Jecksen Wilmar’s phone rang, and he, inebriated, fished it out to take a glance—it was a call from Ivy Wilmar. Annoyed, he said, "Why are you calling late at night again, isn’t it annoying?"
Just then, a slightly husky voice that was quite pleasant to the ear rang out from directly ahead, "Who’s Jecksen Wilmar?"
Soone beside him nudged him with an elbow, "Mr. Wilmar, soone’s looking for you."
"It’s a girl."
Hearing the pleasant voice, Jecksen Wilmar looked up groggily, catching sight of a rather wild figure, hoodie and jeans, her casual attire could not conceal the formidable aura around her. The girl seed young, at most eighteen or nineteen, and her face was extrely beautiful, with deep, pitch-black eyes, hands tucked into her pockets, she leaned casually there.
Jecksen’s eyes went wide and he forgot about the ringing phone again, he bared a lecherous smile, whistled, and asked, "Beauty, what do you want with ?"
"You’re Jecksen Wilmar?"
Nathalie Quinlan determined her target from a group of people, and with a cool gaze, she settled on his hands, pulled hers from the pockets, sneered with a tilt of her eyes. Her stunning smile left everyone present stupefied.
She straightened her leg and walked over, enunciating two words clearly, "Beat you!"
Before everyone could react, Nathalie Quinlan had already started flexing her wrists as she approached the dazed man. Only a scream was heard as the pampered Mr. Wilmar, with his hand over his mouth, fell to the ground—the front teeth were knocked out.
Nathalie Quinlan didn’t stop there, one punch after another, truly beating the man as if to death.
The street was busy with people coming and going, and quickly, onlookers started to gather.
The lackeys always following Jecksen were dumbfounded by the scene unfolding before them.
"Damn, what’s happening here..."
"What are you waiting for, pull them apart quickly."
Jecksen was being beaten so badly that he had more breath going out than coming in, rolling his eyes as if on his last breath, but none of his flunkies, though loud in their yelling, dared to step forward.
Still, soone among the bystanders realized sothing was wrong and promptly made an ergency call to the nearby police station.
*
Sullivan Family.
Ivy Wilmar had made seven or eight calls without getting through, inevitably becoming agitated.
"Why hasn’t he picked up yet? However willful Jecksen is, it’s not like him to miss so many calls," Ivy paced back and forth in the living room, distressed.
Ghania Quinlan saw her aunt’s concern and reminded her gently, "Auntie, do you have any of Mr. Wilmar’s friends’ numbers? Maybe you should call one of his friends to check?"
From the start, she had felt an incessant twitching between her brows. It was rare for Ivy to be so distressed. Upon hearing Ghania’s suggestion, Ivy frowned, lifting her eyes to glance at Ghania.
That glance made Ghania incredibly nervous, gripping her hands tightly at her side.
Fortunately, Ivy just looked at her and did not vent her frustrations on Ghania but pursed her lips and dialed another number.
This ti, she likely wasn’t calling Jecksen’s number. It wasn’t long before Ghania saw that the call connected.
"Where are you? Is Jecksen with you? Have him call back," Ivy said in a fast and frantic tone, laced with annoyance.
Just as Ghania was musing about whether to find an excuse to go practice her piano, she heard Ivy suddenly raise her voice in a fit of anger, "What did you say? Jecksen has been beaten? Who did this!"
Jecksen was beaten? Ghania raised her head, her eyes flashing with a thought that sprang to mind, but she dismissed it as absurd and forcefully suppressed the thought.
She had seen Nathalie at Tsinghua University just at noon. It couldn’t be her.
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