Chapter 342

Seeing Evelyn safe, Adrian finally let out the breath he'd been holding. Just as he relaxed, his gaze landed on the girl standing beside her.

"Who's this?" he asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Noelle glared at him sharply, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Adrian took a closer look at her then.

She was delicate, almost fragile. He reached out instinctively, ruffling her hair. "Don't worry. We'll find your family soon."

To his surprise, Noelle jerked away from his touch.

"Don't touch me!"

Adrian blinked, taken aback by her ferocity. "You're just a kid, aren't you?"

That seemed to ignite something in her. "I'm nineteen!"

Nineteen?

Adrian studied her again—petite frame, youthful features. But he didn't argue. "You shouldn't wander alone. The world's dangerous. Lucky for you, we found you first."

His voice dropped lower. "Traffickers would've sold you off or worse—harvested your organs."

Noelle's face paled, her hands clenched into fists.

Adrian frowned. "Hey, you okay? You look sick—"

Before he could finish, Noelle's knees buckled. He caught her just in time.

"Noelle? Wake up!"

No response. Panic rising, he rushed her to the hospital.

The examination revealed lash marks crisscrossing her back, the wounds raw and bleeding through her clothes.

Yet she hadn't made a single sound.

Adrian's hands shook with rage. "What kind of monsters would do this to a girl?"

Evelyn's voice was ice. "Traffickers deserve worse than prison. They deserve hell."

Her mind flashed to Damian Castillo, still at large. She'd make sure he paid.

Outside, a convoy of Bentleys pulled up.

A butler hurried to open the middle car's door.

"Mr. Winslow, she's inside."

Anthony Winslow stepped out, his expression unreadable. Bodyguards flanked him as he strode into the hospital.

When the director led him to the ward, Evelyn and Adrian exchanged glances.

The armed entourage told Evelyn everything—this man wasn't just wealthy. He was power personified.

Anthony spoke first. "Ms. Carter, I presume?"

Evelyn's breath hitched. "Do I know you?"

A business card appeared in the butler's hand, offered to her.

"Anthony Winslow."

The name sent a jolt through her. Then she read the card—and froze.