Chapter 579

Grant ended the call, swiftly blocking the number before pivoting to dial Oliver. He had done his homework on Oliver before their meeting and knew his cell number by heart. Above all, he was well aware that Oliver was not a morning person.

If Grant had his peace disturbed, then so should Oliver. Misery loved company, after all.

It took two rings before a groggy voice answered on the other end. Oliver's tone was anything but pleasant, and instantly, Grant felt a surge of satisfaction.

"Oliver, who on earth have you ticked off? Last night, someone reached out wanting to team up with me to take you down. They called me again this morning with a whole plan in place to make their move. And here you are, still playing house with Rosa. I doubt she'll want to marry a corpse. You should break it off, for her sake."

Oliver was suddenly wide awake, sitting upright, phone in hand. "Who's coming after me?"

"I don't have a clue who it is, but they're out to get you. With all the enemies you've got, sticking with Rosa is just dragging her into danger."

Oliver hadn't expected them to go after Grant.

"Thanks for the heads-up, Grant. But I'm not handing Josie over to you."

Grant was momentarily speechless.

"I'm not taking advantage of the situation. I'm just worried about Rosa's safety. If you can't protect her, you should let her go. She means more than your own safety."

Oliver leaned against the headboard, the lamplight casting sharp shadows across his chiseled features, giving him an air of detached coolness.

"Appreciate the concern, Grant."

"It's not for you—it's for Rosa," Grant retorted before hanging up.

Oliver, clutching his phone, couldn't find sleep again.

He got out of bed and called Asher.

The sound of the ringing phone jolted Asher from his slumber. Recognizing the caller ID, he snapped to attention, skipping any potential curse words.

"Mr. Oliver."

"Find out who Grant's been in touch with since he got back to his hotel. And I want a thorough check."

"On it, Mr. Oliver!" Asher was taken aback.

He hopped out of bed, barking orders and making a beeline to the hotel himself.

Within half an hour, the man who

had dared disturb Grant's peace was

hauled before aliver a swollen

beaten mess sprawled on the floor

like a discarded rag doll.

As the man slowly lifted his head and locked eyes with Oliver's icy glare, he was struck with terror.

"Oliver!" He was genuinely frightened.

Asher kicked him. "You think you can address Mr. Oliver by name? Who do you think you are?"

The man trembled with fear, his

sleep violently interrupted by intruders who dragged him from his bed, only to be greeted with fists before he could even question Way

Now, faced with Oliver's imposing figure, he was scared out of his wits.

He couldn't fathom how Oliver's men had caught him so easily.

The man spoke with a trembling voice, "Mr. Oliver, Mr. Oliver, this isn't about me, you've got the wrong guy!"

Oliver crouched down, a smirk

playing on his lips as he looked anet

the battered man. "Questioning my competere f

Asher landed another kick, sending the man sprawling. "You dare question Mr. Oliver? You've got some nerve!"

Confusion and pain overwhelmed the man. Everything he said seemed to be wrong.

As the man bore the brunt of the beating, he felt at his limit; Oliver's men didn't hold back.

Asher prodded further, "Who sent you? Speak up to Mr. Oliver."