CHAPTER 184: CHAPTER 184: GRANTING FREEDOM

Across the screen, Ian Kane met Vera Sheridan’s eyes filled with hatred and disdain.

She said again, "Do you want to go to jail again?!"

Her merciless voice pierced his heart like a sharp knife.

On this end, Justin clenched his fists until they made a cracking sound, glaring fiercely at Vera before turning and leaving the room.

He shouldn’t have bothered saving this damned woman!

Just as he closed the door, Justin resolutely said to Ian Kane on the other end, "Kane, don’t try to persuade me, I won’t let her go no matter what!"

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the lake outside, "If you don’t come back within 24 hours, I’ll tie her up in a pig cage and sink her to the bottom of the lake!"

"Anyway, you gave me this damn life!"

Now that she’s been kidnapped, Justin was determined as hell to fulfill whatever Ian Kane had planned!

Ian Kane didn’t say anything; he just hung up and dialed another number, "Prepare the car, head to the airport, book the earliest flight to Ardendale."

A quarter of an hour later, the door of the dressing room opened.

Ian Kane, dressed in a suit and tie, walked out while putting on his wristwatch as he listened to his assistant hurriedly reporting the situation.

"President Kane, I’ve found out. Noah Grant is in Bernheim, and his partner Joel Quinn was in a serious car accident and is in critical condition."

"Noah Grant is currently at the hospital, gathering global experts for the rescue, not leaving his side."

Ian Kane continued his actions, fastening the watch’s strap, "Is the car ready?"

"The driver is waiting for you already."

...

In Bernheim, inside the hospital’s expert conference room.

Noah Grant listened to neurologists from around the world discussing and researching surgical plans.

He leaned back in his chair, tieless, his shirt collar open and rumpled out of shape.

The man’s eyes were bloodshot, with faint dark circles under them.

Since arriving in Bernheim, he hadn’t closed his eyes, and the lines of his face were taut with exhaustion.

Eventually, the experts unanimously decided to proceed with a craniotomy that only had a 50% success rate.

Surrounded by the experts, Noah Grant walked out of the conference room, pausing when he saw the elder Quinns and Joel’s slightly pregnant girlfriend, Claire, not far off.

Perhaps noticing his heaviness, the hope in the elder Quinns’ eyes dimmed.

Claire, exceptionally calm, approached him, her voice quivering slightly, "Noah, it’s okay, just tell us."

Noah Grant’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his gaze shifting to the approaching Quinn elders, nodding slightly, his voice low, "He needs a craniotomy, success rate... fifty percent."

Upon hearing this, the Quinn elders swayed slightly.

...

Smoking area.

Noah Grant leaned against the wall, lowering his head and shaking a cigarette out of the pack, which dangled from his lips.

The acrid smoke rolled into his lungs, yet failed to quell the weight pressing on his heart.

It was he who had dragged Joel from his vacation with his girlfriend... only for an accident to occur on the way to negotiations...

Noah Grant closed his eyes, reaching for his phone instinctively to call Vera Sheridan.

The screen remained pitch black.

The phone had long been dead.

...

Vera Sheridan had disappeared.

Owen Sheridan, frantic with worry, immediately reported it to the police.

The west side of the cemetery was a wasteland without surveillance, so there was no footage capturing her disappearance.

Moreover, Justin’s group had a strong anti-detection sense, taking undeveloped mountain roads, making it difficult for the police to locate them quickly.

Late at night, in the villa room.

Vera’s hands and feet were tightly bound with black tape.

Not a drop of water had passed her lips for over ten hours, leaving her throat painfully dry.

She leaned back on the sofa, with only one thought in her mind: the final match the day after tomorrow!

If Ian Kane won’t release her, what if she misses it...

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to suppress the surge of panic rising within her.

Downstairs, suddenly there was the roar of an engine.

A Rolls-Royce Phantom broke the silence, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the villa.

The bodyguard quickly opened the door, and Ian Kane stepped out of the car.

The streetlight outlined his cold and sharp silhouette.

Black leather shoes stepped onto the stone steps, producing a distinct echo.

He raised his hand, pushing open the heavy double doors of the villa.

Inside the room, the subordinates who were playing cards froze in their actions, instantly falling silent, each swiftly standing up and respectfully greeting, "President Kane!"

Ian Kane’s gaze, as sharp as a knife, swept over everyone, landing directly on the staircase.

Justin was descending from the second floor, dressed in a bathrobe, his rugged face flushed, lips dry and pale.

"Kane, you still came," his hoarse voice was still as unruly as ever.

Ian Kane’s face was frosty, the air pressure around him suddenly dropping.

He raised his hand, and the bodyguard behind him immediately handed over a silver golf club.

The metallic sheen flashed.

Ian Kane’s five fingers clenched, weighing the club’s shaft, his lips pressed into a straight line as he strode forward, ready to swing it at Justin!

Justin didn’t dodge, not one bit.

"President Kane!" a subordinate urgently called out, "Justin’s back was burned by acid while protecting Madam!"

Upon hearing this, the club in Ian Kane’s hand halted mid-air, only then noticing Justin’s abnormality, "What happened?"

As he spoke, his fingers loosened, and the silver club clattered to the ground.

He took a large stride around to Justin’s back, with just one glance, the vein in his temple pulsed.

Justin’s white bathrobe back was a glaring red.

"You don’t want to live?" Ian Kane’s voice was cold and deep, "Get to the hospital immediately!"

Justin looked indifferent, slumping into the sofa nearby, gasping in pain as his back touched the wound, yet still wore his defiant demeanor, "It’s nothing. My skin’s tough; I won’t die. She’s in the master bedroom on the third floor, go ahead."

He watched Ian Kane’s back as he turned to leave, spat, his hoarse voice tinged with a harshness:

"Kane, this time she was almost disfigured by people found by Noah Grant’s fiancée!"

Ian Kane’s fist clenched.

"Look at her now, in such a dire situation, not a trace of Noah Grant! If he can’t protect her, what right does he have to keep her?"

"Can you really bear to see her stay with someone like that, repeatedly trampled by those so-called decent people? This time it was acid, what about next time?"

"Since she’s already tied up, and she’s here, don’t hesitate anymore!"

Justin’s tone was set on helping him!

Ian Kane didn’t look back at him, stepping up the stairs.

...

The creamy white door was pushed open from outside.

Vera instantly tensed up, glaring warily at the doorway.

A tall, stern silhouette appeared in the light and shadow.

It was Ian Kane, who should’ve completely disappeared from her world.

The man, impeccably dressed in a suit, his pale skin stark under the indoor lighting, eyes deeply set.

His face showed no expression, his eyes indifferent as he took long strides, walking towards her.

Leather shoes thudded on the carpet, carrying an oppressive weight.

Vera couldn’t help but straighten her back, her whole body on guard, staring at him with cold eyes.