“There’s no concussion. You’ve only sustained a superficial injury,” Eric said expressionlessly.
Alan flinched at being exposed and glared at him viciously. The short-haired woman added, “Even without a concussion, we’ll sue her until she loses everything. Let’s see if she dares to act arrogant again.”
How shameless.
They were the ones who started the trouble.
Thelma slowly raised her head, her gaze cold as she stared at the short-haired woman and said, “If you keep yapping, do you believe I’ll beat you up too?”
Perhaps it was the chill in Thelma’s gaze, but the short-haired woman was momentarily stunned. However, she quickly sneered, “You dare?!”
“I’ve already got nothing to lose. What else would I not dare?” Thelma raised an eyebrow. “Want to try me?”
The short-haired woman felt a ruthless intent in Thelma’s eyes—something dark and chilling, as if she would rip her apart without hesitation. Remembering Thelma’s decisiveness in smashing a bottle over Alan’s head, the woman instinctively shivered. Still, unwilling to be outdone, she said, “Don’t get cocky. You’ll have plenty of time to cry later.” She then turned to Alan, who sneered and said, “Two women—making them cry is the easiest thing in the world.” He let out a lecherous laugh.
Thelma found it utterly disgusting.
Samantha, trying to keep the peace, stepped forward to offer a proper apology to Alan. Before she could speak, however, a group of uniformed police officers suddenly stormed in—it was a team of detectives.
The officers quickly filled the room, and the tall detective leading them approached Alan. He flashed his badge and a warrant, saying, “Alan , you are under arrest for kidnapping and extortion.”
With that, several officers stepped forward and cuffed him.
Another officer behind the leader approached the short-haired woman, showing her an arrest warrant as well. “Doris, you are under formal arrest for human trafficking and forcing women into prostitution.”
The situation unfolded so quickly that both Alan and the short-haired woman were completely dumbfounded. It wasn’t until the cuffs were about to be snapped onto Doris’s wrists that she screamed, “What are you doing? I haven’t committed any crimes! What right do you have to arrest me?” She flailed her arms, hitting at the detective.
But these officers were well-trained. One immediately grabbed her by the hair, and as Doris yelped in pain and reached to protect her head, the cuffs were swiftly secured around her wrists.
Compared to Doris’s commotion, Alan was oddly quiet—or rather, completely stunned. Gone was his earlier arrogance; now, he resembled a chastised child, docilely letting the officers take him away.
After the arrests, the lead detective lingered briefly, walking past the two sisters on his way out. Thelma got a clear look at his face.
He was quite handsome, but a scar ran from his ear to the corner of his mouth, marring his features with an air of grim severity.
His gaze swept briefly over Samantha before he walked out.
Thelma thought the man looked familiar, as if she’d seen him somewhere before, but she couldn’t recall where.
The entire development had taken everyone by surprise. As Thelma and Samantha left the hospital room, Thelma was still in a daze.
Samantha suddenly said, “It’s a good thing you had someone powerful helping you.”
Thelma: “???”
She was still trying to figure out where she had seen that detective when Samantha’s words caught her off guard. “What powerful help?”
“That Alan is a well-known local thug in Mapleton City. He’s done plenty of bad things, but because of his extensive network, no one dared touch him. For him to be arrested so suddenly, it must mean someone even more powerful is targeting him.”
“So you’re saying that this powerful person targeting Alan is my benefactor? Why not yours?”
Samantha replied, “I know whether or not I have a benefactor.”
Thelma immediately retorted, “I also know whether or not I have…” She trailed off as the image of the tall, enigmatic man who had stood behind her earlier flashed in her mind. “Could it be Mr. Sam Noah?”
Samantha said, “Who knows?”
Thelma wasn’t sure. Sam Noah had once given her his business card, and she’d looked into his background afterward. He was indeed a man of influence and status, and he was the most formidable person she knew.
She decided to call him when she got back, just in case it wasn’t him who had helped her.
“Thelma!”
Just as the two were about to reach the elevator, someone called out to her.
They turned and saw Eric standing not far away. Samantha instinctively stepped in front of Thelma and asked, “What do you want with Thelma?”
Eric walked closer, his gaze fixed on Thelma, whose face showed only anger and coldness. His expression was complicated.
After a long moment, he finally said, “Where is your husband? How could he not show up after everything you’ve been through?”
Husband? What husband?
Before Thelma could voice her confusion, Samantha cut in, “Thelma’s affairs have nothing to do with you. It’s not your place to ask. We have other matters to attend to, so we’ll be leaving now.” She glared at Eric before pulling Thelma away.
As they descended the stairs, Thelma thought about his words and asked, “He asked about my husband? I don’t have a husband.”
Samantha explained, “He came looking for you once. I didn’t want him to bother you anymore, so I told him you were married.”
So that was it.
But if he had chosen to betray her, how could he have the audacity to come looking for her?
Thelma felt a surge of anger. She should’ve slapped him when he approached her earlier.
When Thelma returned, the staff was cleaning up the aftermath. Everyone had been delayed by police questioning.
The private room hadn’t been fully cleaned yet, so Thelma went over to help. Most of the mess had been cleared, but there was a cigarette under the chair in the corner. Thelma crouched down carefully to retrieve it. As she stood, she misjudged the distance and hit her head on the edge of the table.
The impact was hard. Thelma instinctively held her head. As she closed her eyes and gently rubbed the spot, a sudden image appeared in her mind.
It was an unfamiliar scene, entirely unrelated to her past memories.
She seemed to be sitting in a dimly lit room, wearing a beautiful dress and makeup. She looked distressed, crying so hard her makeup was smudged. Mascara clung to her eyelids uncomfortably.
She sat by the window, smoking and drinking. The alcohol amplified her emotions, and she cried even harder. Then a two-year-old boy toddled into the room. Seeing her crying, he wobbled over to comfort her. She seemed to reject him, not wanting him near, and pushed him away. In her drunken state, she accidentally dropped her lit cigarette onto his arm.
Though she quickly brushed it off, it was too late.
Such a small child, with delicate skin—the burning cigarette instantly left a scar on his arm.
He cried loudly from the pain.
This single fragment left Thelma utterly stunned.
In the vision, she heard the boy’s tender, lisping voice as he approached her.
He said, “Mommy, don’t cry.”
She saw his face clearly.
It was Tyler.
He called her “Mommy.”
