Chapter 1721


    “Martha, I found nothing.”


    “Same here,” came the echo.


    With a curt nod, Martha signaled them to tie up Arabe and Horace.


    They were in an unfinished high-rise, a skeleton of a building that rose neen stories into the sky.


    Without any windows, the chill outside swept in, bringing with it the snowkes that danced on the


    merciless wind.


    Horace couldn’t help but sneeze.


    He and Arabe were hauled up to the eighteenth floor, each bound to a cold, unyielding chair. Horace


    Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    squirmed, trying to find some semnce offort, but was promptly rewarded with a gun barrel


    pressed against his temple.


    “Don’t move,” a female killer hissed with icy precision.


    “Not even a twitch?” Horace quipped, his eyes widening as the gun dug deeper, coercing a resigned


    nod from him. Fine, fine, he''d stay put. What was the big deal anyway?


    Despite being tied up, Arabe exuded an aura of authority, as if she were the queen on a chessboard,


    moving pieces at her will.


    Martha stood at the edge of the 18th floor, holding Arabe''s phone. On the phone''s screensaver was a


    photo of Arabe and Romeo''s silhouettes, a photo that Romeo had sweet-talked Arabe into using.


    At that moment, Martha, whether out of anger for Serena or a desire to prevent Arabe from


    “Hey, that’s my boss’s phone.” Horace heard the crash, imagining the device in pieces. Was this


    woman nuts? Why smash it when confiscating it would’ve sufficed? That phone was actually developed


    by Arabe and had a lot of features, along with several confidential items inside.


    The killer pressed the gun harder against Horace’s head as if to silence him without words.


    Martha turned to see Arabe, once unattainably proud, and her loyal henchman Horace, now


    pathetically tied to chairs. Behind them stood hundreds of her guys. The two werepletely at her


    mercy.


    The thought brought a viciousugh to her lips. She had waited so long for this day.


    She thought about the six months of humiliation under Arabe''s thumb, the way her darling daughter


    Serena had been tormented by this wretch.


    Today, she would have her revenge.


    Her eyes, gleaming with malice, bore into Arabe as she stepped closer.


    Horace couldn’t fathom why this old bat kept breaking into these fits ofughter. Was she touched in


    the head?


    Martha grabbed Arabe’s bun, spitting venomously, “With all your identities, your sess out there,


    whye back for the Collins family heiress title? You could have lived well enough. but no, you chose


    toe back for your doom!”


    “Don’t you touch my boss! Come at me if you dare!” Horace bellowed. “You think you''re worthy of


    touching her hair?”


    Martha turned to Horace with a mocking smile. “Oh, look at the loyal little pup. You, my dear, have quite


    a knack for winning hearts. In the Collins household, you swayed all the servants loyal to Serena.


    Impressive. Someone gag him.”


    Muffled protests came from Horace, even with his mouth gagged, he struggled fiercely, itching to take a


    swing at the old hag.


    Damn it, they could do whatever they wanted to him, butying a finger on his boss? That was a line no


    one was allowed to cross.