?Chapter 875:


    The car rolled to a stop in a deserted warehouse district at the edge of town. A couple of ck-d bodyguards emerged stealthily from the shadows. One of them unlocked a massive iron door, the rusty smell of metal and blood filling the air.


    Inside, the warehouse was vast and gloomy, lit only by a harsh white bulb hanging from the ceiling. In the center, two men sat on the cold concrete, beaten and bound, heads hanging like they didn’t have the strength to lift them. They were the same guys who had tried to hurt Ste.


    When William walked in, they froze, panic shing across their faces. Their bodies trembled, and they whimpered through the tape covering their mouths, eyes wide with terror. Each step William took echoed through the empty space, his polished shoes clicking against the concrete.


    He stopped in front of them, looming over their crumpled bodies. His expression was cold — no pity, no mercy.


    “Who sent you to go after Ste?”


    His voice was low, but it sliced through the silence, sending a chill down their spines.<fn609d> ???s ??????? ?s ?????? ?? ?ovelFind</fn609d>


    The thugs scrambled, shaking their heads frantically. Their fear was palpable. They never expected to fail, never thought they’d get tracked down by William’s men. Now, they were facing their worst nightmare.


    William tilted his head slightly, and one of his bodyguards moved in, ripping the tape off one thug’s mouth.


    “Please, Mr. Briggs, we’ll talk! We’ll tell you everything!”


    The thug’s voice cracked with desperation. “A w-woman hired us,” he stammered, still out of breath. “She paid half upfront, promised the rest after. Said we needed to scare thedy—rough her up a bit so she couldn’t work in theb for a while.”


    “A woman?” William’s eyes narrowed, his voice ice-cold. “What’s her name? What does she look like?”


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    The thug swallowed hard, trying to piece together what he remembered. “She didn’t give us a real name. The middleman called her Ms. Stanley. Pretty, sounded rich, with a sugary-sweet voice. Oh, and she had this small red butterfly tattoo on her right wrist. I remember that pretty well.”


    A spark lit in William’s eyes. Ms. Stanley. Red butterfly tattoo.


    Without saying a word, he pulled out his phone and showed the thug a picture. “Is this her?”


    The photo was of Harlow at a g, smiling brightly, the red butterfly tattoo standing out on her wrist. William had dug up the photo online. The g had been a major event, one the press had covered extensively.


    He didn’t know Harlow all that well, but he remembered her chatting with Nina that day—introduced as one of Nina’s close friends. The butterfly tattoo had stuck with him, a small detail that lingered in his mind.


    The thug’s face lit up in recognition. He nodded frantically. “Yeah! That’s her! That’s the one!”


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