Chapter 1121:
Rylie waited another hour. By four o’clock, she was told once again that the team was unavailable.
She didn’t argue or press further.
As she turned to leave, it became clear: the researchers had never taken Professor Holden—or his students—seriously.
After Rylie left, the receptionist called on the internal line to report her departure.
An impatient voice answered, “I’m aware. If she shows up again tomorrow, give her some materials and send her to the library to sort them.”
“Understood,” the receptionist said.
𝖣о𝗇’𝘵 𝗺і𝗌ѕ 𝗇𝗲𝗐 r𝗲𝗹𝖾𝖺𝗌𝘦𝗌 оո 𝗴𝘢𝗅𝗻𝘰ve𝗅ѕ.𝗰𝘰𝘮
Rylie had the driver circle the city for a while. Later, during dinner, a panicked message from Melany came through: “Rylie! He’s going to kill my classmate! Please help us!”
Realizing something was terribly wrong, Rylie called back immediately—but Melany’s phone was already off.
Knowing how little human life meant to Deandre, Rylie hurried back to the car, her voice turning icy. “Turn around. Now.”
Deandre had taken a young man by force from Ostium.
Shortly after Rylie returned to his compound, she visited Brad briefly. Their conversation was cut short by desperate screams from outside.
Stepping out, Rylie froze at the sight before her: a young man forced to his knees, a gun pressed to his skull. The pavement beneath him was darkened, evidence of his terror.
She opened her mouth to intervene, but before a word could escape, a gunshot cracked. The bullet tore into the young man’s leg. He collapsed instantly, overwhelmed by the pain.
Rylie’s expression hardened as she stepped forward. “That’s enough,” she said sharply.
A black armored van rolled to a stop nearby. The door swung open, and Melany stumbled out, her eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw the bleeding figure on the ground, she broke down, struggling wildly against the guard restraining her. “Deandre! Have you lost your mind? How could you shoot him? Why?”
Deandre restrained her easily with one hand. His gaze was dark, unnervingly cold and detached.
His grip didn’t loosen. “You should be asking him why he dared to touch what’s mine.”
His voice was icy, jealousy burning behind his eyes. “You rejected me and ended things, all for someone this insignificant? I wouldn’t even need to try to ruin him.”
Melany had always known the Owen family held immense power and that Deandre had a dangerous temper. But this was beyond that—an obsession without limits, a cruelty without conscience, a man who had lost all moral bearing.
She screamed in desperation, “He’s just my classmate! I already told you—I used him as an excuse to break up with you! Don’t you understand? You’re insane! You’re a murderer! I hate you!”
“You hate me?” Deandre pulled her close until their faces were inches apart, his voice dropping to a chilling murmur. “Hate me if you want. Fear me if you must. But don’t ever think you can escape me—or belong to anyone else. From now on, every part of you is mine. Inside and out.”
.
.
.