Chapter 274

The man's real name was Logan Grant. But to Erica,he was only ever "Vincent." That was the name she insisted on-nothing else would do. He'd been handpicked, molded, and conditioned into the perfect step-in of Vincent for her.

When Erica whispered, "Kiss me," Logan responded instantly, bending toward her with practiced submission and just the slightest flicker of desperation, sealing his lips to hers.

His mouth felt cold. Every movement was a flawless imitation, refined by endless rehearsals to match exactly how Erica believed Vincent should kiss-steady, commanding, with a cool reserve beneath the surface.

Erica let her eyelids flutter closed, melting into the kiss. A soft sound of pleasure escaped her, her body yielding to the moment.

But then, Logan's throat moved, and he murmured her name in a low voice, "Erica..."

"Hush!" she snapped, eyes flying open and snuffing out all warmth in a heartbeat.

Her nail pressed sharply against his lips, biting into the flesh as a warning. "Quiet. Don't say a word," she hissed, her tone as chilling as ice. "The second you start talking, you're not him anymore."

Surgery had already given Logan Vincent's face-an eerie likeness, except for the eyes. This was why she always made him wear the blindfold.

Logan stiffened, all desire draining away, leaving behind nothing but raw fear and obedience. He swallowed hard, smothering both the urge to speak and every last shred of the real Logan Grant.

Sensing his renewed obedience, Erica's hunger returned, wild and blazing, satisfaction and madness tangled together.

She seized his face and kissed him again, this time

rougher, nearly savage.

When she finally pulled away, her breathing was ragged, her cheeks flushed with feverish excitement."I'm in a good mood today," she murmured, voice trembling with manic delight. "Let's do it right here."

She was more than ready to savor her own private Vincent Jones.

A few days later, the long-awaited report of Hannah's company's lingerie-commissioned from a top-tier agency-finally dropped.

The verdict was crystal clear: the products not only passed every national safety standard, but they outperformed sev/eral brands within the same market on several key measures. The "toxic lingerie" scandal was exposed as nothing more than a baseless,spiteful attack.

That same day, Hannah uploaded the full report to her company's official account and her personal one,

pinning it to the top.

The post set off another surge of online chatter.

Without wasting a minute, Hannah printed out the report and headed straight to the police station. She pressed for updates on the three women who had stirred things up. Their appearance had coincided too perfectly with the smear campaign-someone had clearly orchestrated it. If she could get them to talk, maybe she'd finally find out who was really pulling the strings. And that mysterious fire from before? Was it somehow connected too?

But the officer's response was a gut punch. "Ms.Scott, I'm sorry to tell you this, but two days ago,those three women got into a violent brawl while detained. By the time we intervened, all of them had suffered critical injuries. None of them made it."

"A fight? All three of them?" Hannah's voice was tight with disbelief. "No warning signs? No evidence of anyone else involved?"

She couldn't accept it. Was the whole lead gone just

like that?

The officer let out a tired sigh. "Everything we've collected, from the scene itself to the statements from their cellmates, points to ongoing grudges among those three women. Things spiraled and ended in tragedy. There's no solid proof anyone else was involved. Admittedly, it feels a little too neat. Still,we're closing the file as a mutual assault that turned fatal."

Hannah let out a low, bitter sigh. "How convenient."

This wasn't some random tragedy. It was a clean sweep-a calculated erasure, done with chilling precision.

A storm of frustration and despair churned inside her. She'd been on the verge of real answers, and now everything had gone cold.

Hannah turned to go, but barely made it down the hall before her eyes landed-almost by accident-on a familiar silhouette in the waiting area, stopping her in her tracks.

He stood there with his back to her, voice low as he spoke with an officer. The precise cut of his black coat emphasized the strength in his framne, giving off a subtle but unmistakable authority, even from behind.

She wondered why Vincent was here.

Almost as if he sensed her staring, Vincent wrapped up his conversation. The officer nodded respectfully and stepped away.

Vincent turned around, and his eyes locked onto hers from across the room.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The silence thickened.

In the end, it was Hannah who broke the silence.She drew a steady breath and closed the distance,halting just a single step in front of him. "Mr. Jones, I never got to thank you for the other day," she said,her voice steady but marked by a gentle formality.She meant the shoes and the coat he'd sent her.

Vincent's eyes lingered on her face for a moment before his usual stoic expression returned. There was the faintest curve at the corner of his lips-barely there. "Don't mention it. I didn't do much," he replied,voice cool and distant.

Without pause, he shifted gears. "Claude's always liked the direct route." He hesitated for only a beat.Then, in a voice stiff with formality, he added,"Congratulations."

A single word, uttered with a rigid, almost ceremonial formality.