.
Like a madman, he pushed aside the security guard blocking his way and stumbled toward Grace, reaching out with trembling hands to touch her scratched face. "How did you get hurt so badly? Was it that bastard? Does it hurt..."
His voice carried a heavy nasal tone and humble pleading, as if he were the one who'd been tortured.
Grace turned her head away in disgust, coldly avoiding Alfred's hand. "Move."
Alfred froze in place. His outstretched hand hung in mid-air, fingertips trembling slightly.
His haggard, worn face was filled with disbelief and deep hurt. He couldn't believe that the woman who used to feel sorry for him even when he frowned now looked at him with only bone-deep coldness and disgust.
Grace couldn't be bothered to look at him. Right now even breathing made her lungs hurt—she had no energy to deal with this lunatic. She impatiently reached out and shoved Alfred's chest hard. "Don't touch me. You're disgusting."
The shove made Alfred stagger backward.
But Grace herself, having aggravated the serious injury on her leg, felt her foot give way, her body falling forward uncontrollably.
Dylan rushed forward in one swift motion, his strong arms steadying Grace's slender waist and carefully pulling her into his embrace.
A clean, crisp woody scent instantly enveloped Grace's senses, driving away the smell of blood from her nostrils.
Dylan looked down at Grace in his arms.
A large purple bruise had formed on her previously smooth forehead, with tiny beads of blood seeping out—a shocking sight.
His usually gentle eyes now surged with turbulent waves.
His jawline tensed into a sharp arc, and the veins on the back of his hand at her waist bulged prominently, revealing the fury and heartache he was desperately suppressing.
"I came too late." Dylan's voice was extremely hoarse, carrying a barely perceptible tremor.
Grace leaned against his warm chest, her taut nerves inexplicably relaxing somewhat.
She shook her head slightly, indicating she was okay.
This scene deeply wounded the eyes of others.
Alfred stared fixedly at Dylan's hand on Grace's waist, his eyes red with jealousy, his teeth grinding audibly.
That was his wife! Why was the man protecting her, holding her tight at this moment, not him!
Standing not far away, Daphne had bitten her lip until it bled. Watching Dylan treasure Grace like a precious gem, looking like he'd rather take her suffering upon himself, her nails dug deep into her palms. Why? What right did a married woman, covered in wounds and disheveled, have to receive Dylan's unreserved devotion!
"Police! You came just in time!"
Warren, sprawled on the ground, was scared out of his wits seeing that Grace wasn't dead and had brought the police to his door.
But he knew that once he admitted guilt, he'd spend the rest of his life in prison.
His eyes darted around, and he immediately pulled out his shameless tactics.
Warren struggled up from the ground, pointed at Grace, and loudly complained first, "Police, I want to report a crime! This woman is slandering me! Not only did she steal our company's trade secrets, she tried to seduce me! She voluntarily took off her clothes to trade for the ledger I had. When I refused, she ran into the mountains and got hurt like this, and now she's brought people to extort me! You must help me!"
He twisted the truth, trying to use that edited recording story to confuse the police.
Grace leaned in Dylan's arms, a cold sneer curling at her lips.
"Mr. Hall, before you make up stories, you'd better check if the other party has any cards up their sleeve."
Grace pulled out a phone with a shattered screen from her torn coat pocket.
This was the phone she'd desperately protected under her body when she regained consciousness in the van.
With blood-stained fingers, she pressed play.