?Chapter 216:

    As Katelyn exined, she turned herptop screen towards Vincent, showing him a screenshot of a recent bill. The photographer had been truthful. Someone had employed him for cross-border work, and he emailed the photos to his employer each time.

    Vincent squinted as he noted the bank details silently. “I’ll have Samuel look into this,” he dered softly.

    “Okay,” Katelyn responded, giving him a nod. She continued, “I suspect he might not be the only one snapping photos of us, though I don’t have solid proof yet.”

    “I’ll uncover the truth and update you as soon as possible.” Vincent, leaning back, tapped his knee thoughtfully, his eyes shadowed with concern.

    Katelyn closed herptop with a nod and signaled okay with her hand.

    The car was filled with the soft strains of piano music, providing a soothing backdrop to their silent journey. She didn’t find the silence awkward, lost in the music’s flow. The car pulled up to the Adams Group building shortly after. “I need to pick up some documents from my car. You go ahead upstairs,” Katelyn said as she searched her bag.

    “Okay,” Vincent agreed with a nod.

    They parked at the gate. Katelyn headed directly to the underground parking lot. Her garage housed a collection of luxury cars worth millions, and she drove a different one each day, even keeping one at thepany’s parking lot.

    Today, she was headed for the Maserati, where thetest design drafts were stored. It was nearing evening, and the parking lot was sparsely popted. As Katelyn walked through the dimming light, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following her.

    Katelyn deliberately slowed her walk, noticing her stalker mimicking her pace, thinking it would keep them hidden. Instead, it made them more noticeable.

    Katelyn nced down at the approaching shadow, pulling out her phone to send a quick message. She intended to alert Vincent.

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    Before she could send it, the stalker burst forward, a bottle in hand.

    Reacting swiftly, Katelyn turned to face her assant. She recognized the attacker as the woman thepany had dismissed just days ago.

    The woman’s bottle was uncapped, reeking of a strong chemical.

    Through clenched teeth, the woman spat out, “You bitch! It’s all your fault. Why don’t you go to hell?”

    Gripping the bottle, Katelyn retorted coldly, “You deserve it.” Though an apology might have resolved their conflict, the woman had chosen confrontation.

    ming Katelyn for her dismissal, the woman was now frantic, having spent over a decade building a life here, only for it to crumble to dust.

    Samuel had exposed her crimes, leaving her with nowhere to go in the city.

    Driven by desperation, she screamed, “Bitch, go to hell! Go to hell!” over and over.

    She lunged, aiming to pour the bottle’s contents—high-concentration sulfuric acid—onto Katelyn’s face, trying to disfigure her and prevent any further influence at their workce.

    Convinced of her twisted sense of justice, the woman’s attacks grew fiercer.

    Katelyn wrestled for control of the bottle, their hands grappling and jostling, causing some of the acid to spill and hiss against the ground.

    Without a moment’s hesitation, Katelyn delivered a forceful kick to the woman’s stomach.

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