Chapter 486 Everyone Deserves a Reckoning

Victor smirked in disdain as Paul finally shut up.

A car horn blared outside the Crawford estate. It was already 2:20 in the morning. This should’ve been the deepest part of the night, when people were fast asleep, but not a single soul in the Crawford house looked remotely drowsy.

Footsteps approached. Victor walked in, dragging a bound Paul behind him.

“Father, I brought him.”

After speaking, Victor stepped behind Carl.

Paul stood in the middle of the hall, looking around at the scattered faces seated on various sofas. Owen was shielding a battered Elsie. Lily sat beside her. Yunice sat calmly by herself, composed and collected. Oscar sat across the room, his expression neutral. Carl and Victor showed no trace of emotion.

Owen cast a heavy glance at Yunice, wondering what Carl had said to her when they stepped out earlier.

After a beat, Yunice suddenly asked Victor, “Where’s Wyatt?”

Wyatt had been the one to capture Paul. He should’ve arrived with them. Why wasn’t he here?

Victor replied, “Mr. Jackson put up a fight. Wyatt stayed back to cover our retreat. Don’t worry–he’ll be here soon.”

Now that Wyatt’s position was secure, the old man didn’t have any real leverage against him.

Yunice didn’t respond. She quietly rubbed her phone and, still uneasy, shot Wyatt a text:

“Are you here?”

After sending it, she set her phone down and looked over at Paul. Like everyone else, she noticed the thick bandages covering his face.

“What happened to your face?” she asked.

Paul flushed red and ignored her. His temper flared. “What the hell is this? You people looking to take it out on me?”

Carl remained composed in his seat. “You should know why you’re here.”

Paul instinctively glanced at Yunice, guilt flickering across his face.

But relying on his Powell family status, he didn’t take Carl seriously at all.

Carl rubbed his temples with a tired, impatient look. Then he turned to Victor. “I’m exhausted. Wrap him in a sack and toss him in the river.”

Paul’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Victor stepped toward him with a faint smile. “Surprised? You’ve stepped on everyone to get to the top. What makes you think you’re untouchable?”

Only the ruthless survive in Silverburgh.

Paul didn’t have to apologize or explain. His life alone could be the apology Yunice deserved. That was the backing Carl had promised her.

As the sack was pulled over Paul’s head, the panic finally hit him. He thrashed wildly. The edge of the burlap scraped across his face, and in the struggle, it tore off his bandages completely.

Yunice slowly frowned as she took in the scars across his face.

Elsie, who had been collapsed on the couch, suddenly bolted upright. “Paul–your face…”

Two words were carved into Paul’s cheeks–one on each side.

Realizing the marks had been exposed, Paul forgot to struggle. He clutched his face in horror, desperate to hide from everyone’s eyes.

But Yunice, deliberately loud, read the marks aloud: “'Whore'? Who did this? What a perfect match–really captured your essence.”

Oscar tilted his chin slightly, silently savoring the recognition.

Paul was both terrified and humiliated–shaken by the exposure and afraid Victor might actually toss him into the river.

But Victor didn’t give him a chance to regret. He waved his hand. “Wrap him up. Dump him.”

The Saunders family members were all scared stiff. No one expected someone as upright as Carl to authorize a public execution.

“Victor!” Owen finally stepped in–he had no choice.

If Paul died, the Saunders family would be dragged down with him.

Just then, Yunice suddenly stood up.

Paul froze mid-struggle.

Was she… going to plead for him?

But the thought lasted only a second. Yunice gave him a brief glance, then turned and walked away. Not a single word on his behalf.

Owen’s face fell too, silently cursing Yunice’s cold-bloodedness.

But Yunice had already left the hall. She didn’t care whether Paul lived or died. What she cared about was this: It had already been two minutes. Why hadn’t Wyatt replied?

Sure, Wyatt was young and headstrong. Even in the Powell family, no one could control him easily, but she still wasn’t at ease.

She stepped outside and made a call. She had to hear his voice herself to feel at peace.