The Divorced Heiress Revenge (Bella Thompson) novel Chapter 2432

“Sir! Ah—!” Just as Clarice was about to rush to Grant’s aid, two loud gunshots suddenly went off right at her feet. The startling explosions made her shriek in alarm and dive under the table, clutching her head like a frightened dog.

Murderous intent filled the air, stifling and unavoidable.

Grant had long considered himself the king of the shadows. He had endured countless challenges, each more treacherous than the last.

Yet, an uncontrollable sense of dread seized Grant’s heart as this man approached. His fingers clutched the sofa’s armrest as the fear of impending death washed over him.

“All of you. Get out!” The man’s voice was cold, his gaze locked solely on Grant.

The guests scrambled to their feet in a panic, fleeing like terrified animals.

“Help! Somebody!” Still crouching under the coffee table, Clarice cried out desperately for help, but no one came.

Everyone who could have responded lay injured outside, barely alive.

Suddenly, the man raised his arm and fired again, shattering the coffee table into a cascade of glass shards that rained down on Clarice, slicing her face, legs, and arms and leaving a trail of gruesome, bloody cuts.

Pain shot through her body like lightning. Her scalp prickled and her limbs quivered violently.

She was on the brink of losing it, frozen stiff with fear. One wrong move and this terrifying man would surely end her.

The man approached Grant.

Grant’s eyes darted about as he recoiled instinctively, only to get brutally kicked in the chest, sending him and the sofa skidding back several meters.

“Ugh—!” Grant’s face went pale as he clutched his chest, coughing uncontrollably.

In an instant, the man’s gun was pressed against Grant’s head.

At this close range, Grant finally recognized him, though he had known it was him all along.

“Young Master Drew…” Grant said.

“I don’t know.” The moment the words left Grant’s mouth, the deafening roar of a gunshot filled the room, so loud it almost ruptured his eardrums.

Grant let out a deafening cry as the bullet ripped through him. He felt the pain burning through him like wildfire. His body convulsed as he clutched his mangled ear, blood gushing out.

Clarice was paralyzed with terror, unable to even scream.

The blood dripped steadily, creating a growing crimson pool on the floor.

His usual gentle face was nowhere to be seen, replaced with a mask of pain and anger.

“Sir… Sir…” Clarice's muffled voice was barely audible as she addressed him. Her once confident boss looked wretched. She had never witnessed Grant in such a degraded and defeated state.

This grotesque image of Grant would be forever seared into her memory, haunting her for the rest of her life.