Chapter 80

Vincent King stood at the private room's entrance, his fingertips trembling slightly.

He recognized the two men inside.

The dark-skinned, gaunt Lucas Lynch was the hit-and-run driver who had injured Candy Wilson earlier that day. The purple-haired gang leader in ripped leather? He had kidnapped Candy just last month.

Yet there Candy sat, laughing and clinking glasses between them.

"Mr. King..." Nathan Foster hesitated before handing over the tablet.

On screen, Candy beamed as she poured liquor for Lucas, patting his shoulder affectionately. This was no victim-perpetrator dynamic.

Ethan Sullivan yanked the bound Lucas up by the collar, grinding his polished shoe into the man's face.

"Look familiar?" Ethan sneered. "Nathan tailed Candy and caught a big fish."

Lucas' eyes darted nervously. "Miss Wilson ordered the hit! The bank records—"

"Bullshit!" Ethan's kick silenced him. "You're cozy with Candy in that video, now you play dumb?"

The tablet clattered before Lucas. The damning footage of their toast left him ashen.

"Mr. King, save me!" He lunged at Vincent. "I work for Miss Wilson!"

The words stabbed Vincent's heart like a blade.

He stared down at the man who'd once testified against Susan Thompson. Every piece of evidence had been an elaborate lie.

Ethan cradled Susan's limp body, eyes bloodshot as he brushed past. "You're blind, Vincent."

Vincent stood frozen.

Susan's bloodied sleeve grazed his suit. Drops from her severed finger stained his polished shoes. That searing crimson made his heart constrict.

"To the hospital." Ethan's voice shook with restraint. "We'll settle this later."

As the black Maybach vanished into the night, Vincent remained. Winter winds swirled snowflakes around the tablet buzzing in his grip.

The frozen frame showed Candy raising her glass, crimson nails resting intimately on Lucas' shoulder.