Chapter 1252

Harlan’s heart sank, the weight of unspoken implications heavy in the air.

Concealing was no longer an option for Mavis, her gaze falling to the floor in acknowledgment.

Harlan understood that her silence held the truth.

“Regarding Derek’s injury, you sought out Bruce in an attempt to exonerate yourself. The plan was to

bring him to us and prove your loyalty. But things took a different turn. Bruce ended up shooting you

instead. Is that what transpired, Mavis?”

Harlan’s deduction pinpointed the origin of the gunshot wound.

His words struck a chord within Mavis, a poignant pang in her chest.

Guns had been an alien concept in her world until her first encounter with Harlan. Never had she

fathomed she’d bear a gunshot wound.

Her skin had always been a canvas of pride, pampered with an array of skincare products. Even a

mere hint of redness would stir discontent.

Yet this unsightly wound now marked her flesh, a permanent testament.

Angela’s Library

Unbidden, a solitary tear landed on her pristine trousers, a small rebellion against her own perceived

weakness.

Swiftly, she masked it with her hand. Crying seemed like a Luxury she couldn’t afford.

Witnessing this, Harlan experienced a twinge deep within, a sensation akin to a blade’s thrust. The

unfamiliar pain seemed to stir within him, a sign that he was no longer the emotionless figure he once

was.

In a tentative motion, Harlan extended his hand, a gesture to offer solace to Mavis’ shoulder. But

hesitation held him captive-partly due to the wound before him, a reminder of his own implication in her

ordeal.

“Harlan, let’s sit down and eat. I’m still hungry,” Mavis announced, her head raised as if to erase the

gravity of the moment.

“Alright,” Harlan responded, his voice stiff, the weight of his thoughts left unspoken.

Amid the course of their meal, Harlan excused himself, citing an impending matter. Taking the initiative,

he settled the bill in advance and departed.

While sitting there, he sensed that Mavis was consistently lost in thought. She harbored concerns that

right after she completed her meal, he might take her life.

Upon exiting the establishment, from the confines of his car, Harlan observed the restaurant. In his

absence, Mavis noticeably unwound, engaging in a relaxed conversation with the waiter for a period of

time.

Martin, behind the wheel, rolled down his window and ignited a cigarette. After a contemplative

moment, he eased the car into motion, leaving the scene behind.

Within the bar’s dim confines, Bruce prepared to return to his private room. Yet the trill of his phone cut

through the air-it was a call from the family house.

For a fleeting moment, he scrutinized the incoming call, capturing its essence before promptly

answering, averting its imminent conclusion.

“Mr. Thomas, this is Freyja,” she began, her voice carrying an air of formality.

On the other end, Claudia’s voice chimed in, “Freyja, have you managed to reach Bruce?”

“Freyja, what’s the situation?”