As soon as the words left his mouth, the bodyguard approached, holding a bottle of clear liquid. He uncorked it and poured every drop over the woman.
Her face went deathly pale. Before she could speak, the bodyguard who’d been restraining the Bichon let go. The little dog, crazed by the scent, flew at the woman with a savage bark.
Her screams tore through the house.
Daniel didn’t even glance her way. He kept his gaze lowered, idly spinning the ring on his finger. Under the lamp, the diamond gleamed, cold and sharp.
“Remember anything yet?” His tone was quiet, almost bored.
The woman was soaked—hair, clothes, and jeans reeking of alcohol. The Bichon had gone berserk, biting and tearing until the woman was left a bloody mess. It took real effort for the bodyguards to wrestle the dog away.
She collapsed, barely recognizable, trembling on the floor. “I—I remember…”
Daniel rose and walked over, his tall frame casting a shadow that swallowed her whole, like some demon from hell. “You raised that dog yourself. All it took was a whiff of alcohol and it turned on you. Now you know what it feels like to be bitten. Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Tears and blood mixed on her face as she sobbed, “It hurts…”
Daniel’s polished Italian loafers pressed down on her hand. “So you can feel pain. What made you think no one else could?”
Her face twisted in agony. “I—I was wrong. I know I was wrong…”
“Who put you up to this?”
She went silent, feigning unconsciousness. Daniel glanced toward a nearby room. “I’m not exactly a moral man. If you come after my people, I don’t care who you are—I settle the score. I’ve got plenty of alcohol. Tell me, would your little monster recognize its real master?”
She screamed, breaking down. “I’ll talk! I’ll talk! It was a man—he paid me to do it. I don’t have his contact info, but I know what he looks like. You can find him!”
—
The sky was pale with dawn by the time Daniel finally nodded off, only to be woken by his phone.
“Daniel, he’s gone. Last trace was in Everwood—probably slipped out of the country.”
Daniel rubbed his brow, exhaustion weighing heavy. He pulled up the surveillance photo just sent over: a completely unfamiliar face. No records, no identity. Whoever was behind this knew how to cover their tracks.
The Campbell family’s business empire was vast. No one in their world had entirely clean hands—enemies were inevitable. Was this revenge from an old rival, or did Amelia cross someone she shouldn’t have? He couldn’t be sure.
He lit a cigarette to clear his head and left his office.
His assistant, who’d been pulling an all-nighter, jolted awake at the sound of the door opening. “Mr. Campbell, you haven’t slept at all. Heading out already?”
“Go home and get some rest,” Daniel said. “I’ve got something to handle. Push my morning meetings to tomorrow.”
The assistant hastily wiped drool from his mouth, curiosity piqued. What could be so important that Mr. Campbell, sleepless all night, was right back on the move?
There was a famous breakfast spot in Silkwood, but they didn’t do takeout—if you wanted their food, you had to queue up. When Daniel arrived, a line had already formed out the door.
He waited half an hour for breakfast, then drove to a bakery known for its apple blossom pastries, making sure to buy the very first fresh batch of the day.
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