CHAPTER 93: CHAPTER 93: TRUTH REVEALED, SETTLING SCORES AFTER THE FALL

Vivi Sterling turned around. Her heart skipped a beat.

The one who had made her toss and turn, haunted her dreams—Number Seventeen—was suddenly standing right in front of her, without any warning.

He was still wearing that silver half-mask, shielding half his face, leaving only a sharp jawline and tightly pressed thin lips exposed, the air of mystery cranked to the max.

Right now, he was bare-chested, sweat beading and sliding down his well-defined chest, disappearing into taut abs.

Those muscles, smooth and beautiful in shape, full of explosive power, but not exaggerated like other boxers—every inch just right, seriously easy on the eyes.

Vivi Sterling felt her mouth go a little dry, couldn’t help but stretch out her pinky, wanting to poke that glossy, healthy-looking skin.

The man, however, stepped back abruptly the instant before her fingertip could touch him, perfectly sidestepping her "pervy little hand."

His gaze was icy, aloof, shutting people out from a thousand miles away.

Vivi Sterling wasn’t annoyed at all; instead, she laughed, her eyes curving: "Hey handsome, don’t be so cold, I came here just to find you."

She paused, her voice taking on a tempting note: "Next month, I have to go to Mardale, and I want to hire you...to be my bodyguard."

Number Seventeen’s mask hid most of his expression, but Vivi Sterling still caught a trace of something flicker in his eyes.

Mardale.

That place was a real hellhole—almost certain death, no coming back.

What’s a pampered heiress like her going there for? Just to get herself killed?

"Not going." He rejected flatly, his voice as cold and crisp as ever, not a hint of emotion.

"Hey, don’t rush to say no." Vivi Sterling smiled even sweeter, "I’ll pay five million. If you change your mind, call me."

She dug into her little purse and pulled out a folded heart-shaped napkin with a phone number boldly written on it.

She stood on tiptoes and gently tucked that "heart" into his half-open locker next to him.

Right that instant, a staff member wearing the boxing club uniform hustled over, voice still fairly polite:

"Miss, this is the backstage restricted area. Guests aren’t allowed in, please leave."

Vivi Sterling didn’t so much as glance at the staff, her eyes still glued to Number Seventeen.

She suddenly turned, asking the staffer, "You can deliver a gift for me, right?"

The staffer looked confused, but still nodded: "Uh? Oh, yes."

Vivi Sterling curled her lips with satisfaction, then spun around, leaning close to the young staff member.

He still hadn’t processed what was happening when her fragrant, heady kiss landed unexpectedly on the corner of his lips.

A bright red lip mark stood out, stamped right at the edge of the boy’s mouth.

"Please help me deliver this kiss to Number Seventeen." Vivi Sterling’s voice was coy, but her eyes held a fierce dominance, "If you fail, I’ll tear this whole club down."

The staffer froze, mouth hanging open in an "O" shape. He looked at Vivi Sterling, then at Number Seventeen radiating that terrifying low-pressure aura beside her. The hairs on his back stood up, chilly as hell.

What the hell was this? Innocent bystanders getting burned?

"Shit!"

Number Seventeen cursed quietly, his voice holding something repressed.

His gaze, out of control, chased after that swaggering, twisty-hipped figure walking away.

Deep down, an inexplicable agitation rippled like stones thrown onto a lake—no way to resist it.

This woman is just... begging for trouble!

...

The two women finished watching the match and dinner, and got home close to midnight.

Vivi Sterling changed clothes as she spoke, "I think Corinne Kensington is super sketchy. How about we go have some fun tomorrow night?"

Stella Grant tossed her a look, "Not interested!"

Everything between her and Corinne Kensington didn’t concern her at all—especially with that man always so blind!

Vivi Sterling suddenly got a wild urge, grabbed her phone, and sent a message, "Then I’ll go get some backup. If I end up watching a R-rated show..."

Just thinking about it made her excited!

The next day, Aiden Fordham was on his way to the office when he got a panicked, tearful scream from Corinne Kensington.

"Aiden! Hurry to Kensington Residence! Stella Grant’s going to kill someone! She’s brought a ton of people!"

Aiden’s heart clenched hard.

"Turn around! Go to Kensington Residence!" he barked at the driver, his voice tight and tense.

Outside Kensington Residence, the atmosphere was deadly.

Three black luxury cars blocked the entrance, with a showy Maybach leading the charge—clearly Andy Lockwood’s handiwork.

Six bodyguards in black suits and sunglasses fanned out, sealing off the residence. The setup was so intimidating, anyone would get nervous.

Aiden’s car had just rolled to a stop when he saw two bodyguards dragging Helen Warren out.

Helen Warren’s hair was a mess, and she looked nothing like a respectable lady. She struggled desperately, kicking wildly, shrieking in panic.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

"My future son-in-law is Aiden Fordham! The Fordham Group’s Aiden Fordham! If you dare touch me, he won’t let you off!"

Corinne Kensington came rushing out, eyes red, and the moment she saw Stella Grant not far away, she screamed at her.

"Stella Grant, what are you doing! Why are you grabbing my mom!"

"Who gave you permission to cause trouble here?"

The dragged Helen Warren saw Stella Grant too, and as if finding a place to vent, burst into a tirade.

"You ungrateful wretch! How can you lay hands on me? I’m your foster mother! I raised you for four whole years! Four years!"

"How can you treat me like this! You heartless child!"

Stella Grant stood on the steps, looking down on the circus below, a curve of chilling cold at the corner of her mouth.

She folded her arms, her eyes utterly devoid of warmth.

"Four years?" She let out a soft, mocking laugh.

She never dared forget those four years of "grace"—and can’t forget how this woman once tied her up, ordered people to nail her into a box, and threw her into the river...

"Enjoy your time in prison. Don’t worry, I’ll have people ’take good care’ of you—think of it as payback for those four years."

Helen Warren was trembling with rage, cursing even harsher.

"You ungrateful thing! I wasted all my kindness on you! If I’d known, I should’ve let you freeze to death in Rivena! Shouldn’t have taken pity and brought you home! How could you be so ruthless! So cold-blooded!"

"What’s going on?" a deep, commanding voice rang out.

Aiden Fordham strode over, his eyes sharp as he scanned the scene.

Corinne Kensington, seeing her savior, dashed over and clung to his arm.

"Aiden! Thank god you’re here!"

She pointed at Stella Grant, eyes red, "It’s Stella Grant! She’s teamed up with Andy Lockwood to kidnap Mom! They’re trying to send her to jail!"

"Please save my mom! I’m begging you, Aiden!"

Stella Grant watched Corinne Kensington’s performance with cold eyes—Aiden really was her only lifeline right now.

Aiden Fordham brushed Corinne’s hand off, walked up to Stella Grant, and kept his tone relatively calm.

"What’s happening? Why are you grabbing her?"

Stella Grant looked up, met his gaze, eyes resolute, speaking each word with clarity.

"Aiden Fordham, listen up. Melody Jewel has already confessed, and agreed to turn herself in."

"The one behind it all is Helen Warren."

"She made me take birth control for three whole years! Made me lose that baby!"

"She’s the one to blame!"

By the end, she was almost shouting, eyes bloodshot, filled with overwhelming hatred.

Aiden Fordham’s body jerked violently.

Birth control? Lost baby? Helen Warren?

So, the person who made Stella Grant suffer so much... was this woman!

A wave of unstoppable rage surged from his chest straight to his head.

He spun around, fixing a deathly cold glare on Helen Warren under the guards’ grip, his voice squeezed out through clenched teeth.

"Was it you?"

That look—he could have ripped Helen Warren apart on the spot.