In the alleyway’s corner, the small car, hemmed in by several motorcycles, lay crumpled, its driver beaten to a pulp and tossed to the curb.
Alkaid sneered. "They've got some nerve, trying to stage a car crash for our boss. Pathetic."
The driver couldn't even speak; his teeth were all knocked out! He couldn't understand it. Vincent had said it was just some high school kid they were dealing with, right? The car wasn't even a luxury model, so how did that girl get so lucky?
He had rammed her several times, his own hood was bent out of shape, yet Noella's car was still pristine, not a scratch on it!
From the entrance of the alley, a few guys suddenly showed up and grabbed the driver off the ground.
The leader whispered, "Are you guys sent by Mr. Pollack to protect Ms. Noella? We're Jasper's crew, here to ensure Ms. Noella's safety at all times!"
Alkaid nodded immediately. "Ah yes, yes, we're Mr. Pollack's guys."
Their boss didn't like revealing her identity in front of the Schnabel family, and Alkaid understood. After all, their boss had swindled so much money from the Schnabels, she certainly didn't want to get caught!
Such a con artist, truly despicable.
"Hand him over to us then, unless Mr. Pollack has other orders? Jasper's got plans for this guy on our end."
Hearing Jasper had other uses for the guy, Alkaid agreed, "No worries, take him. He'd be no use to us except for maybe fertilizer... What's Jasper planning, if I may ask?"
"Ha, you'll see when the time comes!"
...
In the gallery office, time seemed to stand still as Palmer continued to hold Noella in his arms, showing no sign of letting go.
A cough broke the silence. "Ahem, the youth these days, no sense of propriety, eh?"
Master Killian could hardly stand to watch the two of them entwined. He had been waiting in Noella's office, gaming until he was too tired and decided to catch some sleep in the adjoining rest room. But upon waking, he was greeted by the sight of these two in an embrace, with no intention of parting!
Palmer reluctantly let go, but not before planting a swift kiss on Noella's forehead—a fleeting touch.
"Sorry, Master Killian, didn't see you come in."
Master Killian rolled his eyes. "Oh, cut it out. If you two can't even notice an extra person in the room, you might as well be six feet under."
One was the head of the Abyssal Organization, the other of the Obelisk Organization. If they lacked even that level of alertness, they'd be better off dead, fertilizer in some forgotten corner.
They obviously knew he was there but chose to ignore him!
Kids these days, no sense of subtlety.
"Is everything sorted outside? The space across the gallery looks good. A little makeover, and it could be quite useful."
Master Killian glanced at Palmer, seemingly satisfied with his actions.
If the lad had dared to side with that peacock of a woman earlier, Master Killian would've called up the old timers from the Polaris Star to give Palmer a good thrashing!
Noella nodded. "It's settled. I need to visit Lockhart Prison tomorrow. If you need anything, Ivan can assist you."
Killian waved the thought away. "Go ahead. Hector's coming to Imperial City in a few days; just be back by then."
"I'll be here."
Palmer was surprised to hear the name Hector.
In the heart of Tranquility City, within the walls of the grand Lambert Mansion, Vincent paced with a phone in his hand, a bead of sweat making its way down his temple. He was waiting for that crucial call confirming that his carefully orchestrated plans had come to fruition.
The moment his phone rang, Vincent nearly leapt out of his skin.
"Is it done? Did you get it?" he asked, voice laced with a mix of anticipation and dread.
"Got it. You had me all worried for nothing. There was no need for any car accident. I told the girl that Mr. Lambert wanted her bracelet, and she agreed—only she wants that osmanthus ornament from Old Mrs. Lambert's room in exchange. Mr. Lambert, do you have it?"
Old Mrs. Lambert had a fondness for osmanthus, and there was indeed an inconsequential ornament in her room resembling the fragrant flower. It amounted to nothing more than a chiseled piece of rock, utterly worthless in monetary terms.
Vincent's suspicions perked up. "She agreed to trade, just like that?"
The bracelet was a veritable fortune. How could the girl be willing to trade it for a mere piece of junk?
"Yeah. She said she found the stone in the garden years ago and carved it herself. It's not pricey, but she claims it's important to her. I bet she has no clue about the bracelet's real value. Lucky for us, there wasn't any accident; the bracelet could have been destroyed!"
The very thought of harm coming to the bracelet sent a shiver of anxiety through Vincent. "The bracelet is safe, right?"
"It's fine. So, are we trading or what, Mr. Lambert?"
Vincent hesitated, then stood and made his way to the room once occupied by Old Mrs. Lambert. He picked up the osmanthus ornament from the tabletop. "Tell her we'll trade. I’m leaving now to get this thing appraised first."
He wasn't going to be played for a fool. He wouldn't be outwitted by some slip of a girl, just in case this trinket was of any significant value.
Vincent ended the call and, with gritted teeth, paid a pretty penny to get in touch with a renowned expert from the world of antiques, sending a picture of the osmanthus ornament to him.
[Master Yasbel, would you mind taking a look at this piece and letting me know if we've got treasure on our hands?]
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