Chapter 8

Joe cleared his throat, then looked Warren in the eye without a trace of shame. It was as if he was never at fault. "Don't take it so hard, Mr. Sutton. We both know how the case is going to go, not to mention my client hasn't complained about what your sister did. I don't see why you're making such a fuss."

Warren broke free. He did not know how he found the strength, but suddenly, he managed to grab Joe by the arm. Then, he threw a punch right into his as hard as he could.

Joe immediately fell into Rose's arms.

One look at his swollen cheek was enough to make her murderous.

"Have you lost your mind?" she snapped at Warren.

Warren could not stop shaking as a bitter laugh escaped from him. "Where the hell were you when they played that video of Mia?! Are you dead in a hole somewhere? You didn't see a thing until somebody touched Joe, huh? Don't forget we had a deal, Rose! Do you even remember?"

Maybe it was the first time Rose had seen him this angry and ready to do something reckless, for she eased back a little. However, her voice still left no room for argument as she said, "I'll keep everyone here quiet. The deal stands. But break it again, and next time, it'll be your mother on that screen."

Warren swallowed the blood in his mouth one more time. But this time, he also gave up on fighting back. "I'll never forget this, Rose, for as long as I live."

Warren walked away without looking back, but Rose felt a strange tightness in her chest. Then Joe started sobbing in her arms, almost unable to breathe, and her face hardened again.

He had barely left the hall when someone covered his head and dragged him into an alley. He told them he was a lawyer and what they were doing was a crime, but they did not care to stop.

They held him in place and set up a phone to film.

Then, a man stepped up and slapped him. His ears rang, and more blows came before he could recover.

He had no idea how long it lasted. His face swelled until every breath hurt, and he had no strength left to cry.

Just as he was slipping in and out of consciousness, he saw them send the video. Then one of them spoke into the phone. "All done, Ms. Chapman. Ninety-nine punches, just like you said."

"Good. I got it." The cold female voice from the other side was the last blow.

When they finally let Warren go, he dropped to the ground. He did not know which hurt more—the beating, or knowing she had ordered it.

He did not tell anyone about what had happened. All he wanted to do after this was to take Angelica and get out as soon as possible.

His phone reminded him that their flight was in three hours.

They packed quickly and were almost ready to leave when someone started pounding on the door. A middle-aged woman, who was already complaining before she cleared the doorway, barged in.

"About time. What were you doing in here?"

Warren stared at her. "Who are you? I don't know you. Get out."

She took one look at his face and clicked her tongue. Then she turned to someone behind her, ignoring Warren. "Look at his face, son. That's not going to help. Still, selling him should cover your wedding. We'll work out the rest."