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The sll of blood filled the room, suffocating.

Jason Grant stared at the person chained to the corner by a dog leash, sprawled like a heap of rotten flesh, his voice icy cold: "Dead yet?"

A long mont passed.

The person twitched, then slowly lifted his head to look at him.

eting those calm eyes, Jason’s heart suddenly clenched, but almost imdiately, he reminded himself—what was there to be afraid of?

"Isaac, if you hadn’t forced my hand first, I wouldn’t have had to resort to this."

Jason spoke, stepping forward a few paces.

"You think you’re tough, huh? I’m your goddamn uncle, and you conspired with your grandfather and your mom to send to hell!"

"...It was for your own good," Isaac Vaughn rasped, his voice hoarse.

"Bullshit!" Jason Grant cursed, fierce and loud. "Withdrawal centers are hellholes! All you get there is suffering and more suffering!"

Isaac’s face was ghostly pale, drained of strength. His dry lips parted as he whispered, "Uncle, if you stop now, it’s not too late."

"Heh! What’s this? Want to let you go?" Jason sneered. "Then beg —beg like a dog!"

"Isaac, let’s be real, it’s all because you’re too greedy. Are you still after The Grant Group? That’s mine! The Grant Group belongs to !"

Isaac bowed his head, silent.

He was simply too exhausted.

Blood mixed with sweat dripped from his forehead, staining the filthy, tattered clothes he wore.

Jason snorted in disgust, turning away.

As soon as he stepped out, he ran right into Sarah Sutton, climbing up again.

Sarah had her hands hidden behind her back, her face full of fear.

Jason cocked his head at whatever she was hiding. "What’s that?"

Sarah bit her lip, pulling the object from behind her to show him.

"Did I say you could bring him food and water? So now you’re bringing this?"

Sarah held a dical kit.

"You actually care about him, huh?"

Sarah clutched the dical kit tighter, summoned all her courage, and stepped forward, her voice trembling like a mosquito: "If... if his wounds aren’t treated, he’ll bleed to death..."

Jason frowned.

He knew Sarah was right.

He hated Isaac, but he didn’t want to kill anyone.

"Go on, then."

Upon hearing this, joy flashed uncontrollably in Sarah’s eyes, and she hurried to head toward the innermost room.

"Wait."

Suddenly, Jason stopped her.

Jason strode over to Sarah, gripping her chin hard until the skin turned bright red, staring into her eyes with a cold warning: "Rember, don’t try anything extra. If I find out you try to contact anyone for him, I’ll kill you."

Sarah nodded desperately.

The door opened again.

But Isaac was too weak to look up.

Rapid footsteps approached, and a second later, he heard a strange yet urgent female voice: "Young Master Vaughn, are you alright?"

Isaac slowly raised his eyes, emotion surging instantly in their depths.

Little Ear!

But then he jerked back to reality.

No.

It’s not Little Ear.

Thank God it isn’t.

He couldn’t imagine, for that split second, the terror that gripped him.

Terror that Jason Grant had gone mad enough to drag Natalie Kendall here, too.

"You?"

Disappointnt flashed in Sarah’s eyes, gone in a heartbeat.

Just like Jason said—she was nothing to him.

He’d already forgotten her.

But she rembered him—rembered him so deeply it was carved into her bones.

"Young Master Vaughn, my na’s Sarah Sutton. You helped once, when you were in your uncle’s hands."

Isaac rembered now.

So it was her.

"You... why are you here?"

"Young Master Vaughn, let clean your wounds first." Sarah opened the dical kit and reached out to Isaac Vaughn.

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