Adrian Quinn removed his coat and draped it over Lila Cross, then gently lifted her into his arms.
"Help... me..."
A faint cry for help rang out.
Adrian Quinn's brows furrowed sharply as he turned toward the sound—
It was Wyatt Larson, balding, lying on the floor covered in blood, hands and feet bound to the bedposts, unable to move.
Seeing someone had arrived, Wyatt Larson's eyes lit up wildly.
"Save me! Save me! I'm dying!"
Only then did Adrian notice the two deep gashes on the man's legs—the source of the blood pooling across the floor.
Wyatt Larson screamed in agony, his voice trembling with sobs. "This woman is vicious! She did this to me!"
"If it weren't for the sleeping pill I gave her, I'd be dead by now!"
"Please, save me!"
Just then, a group of police officers burst in. "Who called the emergency?"
"It was me!"
Wyatt Larson, no longer caring about his own actions, wailed despera

After confessing, Wyatt Larson was taken away by the police.
Lila Cross carefully shifted her body.
The man's scorching palm still burned against the skin of her waist.
Earlier, all her attention had been on the police and Wyatt Larson—she hadn't realized how intimate her posture with Adrian Quinn was.
Now, only the two of them remained in the hospital room.
The air was thick with intimacy; the lighting, soft and warm.
They were so close they could feel each other's breathing rhythm.
She rarely got this close to anyone. It made her uncomfortable.
But the moment she moved, he moved too.
That broad palm still burned her skin, turning her face crimson.
After a pause, she bit her lip. "Mr. Quinn, everyone's gone. We don't need to stay like this, right?"
Earlier, when she sweetly called him "husband," it was just for show.
The man raised his hand, pulling her into his arms. His deep voice was

The corridor of Stellar Haven Hotel.
Lila Cross stared coldly at Sophia Cross, unconscious on the floor, a frosty smirk curling her lips.
"Years as a martial arts stunt double at the film studio, and this is all you can take? Already out cold?"
"Miss Cross, what's the plan now?"
The burly men who had knocked Sophia out and dragged her here asked in hushed tones.
"Take her to Room 1102. Wyatt Larson will arrive shortly."
"Understood."
The men hauled Sophia toward the next room.
As she was dragged, a jade pendant slipped from her clothes.
The emerald-green jade gleamed under the warm glow of the corridor lights, catching the eye.
Lila frowned, stepped forward, and picked it up. "So that drunk James actually gave this to Sophia?"
She sneered, slipping the pendant into her pocket.
Before she turned eighteen, she had lived with James Townsend—and seen this pendant before.
Once, James had mentioned it was a token to help her find her birth mother—someone of high standing.
When she left the slums, she'd searched everywhere for it, but never found it.
To think that drunk would actually give it to that fool Sophia.
Another cold snort.
Sophia, you want to find your real mother? You wish.
"Miss Cross."
A minute later, the balding Wyatt Larson waddled over, his belly leading the way. "She's ready? The Quinns don't know, right?"
"Don't worry."
Lila's smirk widened. "She's thrilled to serve you. She's got no status in the Quinn family—no one would even care."
Even if Mr. Quinn sent guards to follow her—unlikely, given his cruelty—Sophia would ditch them herself.
After all, having a drunk like James Townsend as a father isn't exactly something to boast about.
Lila had counted on Sophia returning to deliver money to James—that's why she'd had her men lying in wait near his home.
"Perfect!"
Wyatt Larson rubbed his hands eagerly, took the contract Lila offered, and signed. "As long as she satisfies me, I'll renew our annual deal with Crosswell Group!"
"Much obliged, Wyatt Larson."
Lila's smile turned icy. "The night waits for no man. Go on in."
The old man leered, gave a low chuckle, and strode into the room.
Watching him disappear, Lila turned and walked away, smirking.
The hotel locks were custom, the room soundproof. She had no fear of escape.
Besides, Sophia should be grateful.
They said the fire five years ago didn't just scar Mr. Quinn's face and temper—it ruined him below the belt.
That's why he's so brutal with women: because he's broken.
Wyatt Larson may be older, but at least he's still functional.
*
Quinn Estate.
A transnational video conference was underway in the study.
Adrian Quinn sat in his executive chair, frowning as he listened to the blonde woman on screen deliver her proposal in French.
The meeting was tense, the atmosphere oppressive—even through video.
"Bang!" The study door burst open.
Noah Quinn rushed in, panic in his eyes. "Daddy, Mommy's in trouble!"
Silence fell instantly.
Everyone on the call stared at Adrian in shock.
Since when did the boss have a wife?
The cold, composed man didn't flinch. "What happened?"
"Brother called Mommy—she screamed, and then the line died!"
"No one answers now!"
Noah's face was flushed, his small hands gripping Adrian's. "Daddy, please save Mommy!"
"She might've been kidnapped!"
"What if someone hurts her because she's beautiful?"
The boy tugged desperately. "Come on, help her!"
Adrian frowned.
Noah was playful, but rarely this frantic.
Something was wrong.
He stood, lifted Noah into his arms, and strode out.
The boss's chair sat empty. The attendees stared, stunned—should they leave or wait?
Lucian Quinn, mature beyond his years, climbed onto the chair, picked up the mic, and spoke with solemn authority.
"Ladies and gentlemen, due to a family emergency, my father must now fight for his lifelong happiness. The meeting is postponed."
With that, he politely shut down the laptop.
The European branch exploded.
The boss—the iron-clad bachelor—had finally fallen!
Workaholic Adrian Quinn had postponed a meeting… for his wife?
*
"Based on Mommy's phone GPS, I traced her last signal to this location."
By a narrow alley near the slums, Lucian wore a headset, fingers flying over his laptop.
"Mr. Quinn, we found the lady's phone."
A subordinate handed over the cracked, battered device.
Adrian paused, then tossed it into the trash.
"I'll get Mommy a new one!"
From the passenger seat, Noah pulled out a tablet, already browsing.
Lucian studied the surroundings, frowning. "Why would Mommy come here?"
It was far from the film studio.
The man beside him typed rapidly. "Stellar Haven Hotel."
Lucian looked up. "How do you know Mommy's there?"
"No cameras in the alley. But outside, there are."
"Traced the footage. Narrowed it to Stellar Haven."
Though Adrian rarely spoke, he always explained things clearly to his sons.
Lucian slapped his forehead. "Of course! Dad's brilliant."
He'd only thought of the phone signal—forgot surveillance!
And…
"Dad, you checked all that footage so fast?"
Adrian nodded, opened the car door. "Go home. I'll handle this with my team."
Lucian nodded. They were too young to help. "Dad, bring Mommy back safe!"
"I'll try."
With that, Adrian entered another car and sped toward Stellar Haven Hotel.
Over half an hour had passed since the abduction. He couldn't guarantee she hadn't already been harmed.
*
"Bang!"
The hotel door exploded open. A wave of blood-soaked air slammed into them.
The white bed was drenched in crimson. Lila lay there, half-dressed, pale as death, blood streaking her skin.
The sight made Adrian's pupils contract violently.
"Close your eyes. Turn away."
He barked, and the bodyguards instantly obeyed.
Step by step, he approached.
Each step deepened the stench of blood.
He stopped before her. His hand reached out—trembling. "Lila…"
The first time he'd ever said her name with such intensity. And under such horror.


Adrian Quinn removed his coat and draped it over Lila Cross, then gently lifted her into his arms.
"Help... me..."
A faint cry for help rang out.
Adrian Quinn's brows furrowed sharply as he turned toward the sound—
It was Wyatt Larson, balding, lying on the floor covered in blood, hands and feet bound to the bedposts, unable to move.
Seeing someone had arrived, Wyatt Larson's eyes lit up wildly.
"Save me! Save me! I'm dying!"
Only then did Adrian notice the two deep gashes on the man's legs—the source of the blood pooling across the floor.
Wyatt Larson screamed in agony, his voice trembling with sobs. "This woman is vicious! She did this to me!"
"If it weren't for the sleeping pill I gave her, I'd be dead by now!"
"Please, save me!"
Just then, a group of police officers burst in. "Who called the emergency?"
"It was me!"
Wyatt Larson, no longer caring about his own actions, wailed desperately. "Help! This woman tried to kill me!"
*
"She's fine. She just fell asleep—side effect of the se

Chapter 15 I'm Very Interested in Her