Chapter 231: Kick First, Ask Never
Yunice stayed calm because she felt everything was under control. She’d studied medicine; she knew exactly what to do to stop him if things ever spiraled. And because it hadn’t gotten to that point yet, she didn’t move. There was no benefit to pissing him off.
Just then, someone knocked on the door. Jordan’s voice came from outside. “Wyatt, something’s up.”
Wyatt grunted in response, finally shifting his gaze away from Yunice. He stepped out of the hospital room, yanking his tie loose with one hand; he was clearly annoyed.
Gordon followed after him and elbowed Jordan. “What’s going on?”
Jordan knew exactly what was going on but didn’t say a word. Gordon puffed up smugly. “You don’t have to say it—I already know. Wyatt’s all pent up! If you ask me, he should’ve just slipped her something and gotten her into bed. Ms. Saunders might even thank him for it—guy’s doing her a favor! Hilarious. There’s a shortcut, but he insists on this pure love crap…”
Jordan had just opened his mouth to warn him to shut up unless he had a death wish, but before he could say anything, Gordon suddenly went flying backward. Wyatt had stepped forward, eyes burning with fury. “What kind of drug were you thinking? I’ll help you find it.”
Gordon landed on the floor, stunned and speechless. Wyatt almost never laid hands on his own people; what the heck had set him off like this today? Realizing he’d walked straight into the line of fire, Gordon quickly admitted fault. “Wyatt, I swear I won’t run my mouth again!”
“I won’t say anything about Ms. Saunders ever again…”
Just hearing Yunice’s name made Wyatt even angrier. Gordon flinched, instinctively shielding his head with his arms. Jordan stepped in and blocked Wyatt. “Wyatt, he really got the message.” Then he glanced off to the side.
2:26 PM
The elevator went down—straight to the basement. The basement level was usually where the hospital morgue was. Word was, the corpse disguised to look like Yunice still hadn’t been claimed.
Wyatt shook Jordan off and, finally regaining some composure, said, “Get a few more people to keep watch here. If someone slips through again…” There was no need to finish the sentence; the murderous look in his eyes said it all. Without waiting for a reply, Wyatt stepped into the elevator. Only then did Jordan go help Gordon up from the ground.
Clutching his stomach, Gordon winced and groaned. “Wyatt couldn’t even stand straight—how the heck did he kick that hard? Any lower and I’d be out a vital organ…”
Jordan exhaled sharply. “Can you shut that mouth of yours?”
Still, something about the way Wyatt had kicked him seemed…off. Which leg had he used? Jordan hadn’t gotten a clear look; he hadn’t paid attention, and now he wasn’t even sure if he was imagining things. Why did it feel like Wyatt could stand just fine?
Gordon, big and burly as he was, wasn’t the type to overthink things. He just felt like he’d taken an unfair beating. “All I did was mention Ms. Saunders. It’s not like Wyatt’s that into her. Why’s he all defensive now? Didn’t he have someone else in—”
Jordan shot him a glare, fed up. “You got a death wish? Then keep talking.”
Realizing he’d stepped out of line again, Gordon’s face flushed red as he quickly shut up.
Paul strode toward the morgue. Lately, his life hadn’t changed much—still eating, still… Other than being wary of Wyatt’s revenge, he figured nothing in his life was really different. Sometimes, he even forgot Yunice was dead. But every time he returned to Maplecrest Manor and saw the empty pet room, a chill would hit him. That’s when he’d remember Moss was gone, and Yunice was gone too.
It felt like something out of a horror movie—one minute they were a happy trio, and the next, everything had drained to black and white, leaving only him behind.
Chapter 231: Kick First, Ask Never
After several days, Paul finally couldn’t take it anymore. He had the pet room torn down—pretended none of it had ever existed. Moss was the past; Yunice was the past. The dead were gone, and debts—whether owed or repaid—no longer mattered.
But then he’d dream of Yunice. And when he woke up in a sweat, the first thing he’d do was open a drawer and grab some sleeping pills—only to remember that Yunice had been the one who’d mixed them for him. That killed his appetite for pills; instead, he’d go back to his phone. And somehow, without meaning to, he started scrolling through his old social media.
He scrolled all the way back to three years ago, reliving his cringey, melodramatic younger self, post by post. Back then, he and Elsie hadn’t even gotten together yet; Yunice still appeared in his feed. But after that, nothing. He’d deleted her, bit by bit. If he scrolled all the way down now, he’d find not a single trace of Yunice left. Not even one photo.