"Sir! Ah-!" Just as Clarice was about to rush to Grant's aid, two loud gunshots suddenly went off right at her feet. The startling explosions made her shriek in alarm and dive under the table, clutching her head like a frightened dog.

Murderous intent filled the air, stifling and unavoidable.

Grant had long considered himself the king of the shadows. He had endured countless challenges, each more treacherous than the last. Yet, an uncontrollable sense of dread seized Grant's heart as this man approached. His fingers clutched the sofa's armrest as the fear of impending death washed over him.

"All of you. Get out!" The man's voice was cold, his gaze locked solely on Grant.

The guests scrambled to their feet in a panic, fleeing like terrified animals.

"Help! Somebody!" Still crouching under the coffee table, Clarice cried out desperately for help, but no one came.

Everyone who could have responded lay injured outside, barely alive.

Suddenly, the man raised his arm and fired again, shattering the coffee table into a cascade of glass shards that rained down on Clarice, slicing her face, legs, and arms and leaving a trail of gruesome, bloody cuts.

Pain shot through her body like lightning. Her scalp prickled and her limbs quivered violently.

frozen stiff with fear. One wrong

The man approached Grant.

instinctively, only to get brutally kicked in the chest, sending him and the sofa

Grant's face went pale as he

gun was

range, Grant finally recognized him, though he had known it

Drew..." Grant

steadily, his grip on the gun unflinching. He pulled off his black mask, revealing his face as he stared down

missing wife." Drew's voice was low, each word was filled with murderous intent. "You crippled bastard, hand her over! Give me

listened, her heart pounding so hard it felt

tracked them

dealings with Justin and Bella were no

his wife how they had tormented her what unimaginable revenge would

spine. Clarice clamped her hands over her

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