Chapter 4

The elevator dinged open.

The air in the hall seemed to freeze.

Everyone stared at me in horror, like watching a demon crawl out of hell.

I walked out of the elevator step by step, gripping the still-dripping baton.

The hem of my red dress was torn, exposing my pale, slender legs speckled with blood.

“Skyler! You maniac!”

Martha screamed and rushed at me, raising her hand to slap me.

“Do you know what you’ve done! You beat Mr. Holt’s bodyguards! You’re going to destroy the Jones family!”

My eyes turned cold. I grabbed her wrist.

Applied slight pressure.

“Ahhh — it hurts! Let go!”

Martha’s features twisted in pain. Her knees buckled and she dropped right in front of me.

“When you hit me, did you worry about my pain?”

I looked down at her, my voice devoid of warmth.

“When you drained my bone marrow, did you worry I’d die?”

“Now you’re scared?”

Seeing this, Vivian immediately put on a pitiful expression.

She faced the livestream camera, tears falling on command.

“Skyler, why are you treating Martha like this? Even if you’re jealous of me, you can’t hit people!”

“Mr. Holt will be here soon. Apologize to Martha quickly. Mr. Holt is such a good person, he’ll definitely forgive you.”

She was still trying to maintain her kind rich-girl persona.

I shoved Martha aside and walked straight up to Vivian.

She backed up a step in fear, but still tried to act tough.

“What… what do you want? This is Mr. Holt’s territory!”

“Slap!”

I backhanded her across the face.

Vivian spun half a circle and crashed to the floor.

Half her face swelled immediately, blood seeping from her mouth.

“You… you dare hit me?” She covered her face, staring at me in disbelief.

“Hit you? So what?”

I crouched down, grabbed her hair, and forced her to look up at the camera.

“You love livestreaming, right? Come on, tell everyone.”

“Those talent design drafts you’re so proud of — who drew them?”

“That bone marrow that saved your life — who gave it?”

“And the confidence you have to stand here now — who gave you that?”

Vivian struggled desperately, eyes darting away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Let me go! Help! Mr. Holt, help!”

Just then, the carved doors at the end of the hall burst open.

An extremely cold, oppressive aura instantly swept through the entire hall.

Everyone held their breath, unconsciously clearing a path.

A man in a black haute couture suit, surrounded by a dozen bodyguards in black, walked slowly forward.

His features were deep and striking, his nose bridge high, his jawline sharp as a blade.

Those pitch-black eyes radiated a chilling murderous intent.

New York billionaire, tech mogul, Ethan Holt.

Vivian crawled toward him like she’d found her savior.

“Mr. Holt! Mr. Holt, save me! This crazy woman hit me, and she beat your men!”

“She doesn’t deserve to serve you at all! Mr. Holt, throw her in the ocean to feed the sharks!”

Martha also hurried over, kowtowing obsequiously.

“Mr. Holt, please calm down! This girl is mentally ill. The Jones family will deal with her immediately. We won’t dirty your eyes with her presence!”

Ethan didn’t acknowledge them.

His gaze cut through the crowd and locked onto my face.

He saw my torn dress.

Saw the marks on my wrists.

Saw the bloodied baton in my hand.

The temperature of the air around him instantly dropped to freezing.

Scarface followed behind him, pointing at me and shouting:

“Mr. Holt! It’s her! She’s the one who injured our men! You must…”

“Shut up.”

Ethan’s voice was soft but carried undeniable killing intent.

Scarface immediately went silent, breaking into a cold sweat.

Vivian kept fanning the flames, oblivious.

“Mr. Holt, look how arrogant she is. She doesn’t respect you at all…”

Ethan suddenly moved.

He strode forward step by step toward me.

His leather shoes struck the marble floor with dull thuds, like footsteps on everyone’s hearts.

Vivian and Martha exchanged glances, wild joy flashing in their eyes.

They thought Ethan was going to kill me himself.

The other people in the hall shook their heads, certain I was done for.

Ethan walked up to me and stopped.

He stood a full head taller than me. His massive shadow completely enveloped me.

I met his eyes without flinching.

Three seconds later.

Under the shocked, stunned gazes of everyone present.

The all-powerful, ruthless Mr. Holt of New York.

Suddenly bent his knees.

“Thud.”

He dropped straight to his knees before me.

His hands clutched desperately at my waist, burying his face in my dress.

His broad shoulders trembled violently.

A low, hoarse, aggrieved voice thick with tears echoed through the hall.

“Baby…”

“You’re finally willing to keep me…”