This decision came with risks.
It meant they were temporarily placing all their bets on Jace’s character.
“Grant doesn’t control someone for no reason. If someone ends up in his hands, he’ll ensure they’re used to their fullest potential,” Justin said, his voice heavy with concern. “We have to figure out what Grant is planning. That’s the only way we have a shot at finding Yvonne!”
*
The press conference was scheduled for 5:00 p.m. on Saturday, in the main conference hall of the Salvador Hotel.
The clock had just struck 3:00 p.m.
In the Salvador Corporation President’s Office, Grant sat stiffly on the sofa with a grim expression.
Clarice stood beside him, trembling as she carefully tended to the wound on his left ear, wrapping it in gauze.
It had only been two days since he was shot. The torn flesh had been stitched back together, leaving a hideous, centipede-like scar that was impossible to hide unless he wore a long wig.
Grant, who had once seemed refined and graceful, now appeared shrouded in darkness. A chilling presence radiated from him, putting those nearby on edge.
Clarice stammered, “I-I’m sorry, sir... I did my best.”
Her hands trembled uncontrollably. She was not a makeup artist, and Grant’s wound was still bleeding and oozing pus in the morning. There was only so much she could do.
Drew was truly a ruthless and bold man. Not to mention, elusive.
Despite having her subordinates search Savrow for three days and staking out the Thompson family residence, hoping for a chance to get back at him, she had not even caught a glimpse of Drew.
Grant's pale lips moved slightly as he spoke impatiently, “Useless. Get out.”
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