Jewel Of His Heart Who Knew Love Could Be So Treacherous

The dim alleyway was shrouded in shadows, lit only by the weak, intermittent flicker of a streetlamp.

Cathryn Marsh had just reached the edge of the alley when a hand grabbed her arm, yanking her into a dark, suffocating corner.

Two drunkards, their stench thick with the acrid bite of alcohol, leaned unsteadily against the wall. The moment they spotted Cathryn, predatory grins spread across their faces, and they lunged at her, clawing at her clothes.

The overpowering stench and their violent grip sent waves of terror through her, and she twisted and thrashed against them with all her might.

"Help! Someone, help!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation.

The plea earned her a sharp slap, the sound cracking through the air like a whip.

"Shut up, bitch!" one of the men snarled, his tone dripping with malice. "You dared to cross the wrong person, and now you're gonna pay for it."

The other man leered, his voice cold and taunting. "No one's coming to save you tonight, sweetheart. Scream all you want; you're ours now. Be good, and I might even make it worth your while."

......

Suddenly, the low hum of a car engine echoed through the alley. A sleek black Maybach pulled up, its polished exterior gleaming even in the dim light. A window rolled down slowly, revealing a pair of piercing, icy eyes that surveyed the scene with chilling indifference.

The driver leaned forward, his voice calm but questioning. "Should we intervene, Mr. Wheeler?"

The man known as Mr. Wheeler didn't even blink, his expression impassive. "No. Drive on."

Inside the alley, Cathryn's panic swelled. Her torn clothes hung limply from her frame, and the sight of the car spurred her into an even more frantic struggle.

"Help! Please help me!" she cried out, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face.

One of the drunkards scowled, furious at her defiance, and struck her face hard. His grip tightened, tugging at the fabric of her dress.

Just as Cathryn felt the last thread of hope slipping away, the car that had begun to drive off screeched to a halt.

The doors opened, and two tall men stepped out with purposeful strides.

The man in the lead had a lean, elegant frame, his plain white shirt crisp and unadorned by any logos, a stark contrast to his commanding presence.

His cold, noble aura cut through the darkness like a blade, his sharp gaze fixed on the shadowy corner where Cathryn struggled.

Though he couldn't make out her face, he heard the sound of her soft sobs and desperate cries for help.

That voice—it tugged at something buried in his memory.

A flicker of recognition broke through the detached veneer of his eyes as he squinted. "Rylan, grab anything nearby. Make sure they regret this!"

Without hesitation, the man and his assistant, rushed into the corner, their sudden appearance startling the drunkards.

Hearing the sound of heavy footsteps, the drunken men froze, turning to face the intruders.

"Who the hell do you think you are, ruining my fun?" one of them sneered, his bravado tinged with drunken arrogance. "Do you even know who you're dealing with?"

Cathryn, her head pounding from the slaps, forced her eyes to focus—and then froze in shock.

Before her, it was Grayson Wheeler, who was now related to her in a way.

Grayson's usually impassive eyes now burned with a cold, simmering fury, his gaze locking onto her with the intensity of a predator honing in on prey.

The weight of his stare sent a wave of deeper terror washing over Cathryn, leaving her mind blank for a moment.

Freed from the drunkards' grasp, she snatched her purse off the ground and bolted, her heart hammering as she fled deeper into the alley.

Behind her, the sharp sounds of fists meeting flesh and the pained screams of the drunkards filled the air. She didn't dare look back.

She ran as though her life depended on it, her feet carrying her through the maze of the dark alleyway. Finally, she stumbled into a bustling street, the glow of lights and the savory aroma of street food pulling her back to reality.

Leaning against a wall, she gasped for breath, her mind racing with a single thought.

Was Grayson back? He once said he'd be gone for five years. So why was he back after only three?

Did he catch a glimpse of her face just now? It was dark, and she had been hidden in the shadows. Surely, he couldn't have recognized her, right?

But why would someone as cold and detached as him bother to stop and save her?

In her memories, even if someone collapsed in front of him, he wouldn't spare them a second glance. So why, of all people, would he be the one to intervene?

Cathryn shook her head, pushing the thought aside. No, she had already been humble enough in front of him once. She couldn't allow him to see her like this—broken and pitiful.