Chapter 687

Chapter 687:

Such was the natural order: the weak bow before the strong.

“Sir, may I ask you a question?” Jorge ventured.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m curious about your connection to Mr. Welch.”

Vernon’s expression turned cold, and his hand struck Jorge’s face with lightning speed.

Though Jorge’s instincts screamed to retaliate, one glance at Vernon’s icy stare made him swallow his rage and endure the blow.

“How dare you!” Vernon spat.

“Sorry, I overstepped,” Jorge apologized, his voice low.

Vernon felt a twinge of anxiety. Jorge’s suspicion lingered. If this continued, his facade would eventually crack.

“Enough. We’re leaving. Have your men clear the path,” Vernon commanded, turning toward his vehicle. But the wall of bodyguards remained unmoved.

“What now? Do you really want me to call Mateo over?”

“Sir, you’ve mentioned Mr. Welch repeatedly, yet refused to tell me your relationship with him. You’ve put me in quite the bind,” Jorge said, raising his head, his gaze darkening.

Vernon’s heart stuttered. Was he going to be exposed?

But before panic could fully take root, Jorge’s next words made his anxiety spike even further.

“I’m accompanying an important person to the Welch family today. If you truly have such close ties to Mr. Welch, how could you be unaware of this?”

Vernon’s composure shattered like glass.

𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝘆: 𝗀ⱥ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝗌﹒ⅽ𝗈𝗺

Though he tried to mask his panic, Jorge had caught that flicker of fear. “So, you’re nothing but a fraud. Guys, teach him a lesson,” Jorge demanded. The circle of bodyguards closed in, like wolves around their prey.

“Alright! You really are something. I’ll call Mateo right now.” Vernon fumbled for his phone, his hand hovering uncertainly over the keypad, but he had no number to dial.

Jorge’s earlier humiliation burned like acid. In Cloverhill, reputation was everything—he had to reclaim his dignity.

“Attack!”

A guard lunged forward, the baton whistling through the air toward Vernon’s skull.

But in that heartbeat between life and death, a figure emerged from the car with fluid grace, catching the weapon mid-strike and sending the attacker flying with a precise kick.

Vernon’s voice cracked with emotion at the sight of his savior, but remembering their cover, he quickly corrected himself. “Sir!”

Jorge studied the newcomer with calculating eyes, a frown etching deep lines across his forehead.

The mysterious figure commanded an undeniable presence—tall, powerfully built, radiating authority even through the shield of dark glasses and a face mask.

In that charged moment, Janice emerged from the vehicle, and the very atmosphere seemed to shift.

Beneath her golden mask, her bright eyes and subtly curved crimson lips radiated an aura of nobility that commanded the scene.

Jorge, a notorious womanizer who had seen countless beauties, could tell from just those glimpses that she possessed rare and extraordinary grace.

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