The Divorced Heiress Revenge (Bella Thompson) novel Chapter 2431

“If my condition acts up, I’ll take the pill.” Jace stared at the pill in his palm with a cold expression, his gaze blank and distant.

“The Boss instructed me to make sure you take it,” Clarice replied, her smile sharp and mocking.

Jace’s brows furrowed as a chill ran through him. “Why?”

“It’s the Boss’s order. Why bother asking?” Clarice’s eyes gleamed with malice. Her smirk was wicked. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid the Boss wants to harm you? Have you lost faith in him?”

Jace’s breath caught in his throat. “No.”

“Jace, you swore an oath to the Boss. Don’t you remember that you promised to serve him loyally for life no matter what happens?” Clarice raised her chin, her voice cold and disdainful.

“Even if he handed you poison, you should just swallow it without a second thought. Isn’t that what you pledged to? So why are you hesitating now? Don’t disappoint him, Jace.”

The overwhelming pressure grew unbearable.

Jace felt as if the cold barrel of a gun were pressed against his back, forcing him closer to the edge of a cliff. One more step, and he would plummet into a bottomless abyss, shattering on the rocks below.

His jaw tightened as he opened the pill bottle.

Under Clarice’s sharp gaze, he took a pill and swallowed it.

“Good. Always remember that you belong to the Boss. Never forget where your loyalty lies.”

With that, Clarice chuckled mockingly, her posture haughty as she turned and walked away.

Jace kept a neutral expression as he moved forward.

Though everything seemed normal, his pace hastened.

Once out of the surveillance cameras’ sight, he took off in a sprint. Hurrying into the restroom, he locked the door and knelt by the toilet. His bloodshot eyes widened as he thrust his fingers deep into his throat.

“Urgh—!”

Jace’s broad back arched in pain as his body convulsed violently. With a guttural retch, the blue pill tumbled out of his throat and fell into the toilet bowl.

His entire body trembled, his face streaked with cold, sticky saliva. Jace looked utterly disheveled. Bloodshot eyes betrayed a depth of exhaustion and torment never seen before.

But then, he smiled.

For the first time in years, he smiled—a genuine, heartfelt smile.

Unbeknownst to him, at that moment, his smile bore an uncanny resemblance to the strikingly handsome gentleman in the Thompson family portrait hanging in the grand hall of Yara Park.

*

As night fell, Grant welcomed his prominent guests at Savrow’s most exclusive club in its most luxurious private room.

He swirled a glass of rare, expensive wine that had been acquired at auction.

Surrounding him were Savrow’s high-society elite, including Theodore, the councilman overseeing the A5 project bid.

“A man in a black trench coat barged into the club!” the secretary stammered. “He’s taken out all our men and injured them badly! He’s like some kind of demon!”

Clarice frowned, puzzled. “A black trench coat?”

Before she could finish, a piercing scream rang out, shattering the tense silence.

A stray bullet whizzed through the air, striking the secretary in the leg.

He collapsed with a cry as the room erupted into chaos.

Clarice froze in fear, stumbling backward in a daze.

Grant’s hand trembled slightly as he held his teacup. Veins bulged on the back of his hand, and his expression darkened.

Beneath his calm exterior, a savage, feral energy seemed ready to explode.

Then, a tall, imposing figure entered the room, moving with deliberate pace.

The lavish space, once filled with elites, now felt like a somber, deserted graveyard.

The man came alone, yet he exuded the overwhelming presence of a predator.

He wore a black mask, and his dark bangs swept across his forehead. His piercing eyes, sharp as daggers, remained fixed on Grant as he approached.