Chapter 1381:
“Bang, bang, bang!”
Hidden in the haze, Macauley fired wildly. Several figures crumpled to the floor.
Then a sharp, horrifying scream tore through the chaos.
“Let go of her!”
“No, no—let me go! You bad guy, let me go!” a child cried.
Millie snapped her head up.
Her heart lurched, and the world seemed to slow to a crawl.
She spotted Ari only a short distance away, kicking and thrashing, even trying to bite the arm locked around her. Helga had been shoved aside and was struggling to get back up. Nearby, a security guard lay sprawled on the floor, bleeding heavily—most likely already dead.
“Quiet!” Macauley barked.
When Ari kept struggling, he slapped her hard, drawing a piercing wail. Irritated, he struck the side of her neck. The little girl went limp at once.
“No!” Millie felt something inside her tear apart.
Please… don’t hurt her.
Barely able to stay on her feet, Millie screamed and staggered toward them.
“Stay where you are!” Macauley raised the gun, pressing it to Ari’s head as his gaze swept the room.
“Stop! Don’t go any closer!” Charles shouted.
Egbert immediately barked orders for everyone nearby to fall back.
As the smoke thinned, most of the guests had already fled, leaving only a handful behind.
Security formed a wide ring around them. Macauley stood in the center with Ari in his grip, and Millie was only a few steps away.
“Let her go,” Millie pleaded through her tears.
“She’s just a child. You don’t need her for anything.”
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Using the wall to brace herself, she forced herself upright and took one shaky step after another toward them.
“Millie!”
“Millie, watch out!”
But she didn’t stop.
“What do you want?” Millie’s voice shook, but her eyes were steady.
“My life? You can have it—but let her go.”
She didn’t have much left to lose.
Her mother had learned the truth and run—unable to face it, unable to forgive. Her husband was lying somewhere between life and death. And now her daughter was trapped in the grip of a ruthless criminal. If trading her life could save Ari, she would do it without hesitation.
But Macauley didn’t pull the trigger.
Instead, he smirked.
“Why would I want your life? That shot was only a warning—to rattle someone’s nerves.”
A cold glint flashed in his eyes.
The wedding broadcast had been cut the instant those photos appeared, shut down on Myron’s orders. But in some hidden corner, a device was still streaming—capturing every second of the chaos.
Macauley tilted his chin toward the dark, where the device sat. A cruel smile tugged at his lips.
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.
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