Chapter 623

The custom-built door burst apart with a deafening crash, fragments scattering across the floor.

From beyond the wreckage, a presence radiating raw menace crossed the threshold, the air itself seeming to contract in fear.

Vincent's expression was stormy, his gaze instantly locking onto Hannah. Without wasting a motion, he merely lifted his hand in a brief, deliberate gesture.

Nate and the bodyguards behind Vincent reacted instantly. Surging forward, they overpowered Rodney and forced him facedown with ease.

"Who the hell are you? Let go of me! Do you even know who my father is? The nerve of you treating me this way! He'll make you regret it!" Rodney roared, thrashing futilely under their grip.

"You're being too noisy," Vincent said, his tone laced with ice.

Catching the signal at once, Nate grabbed a towel from the floor and shoved it roughly into Rodney's mouth to silence him.

Vincent crouched beside Hannah. The reprimand that had risen to his lips died the instant he saw her disheveled state. Words deserted him entirely.

Recognition flickered in Hannah's eyes. The knife she had clutched so tightly slipped from her trembling fingers, clattering against the floor.

Then, her body collapsed forward, her forehead resting weakly against his shoulder as a faint murmur escaped her lips. "You finally came... I've been waiting for you."

The quiet statement struck directly at the most unguarded place in Vincent's heart. In that single moment,reason shattered-his fragmented memory, their failed marriage, the complications-all of it disintegrated.

For the first time, he had felt his heart dissolve into a vulnerable warmth under the weight of her trust. He

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froze briefly and then instinctively drew her trembling frame into a careful embrace.

...

Vincent swiftly lifted Hannah and carried her to his car, laying her tenderly across the back seat. He noticed blood seeping from her palms, the cut clean and deep-a telltale sign that she had gripped the knife's edge on purpose.

He understood instantly. She had used pain as her last defense against the drug, fighting to remain conscious. A sharp ache tore through his chest at the realization.

Without hesitation, he yanked off his tie and wrapped it firmly around her injured hands to stop the bleeding.

IHannah's mind blurred further under the drug's influence, her strength waning. Fever heat rolled off her skin as she shifted restlessly in his arms, unable to stay still. Her fingers twitched upward unconsciously,trembling as she began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

Vincent caught her wrist firmly."Don't move."

"I'm not comfortable... It's burning..." she murmured, her voice trembling, tugging at her blouse.

Once again, he restrained her, his eyes darkening wvith turmoil. He could tell-the drug had taken full hold.Raising his head, he gave a curt order to the driver."Derek, faster."

"Yes, Mr. Jones!" Derek responded, flooring the accelerator as the car tore through the night.

Before long, they arrived at Sterling Heights.

Derek, reading the situation, chose not to follow them upstairs.

Vincent lifted Hannah, who clung desperately to him, whispering incoherent fragments that told him her apartment was on the twenty-second floor.

But when they reached the apartment door, it became clear she couldn't enter-she was far too dazed to speak the password, and even her fingerprints failed to unlock the sensor.

Hannah's gaze never left him. She held onto him tightly, lifting her face toward his in a feverish attempt to

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kiss him, her focus utterly consumed by him.

Vincent's composure frayed as her soft body pressed against him, her warmth seeping through his restraint, leaving him with no clear escape from the chaos of desire and conscience.

Then, a flash of memory surfaced-Derek had once mentioned he owned an apartment here. He immediately pulled out his phone. "Derek, which floor is my unit at Sterling Heights?"

"Mr. Jones," Derek replied quickly, "it's right below Ms. Scott's-twenty-first floor, unit twenty-one-zero-one.The password should be the one you usually use."

Without another thought, Vincent turned and descended one floor, Hannah still in his arms. The door unlocked with a soft electronic tone as he entered the familiar code.

He walked inside but paused after a few steps, taking in the scene.

The apartment radiated warmth-a comforting simplicity touched with traces of femininity: patterned cushions on the couch, thriving plants by the window, and glossy fashion magazines scattered across the coffee table.

It didn't align with the austere, minimalist taste he thought was his own. Instead, it felt intimate, as though he had once shared it with someone he cherished.Could this place really be the home he'd prepared just to pursue Hannah?

The question had barely formed when Hannah, eyes clouded with longing, suddenly pushed him hard against the door. "I can't hold it back anymor111she whispered, standing on tiptoe as her palms framed his face,her gaze dazed and fervent.

Before he could react, her lips crashed against his-urgent, unrestrained, and burning with desperation.

Vincent froze, his thoughts scattering into silence.

Her kiss was wild, her tongue forcing its way past his parted lips, seeking him, tasting him, consuming the air between them.

His entire body went rigid; self-control wavered for a heartbeat, and against his will, he found himself

answering her kiss-helplessly, instinctively, drawn into the storm she had become.