?Chapter 1091:


    Before the unease could fade, a dagger shed toward Christina.<fned37> ???s ??????? ?s ?????? ?? find~novel</fned37>


    Christina reacted in a heartbeat—twisting aside, gripping the janitor’s wrist, and wrenching the de straight from the janitor’s hand. With one swift yank, she tore off the janitor’s wig, exposing a man in disguise.


    Christina mmed him to the floor and ground her heel into his chest, pinning him firmly.


    “Talk! Who sent you?” Christina demanded, her voice as sharp and cold as steel.


    Davina emerged from the restroom just in time to see the man crushed beneath Christina’s foot. Damn it. Who had sent someone after Christina this time?


    The would-be killer had thought she’d be easy prey, yet her quick reaction and skill rattled him to the core. Even so, his principle of not betraying his employer chained his tongue, and he stubbornly kept silent.


    “Not going to talk?” Christina’s lips curled into a chilling smile. “I know plenty of ways to make you.”


    “We’ll drag him out, slice out his tongue, and strip the flesh from his bones piece by piece,” Davina threatened, her tone sharp enough to freeze blood.


    “I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” the man burst out, terror wide in his eyes. “It was Mr. Moss Glyn!”


    “Balfour Glyn’s father?” Christina pressed, her gaze unwavering.


    “Yes—yes, it was him!” the man stammered, trembling all over.


    “Get out of my sight. And tell him his days are numbered.” Christina’s mouth curved into a mocking smile as she lifted her foot.


    “Okay!” The man scrambled upright and bolted, disappearing as quickly as he could.


    Davina turned to Christina. “So, are you going to act against him?”


    “Yes. Since he’s begging for a death at my hands, I’ll grant him,” Christina replied, a dangerous glint flickering in her eyes.


    Your favorite tales live on g?lnσνe??s


    In Kitaso, Moss lounged in a luxury club, buried in the arms of women. He kissed one, then another, his hands roaming without restraint. Laughing, he slid his hand beneath a woman’s blouse and gave her a bold, yful squeeze.


    “Oh, Mr. Glyn, you’re such a tease.” One of the women giggled, her cheeks flushing.


    “Mr. Glyn, let me pour you a drink,” another chimed in eagerly, reaching for the bottle.


    Moss basked in their attention, grinning smugly—until his phone rang. His smile instantly soured. Expecting that annoying Yvonne again, he answered with a scowl, only to hear an unfamiliar voice.


    “What? The job failed? Useless fool! You couldn’t even deal with one woman?” Moss roared, fury twisting his face. He had finally seen the perfect chance to strike, only for the killer he’d hired to botch it. His jaw tightened with rage.


    “She left a message for you.”


    “What message?” Moss asked.


    “She said your days are numbered.”


    “Who the hell does she think she is? Does she really think I’ll just keel over because she says so? If she’s got the guts, let her face me herself!” Moss sneered, refusing to take Christina’s warning seriously.


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