Chapter 483

Beatrice Quincy's office door was kicked open with a violent crash.

Evelyn Laurent strode in with measured steps, the hem of her black trench coat flaring like a panther ready to strike.

"You—" Beatrice scrambled up from behind her desk, her wineglass slipping from her fingers and staining the cashmere rug crimson.

Evelyn seized her wrist.

"Ah!" Beatrice cried out as the bones creaked under the pressure.

"Evelyn, have you lost your mind? This is Quincy Enterprises!" Beatrice thrashed, her carefully styled curls now tangled against her face.

Ignoring her, Evelyn dragged her toward the exit.

"Help! Security!" Beatrice's shrieks echoed down the hallway.

A dozen guards rushed in, stun guns gleaming.

"Release Ms. Quincy!" the lead guard barked.

Evelyn smirked, pinning Beatrice against the wall with one hand while drawing a butterfly knife from her coat with the other.

The blade traced a cold arc under the lights.

"Tell Reginald Quincy," she whispered into Beatrice's ear, her voice deceptively soft, "if he dares lay a finger on Ethan Sullivan again—"

The tip of the knife grazed Beatrice's throat, leaving a thin red line.

"—I'll make sure he buries his own child."

Beatrice trembled, the scent of expensive perfume mingling with cold sweat.

Evelyn sheathed the knife and abruptly gripped Beatrice's chin. "Your brother's number."

With shaking hands, Beatrice recited the digits.

The moment Evelyn turned away, Beatrice's face twisted into something vicious.

"Kill her!"

The electric hum of stun guns filled the air.

Without looking back, Evelyn sidestepped the attack, her coat flaring to reveal the glint of steel at her waist.

Bang!

The first guard was sent flying, shattering a glass display case three meters away.

Before the others could react, they watched their comrades drop one by one.

Evelyn planted her boot on the last guard's chest and picked up a fallen stun gun.

"Seems Ms. Quincy has a poor memory."

In a flash, the weapon was pressed to Beatrice's throat.

"N-not my orders..." Beatrice collapsed, her makeup smeared.

Evelyn looked down at her, then smiled—a chilling sight.

"Next time, it'll be your eyes."

She turned toward the elevator as Beatrice's sobs echoed behind her.

As the doors closed, Evelyn pulled out her phone and dialed the number she'd just memorized.

"Xander Quincy. We need to talk."