Chapter 737 The Snake and the Farmer

    Chapter 737 The Snake and the Farmer

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    Jordan made a quick call to the police, hinting that it would be safer to check inside despite the

    dead meters.

    The property manager still had the keys.

    So, under police supervision, the manager unlocked all three doors on the thirtieth floor.

    To everyone’s surprise, the apartments were empty. No trace of life inside, only the damp, stale smell of long disuse.

    It wasn’t a trick.

    Wyatt, waiting on another floor to ambush Margaret if she emerged, had his n shattered.

    Then Jordan’s voice came through the phone, heavy with defeat. “Wyatt, we may have guessed wrong.”

    Yes–Margaret had fed them a false lead.

    They had assumed every dead zone was her hiding ce.

    But Margaret was clever. She would move.

    Even Yunice’s carefully dropped pearls could have been something Margaret allowed, a lure to draw Wyatt into her trap.

    The truth was simpler and crueller: Margaret only needed to block the signal in Yunice’s immediate space. That was enough to make her vanish into the void.

    It really was like searching for a needle in the ocean.

    Wyatt stared at the hallway’s cameras, his heart plummeting.

    Margaret must have seen everything just now.

    She knew they weren’t following her terms. She knew they were searching.

    Yunice’s danger had just multiplied.

    On the 29th floor, Margaret lowered her gaze from the peephole after watching the police and

    Chapter 737 The Snake and the Farmer

    property manager pass by.

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    She turned back, calm, and walked over to Yunice. Sitting down, she said softly, “Wyatt is here, looking for you.”

    “But he never imagined you were this close to him.”

    “Too bad. You’ll miss each other.”

    Yunicey on the bed, her face steady.

    After nearly twenty hours, the wound on her shoulder had begun to heal. It no longer bled.

    Yesterday, at the hospital’s reopening ceremony, she had worn a new white suit. Thepel had been adorned with tiny pearls.

    When Margaret stabbed her, the de cut through the thread, half–severing the line of pearls.

    Weakened by the anesthetic, Yunice had no strength. As Margaret dragged her away, the thread finally snapped, scattering the pearls one by one along the way–like silent markers.

    Yunice had thought Margaret hadn’t noticed. But once they reached the 30th floor of the IRS building, Margaret had taken off her jacket.

    Then, with a gentle smile, she said, “Your jacket’s thread came loose, dropping pearls all along the way. I picked them up for you. I’ll fix it and give it back.”

    Her expression in that moment had been tender, like the days when she’d cared for Yunice as a child.

    Only then did Yunice realize–she had never truly seen through Margaret.

    Bound to the bed, Yunice wasn’t cowed by the threat. Instead, she asked curiously, “You’re so clever, so calcting. Why did you ever agree to my arrangement with Paul? With your brains, you could have stopped it.”

    Margaret replied, “Silly girl. Did you think your arrangement was really the Powell family repaying your father? They wanted what was in his head. They wanted him working for them. You were nothing more than a hostage in the bargain.”

    Yunice had long suspected as much.

    “iSo /iyou thought the same? You figured it benefited Paul, so you let it happen? My father saved your life and your son’s, and in return you bled us dry? Is that it?”

    Chapter 737 The Snake and the Farmer

    At that moment, Yunice stood on the moral high ground. Margaret fell silent.

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    Human nature was never simple. Years ago, wracked by a difficultbor, Margaret had clutched Will’s sleeve and begged him to save her.

    She hadn’t signed any waiver. Will had risked his career, his life, to save her.

    And when she lived, she had wept with gratitude, showered him with thanks–then turned around and let the Powells use him and Yunice as bargaining chips.

    The tale of the farmer and the snake was no different.

    After a long silence, Margaret finally raised her eyes. “Yes, I used you. But in those years, the Powells didn’t treat you and your father so badly either. It was you who kept pressing Paul, cornering him step by step. Did you kill him? Otherwise, why won’t Wyatt meet my terms? Why is he tearing the city apart looking for me?”

    Her gaze red red, burning with anger, as if convinced Yunice had deceived her.