The man in black accurately called out her name.
The tip of the knife, glinting coldly, picked up Evelyn Clayton’s warmth, her heart suddenly sank.
This person was specifically targeting her.
She couldn’t tell whether to be relieved that she hadn’t encountered a random home invader killer or to hope the man in black wasn’t out to take her life.
Evelyn Clayton didn’t want to die.
The man in black was indifferent to her panic and explained his intentions methodically: "Miss Mu wants to invite you for a talk."
The man in black nodded, his burly figure exuding an indescribable sense of pressure.
Evelyn Clayton wanted to refuse, unable to hope that that crazy woman would let her off.
She had to think of a way to get her situation out.
"Can I make a phone call to my friend? She’s supposed to come over tonight, and if she finds me missing and can’t reach me, she’ll worry." She feigned weakness, even deliberately softening her voice: "Miss Mu didn’t say I couldn’t report in, right?"
The man in black did not refuse.
She called Yara Reagan. Upon understanding the situation, her voice suddenly shot up by eight octaves.
"Don’t go! In the middle of the night, what is there to talk about!"
"What kind of problem is this!"
Evelyn Clayton moved slightly away from the receiver.
As she moved, the knife moved as well.
The distance between them never exceeded a centimeter.
Yara Reagan didn’t know how deeply troubled Evelyn Clayton was.
Evelyn didn’t tell her this; it was this moment of silence that made Yara think she was hesitating.
"Evelyn, have you forgotten how that Mu treated you!"
The call was not on speaker, but Yara Reagan’s voice wasn’t quiet.
Especially since the man in black wasn’t far from Evelyn Clayton, he could more or less hear their conversation.
His patience was about to run out; he gestured with his empty hand, silently urging her.
Sweat formed on her back, and Evelyn Clayton had no choice but to quickly say, "I must go!"
The moment the call ended, the knife grazed her skin, leaving a thin red line on her pale neck.
"You’re not being honest."
On the other side, Yara Reagan understood Evelyn Clayton’s hint and contacted James Grant.
In the private room of the club, James Grant suddenly stood up, ready to leave.
Tristan Hawthorne, who was closest to him, held him down: "You can’t go!"
Keith Donovan, not knowing what happened, looked puzzled.
Upon seeing James Grant’s dark expression, a sense of foreboding inevitably rose in him.
No way, was he such a jinx?
"I have to go find her," James Grant squeezed these words out through gritted teeth.
Tristan Hawthorne disagreed, and upon realizing, Keith Donovan also blocked the door.
"Do you want to make her situation even worse?"
James Grant suddenly paused, the strength in him dissipated, and he struck the stiff sofa back with his clenched fist.
In that moment, he truly felt what it meant to be powerless.
In the western suburbs, inside the basement of a villa.
The black cloth covering Evelyn Clayton’s head was pulled off, and suddenly seeing the blinding light, she lowered her head.
Once adjusted, she opened her eyes and saw the person sitting in front of her.
The man in black who brought her here was nowhere to be found. Official source is novel★fire.net
"Wasn’t I invited for a talk?" Evelyn Clayton gestured with her eyes at her hands and feet bound with rope: "Is this Miss Mu’s way of hospitality?"
The villa was private property, and there were no extra people here, so she didn’t even bother pretending.
Her haughty demeanor remained unchanged, and she gave a contemptuous smile.
"Evelyn Clayton, I don’t care how entangled you were with James Grant before, now, you’d better not appear in front of him."
"It’s best if you’re indifferent to him; if you have feelings, cut them off completely."