CHAPTER 98: CHAPTER 98: TWIST OF FATE

As soon as Corinne Kensington got out of the car, two bodyguards rushed up and cleared the way ahead.

Suddenly, her phone started ringing, and she answered it absentmindedly.

She didn’t say a word. When she hung up, her face suddenly went pale, her feet as if nailed to the ground.

No, she mustn’t panic—now it was too late to leave.

The bodyguards had already pushed the door open, and in the end, she lifted her legs and walked inside.

No matter what, she had to get through this by herself. Stay calm!

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out, "Corinne Kensington!"

"Ah, don’t kill me, I don’t know, I don’t know anything!" Terrified, her beautiful face went bloodless as she immediately squatted down, covering her face tightly with both hands.

"Bodyguards!" she screamed.

The two bodyguards instantly shielded her. "Miss Kensington, don’t be afraid. It’s Mr. Fordham."

Corinne Kensington slowly moved her hands away. When she saw the cool, imposing man in front of her, she ran toward him, overjoyed.

"Aiden!" She threw her arms fiercely around his waist, her body trembling slightly as if she’d been too badly frightened.

"What are you doing here? Do you even know what kind of place this is?"

Aiden Fordham’s face was dark, his voice laced with interrogation and steel. His hands hung at his sides; he didn’t embrace her.

"I shouldn’t have come!" Corinne’s crystal-like eyes glimmered with tears, her voice trembling. "This afternoon, I got an anonymous letter saying the criminal who kidnapped me before had been caught, and I was asked to come identify him. So I came."

"How come you’re here? Did you already catch the guy?"

She looked up at him, her arms tightening a little around his waist. Seeing his cold expression, she figured she needed to add a bit more strength.

Just then, Quentin Lockwood walked over, two men behind him holding something.

"Miss Kensington, take a good look—is it this person?"

Corinne turned her head, and when she caught sight of the emaciated, bloodied man, she screamed in horror again.

"Ah, what is that—Aiden, make them leave! I don’t want to ID him, wuwuwu..."

Tears streamed down her face as she trembled, letting go of his waist, her legs about to give out.

Aiden reflexively reached out and held her up as she was about to collapse, exchanging a look with the two bodyguards, who quickly carried the man away.

Everything timed perfectly!

"You shouldn’t be here. Where’s the letter?" His tone softened.

But he still harbored suspicion.

"At...home. Aiden, take me home, I’m scared. What if there’s another group of thugs waiting there..."

Corinne’s eyes shimmered with tears, her expression pitiful.

Aiden looked at her, and even though his love for her had long since vanished,

out of gratitude, he still couldn’t let anything happen to her!

"I’ll take you home." Supporting her, Aiden led her toward the door, pausing to tell Quentin Lockwood, "Take another look around. If there’s nothing, pull everyone out."

"Understood!"

Corinne nestled smugly in his arms, a sly glint flashing in her eyes as the scene from that day replayed in her mind.

Back then, just as she was about to be assaulted by Bruno Duvall, the door was kicked open.

Several shadowy figures rushed in, yanking Bruno off her and beating him so fiercely that the thuds were dull and terrifying.

Bruno’s screams were abruptly silenced.

A tall, statuesque figure stepped inside, outlined by light.

Corinne couldn’t make out his expression, but his build and intimidating presence were so familiar they made her heart pound.

Andy Lockwood.

Why would he be here?

The man walked up to her, his towering form casting a shadow that enveloped her whole.

He removed his finely tailored suit jacket with a commanding kind of grace, personally draping it over her exposed body, covering up the chaos and her shattered dignity.

"Miss Kensington, sorry you were frightened." His voice was deep, with an oddly calming power.

"At least I wasn’t late."

Clutching the lapels tightly, Corinne’s fingers were icy as her body trembled uncontrollably.

Still shaken, she was left with confusion on her face.

She raised her head to look at the man before her, so unreadably deep. "President Lockwood, why are you here?"

Andy Lockwood leisurely lit a cigarette, the red ember flaring in the darkness.

Through the drifting smoke, his gaze was unfathomable.

"There’s no need to be afraid, Miss Kensington." He exhaled a smoke ring. "We could be allies. Care to talk?"

Corinne suddenly looked up, the wariness in her eyes not fading, but now tinged with cold sharpness.

"Allies?" she sneered. "President Lockwood, you must be joking. How could we ever be allies?"

She bit her lip and stubbornly held his gaze.

"Don’t think that just because you saved me, I’ll go hurt Aiden!"

Andy let out a low laugh, as if he’d heard the funniest joke ever.

Smoke slid from his thin lips, blurring his handsome features.

"Hurt Aiden Fordham?" He flicked his ash, voice nonchalant. "Why would I let you hurt Aiden Fordham? On the contrary, I can help you get him."

Corinne wasn’t stupid.

In a flash, a name sprang to her lips. "Because of Stella Grant?"

Her tone was knowing, even mocking. "So there really is a woman you, President Lockwood, can’t handle. Incredible."

The smile on Andy’s face faded a bit, his gaze sliding toward Bruno Duvall, who was subdued at the side and still cursing foully.

"What?" His voice was soft but icily piercing. "Is Best Actress Kensington planning to stay with this man and have a little ’fun’?"

Corinne shuddered violently, her suppressed terror boiling back up.

Bruno Duvall’s face—she feared it.

It would be a nightmare she could never erase.

"No!" she blurted almost instinctively, voice shaking. "I’ll work with you!"

Andy nodded in satisfaction.

Then, together, they staged another "perfect" kidnapping scene.

Just waiting for Aiden Fordham to come and play the "hero"!

No one knew that the reason Bruno Duvall was able to so accurately locate Corinne, and even knew she wouldn’t have bodyguards with her that night...

was because Andy Lockwood had "inadvertently" let that information slip.

As for the real culprit, Bruno Duvall, he was now locked up by Andy’s men in the deepest dungeon of this abandoned mansion.

Never to see sunlight again.

Andy placed a cold key in Corinne’s palm, his tone flat.

"Miss Kensington, this man is yours to deal with."

For her to slowly "entertain" herself with.

...

Night grew deeper.

Inside the upscale restaurant, crystal chandeliers sparkled, casting a glow over the exquisite dishes and fragrant wine on the table.

Stella Grant, however, had little appetite, poking at the foie gras on her plate absentmindedly with a small fork.

Andy Lockwood sipped his wine, languid and relaxed. His voice held a hint of amusement: "What’s wrong, Little Junior? Still worried about your company troubles?"

Stella shot him a glare.

"A hole worth tens of billions, and you call it ’troubles’? Andy Lockwood, how do you manage to eat and sleep so well?"

His strikingly handsome face was more chiseled than ever under the lights. At her words, a meaningful smile played on his lips.

"As long as I remember that in a few days, I’ll be going back to F-Country with you, none of this bothers me."

Stella’s hand, holding the knife and fork, paused for a moment.

Wait... why did that sound off to her?

Andy Lockwood seemed oblivious to her reaction, raising his glass and arching a brow. "What, planning to ditch your senior the moment we get to F-Country?"

"Of course not!" Stella snapped back to attention, picking up her glass to clink against his with a crisp ring. "Don’t overthink it, Senior."

The wine slid smoothly down her throat, slightly sweet.

Andy set down his glass and casually added, "But we might need to change our route. Last week, someone spotted the ’big fish’ in F-Country, but according to the latest intel, they’ve slipped over to Nation A. So, we’re heading to Nation A first."

Stella’s expression stayed calm as her fingertips lightly stroked the rim of her glass.

"Alright."

Her tone was soft yet brooked no refusal.

"No matter where he runs—this time, we have to reel him in."

Dinner concluded, and as expected, Andy Lockwood ended up "drunk."

Stella struggled to prop him up, the man’s tall frame nearly draped entirely over her.

He seemed to be managing his weight on purpose—heavy, but not so much that she couldn’t handle it.

His stunning face was mere inches away, breath warm and wine-scented as it brushed against her neck.

Those eyes, usually sharp and inscrutable, now appeared blurred and lazy, focusing intently on Stella’s profile, his gaze tender as water.

In the car not far away, a pair of hawk-like eyes observed the scene quietly, fists clenched so tight the veins stood out...