Chapter 948

That night, Andrew drove Francesca back to the villa on the hill.

“Andrew, you were amazing today. Even Finley couldn’t beat you!” Francesca exclaimed, her gaze flickering away from his.

Andrew raised a brow. “What’s wrong, Fran? You’ve been acting weird the whole way home.”

Francesca’s cheeks turned red. “It’s nothing… I just think we should sleep in separate rooms tonight.”

Andrew smirked. “What, your period came?”

“Shut up!” Francesca snapped, her face burning. “Can’t a girl just want some space?”

Andrew grabbed her wrist, his voice firm. “Nope.”

She struggled for a moment before giving up. “Ugh, you’re such a jerk!”

Blushing, she dove under the covers. If she could not fight him, she might as well enjoy it.

With another night of aching muscles coming, she could not help but feel both nervous and excited. She thought Andrew had way too much energy.

However, just as she braced herself, Andrew suddenly said, “Get some rest tonight. I need to train.”

Before she could react, he walked out and shut the door behind him.

Francesca lay there, stunned. She thought, “I already took a shower, got all ready, and this is what I get? Train? What the hell is so important that it can’t wait till after?”

She huffed. “Andrew, don’t tell me you’re practicing some weird martial arts technique that requires abstinence?”

Behind the door, Andrew chuckled. “If you keep yelling, I’ll cancel training. But instead… I’ll make sure you don’t get any sleep till sunrise.”

Francesca’s face went pale. If he kept going till morning, she would not even be able to walk tomorrow! She clamped her mouth shut immediately.

Inside the blanket, she mumbled a string of curses. “Pervert. Monster. Filthy animal…”

However, no matter how much she complained, she still tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

She had gotten so used to him being there. Suddenly, having a quiet night felt strange.

Meanwhile, outside Moonlit Apothecary, a group of shadowy figures crept closer.

Shawn was leading them, and he whispered, “Mr. Wright only has one request–burn this place to the ground.”

He turned to his men, his gaze cold. The men nodded and lifted their gas cans, ready to set the place ablaze.

Shawn strode toward the entrance and waved his hand. “Do it.”

Before the men could act, muffled sounds filled the night–bodies hitting the ground one after another with loud thuds.

Shawn froze. He turned around, only to see his men sprawled out, unconscious–only one figure remained standing.

Shawn’s breath caught in his throat. He mumbled, “Damn! Isn’t that the damn security guard from this afternoon? Why the hell is he still here?!”

Then, he shouted, “Son of a bitch, you wanna play hero?”

He yanked a knife from his pocket. “I’ll kill you!”

He lunged, aiming straight for the man’s chest.

Phantom Eye scoffed, quickly twisting the blade out of Shawn’s grip. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he drove it right into Shawn’s own hand.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the night. Shawn dropped to his knees, clutching his impaled hand as pain exploded through him, making his entire body tremble.

Phantom Eye stepped forward and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backward. “Get away from here, you loser. Next time, I’ll kill you!”

Elsewhere, in a lavish five-star hotel in Jayrodale, Quinton sat at the head of an elegant dining table. As a prestigious young heir from Blumedale, he was dining with the Stevens family.

“Mr. Wright, let me toast to you!” Leroy raised his glass, grinning as he flattered Quinton.

Quinton barely acknowledged him, not even bothering to lift his drink. His eyes remained locked onto Christina.

He thought, “What a cold, stunning beauty. Shawn wasn’t lying–Christina, the Ice Queen, is definitely worth the effort.”

Quinton finally lifted his glass and smiled. “Ms. Stevens, would you do me the honor of sharing a drink?”

Leroy’s smile stiffened. He awkwardly held his glass midair, unsure whether to drink or not.

Irene nudged Christina and whispered, “Christie, Mr. Wright is waiting. Hurry up!”

Christina hesitated but eventually raised her glass. “Mr. Wright, drink as you please. My alcohol tolerance isn’t great, so I won’t be downing it all at once.”

Quinton chuckled, playing the gentleman. “Ms. Stevens, just the fact that you’re toasting with me is enough. Drink as much or as little as you like.”