Aubree did end up using the USB drive. She handed it to Den-he knew what to do.


    By the time Aubree left the club, nightfall had already descended.


    Hidden in the night shadows was a Maybach, its window slightly ajar to reveal nothing but a hand holding a cigarette.


    His gaze was fixed squarely on the main entrance of Golden Industrial Park.


    Bowen couldn’t help but scoff at himself.


    Bowen thought to himself, ‘God, I’m pathetic. She’s desperate to distance herself from me, yet here I am, still worrying about her safety at night.’


    “Um, Mr. Turner, aren’t we leaving yet?” Samson, sitting in the front seat, asked hesitantly, ncing about in confusion as he wondered who they were waiting for.


    Samson thought, ‘If we’re really waiting for Miss Miller, why can’t Mr. Turner just wait openly? Why hide in the car like some shady character?’


    Bowen choked up for a moment, then came up with ame excuse that wouldn’t fool a soul. He muttered weakly, “Oh, I told Zachary toe back. We’re waiting for him before leaving.”


    ‘Wait for Zachary?’ Samson thought skeptically, exchanging a nce with Ethan. ‘Mr. Turner must be lying.’


    Ethan and Samson exchanged a knowing nce, their eyes aze with the fire of gossip.


    Samson wondered, ‘Was he just dumped by Miss Miller?’


    Ethan thought, ‘Absolutely. He even called Zachary back-he must’ve really been dumped!’


    Samson wondered, ‘Mr. Turner must be worried about Miss Miller’s safety at night and wants to follow and escort her home on the sly.’


    Ethan thought, ‘Hey, why don’t you ask him?’


    True to his word, Samson cautiously ventured, “Mr. Turner, it’s not really safe for Miss Miller to be alone thiste at night. Maybe we should escort her home together?”


    Bowen gave a dry chuckle. “The Yastraria project is short-staffed. Why don’t you two go check it out?”


    Ethan and Samson mmed up at once, groaned inwardly, ‘Mr. Turner just loves to pick on us.’


    Bowen exhaled a slow stream of smoke as he reclined in his seat. Even his subordinates could tell how deeply he cared about Aubree.


    No, to be precise, everyone around him could see it-everyone except himself, clinging to self-deception and refusing to dwell on it.


    “Walk away, or-‘ he wondered. Before Bowen could reach a decision, a sharp rap on the car window startled him.


    Zachary reported, “Mr. Turner, as you instructed, I’ve stopped following Miss Miller.”


    Bowen rolled down the window and stared at Zachary, stunned. “What are you doing here?”


    39


    Zachary’s usually impassive face showed a hint of confusion. “I told Miss Miller I’d leave after seeing her home, but she said I could go now. She headed back on her own.”


    Bowen was so furious he could feel his chest tightening. ‘Is he made of wood or what?’ he wondered.


    Bowen fumed, “I told you to escort her home before leaving-so why the hell are you back here?’ He wondered, ‘Damn it, what if she encounters danger on her way back? Or gets lost?’


    The more Bowen dwelled on it, the wilder his imagination ran. He could already picture Bree getting bullied.


    Bowen snapped, “Don’t just stand there-get in the car. Ethan, drive.”


    “Go back and face your punishment,” Bowen said sharply, his finalmand directed at Zachary.


    Even though his rational mind told Bowen the odds were slim, the mere thought of Aubree being in danger filled him with a gnawing unease.


    Bowen thought, ‘I feel like I’m losing my mind a little. I can’t pinpoint when it started-maybe before I went to Odiond, or maybe after I got back.


    ‘But whenever Bree isn’t within my sight or I don’t know where she is, this irrational panic just takes over, and I’m terrified something might happen to her.’


    Bowen knew better than anyone how messed up his state of mind was-constantly suppressing inappropriate thoughts, and forcing himself to remove all restraints when it was time for Bree to spread her wings.


    But he couldn’t stand it, and it was only just the beginning.


    Bowen let out a bitter chuckle, thinking to himself, ‘Serves me right.’


    Streetlights cast the shadows of trees onto the ground as the ck Maybach crawled through the night, its upants’ eyes darting anxiously from side to side.


    The cool autumn breeze brushed against her skin, deste, yet strangely liberating.


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