Chapter 611 Checkmate

What surprised Peggy was that her words—so deliberately vicious, so calculated to wound—didn’t provoke any reaction at all from Owen.

She frowned in confusion, glancing up at him.

“You think just because Timothy raped me, we can’t get a divorce? I mean, without that 'proof,' who’s gonna believe I made a false report against you—”

Before she could finish her sentence, she froze in horror.

Owen had reached up to the lamp and retrieved a small device.

She recognized it instantly.

A hidden camera.

He transferred the footage to his phone, watching the recorded video with an eerie calm before murmuring, “You married me hoping to climb higher, right? Well then, tell me—once this footage gets out, what kind of elite family would still give you a second look?”

He turned the screen toward her.

Peggy’s face went white as a sheet.

The old man’s face, her own—every revolting detail was crystal clear. Nothing had been missed.

It was the kind of clip that would get classified under “disturbing fetish” if posted online—repulsive to even glance at.

Owen said flatly, “Your rich-wife fantasy ends with me.”

Peggy couldn’t speak. Her body, her dignity—it was all gone. But it was this—this blackmail—that chilled her to the bone.

He had her. Completely.

Owen lifted his gaze. “So… still thinking about calling the cops?”

With Peggy’s arrogance doused like a bucket of cold water, Owen no longer saw any reason to treat her seriously.

He left her room and headed for Timothy’s.

Through the door—barely ajar—Timothy could be seen passed out cold on the bed, belt still undone.

Owen walked in, completely unconcerned that he might wake up mid-act and lash out.

He grabbed the unconscious man by the ankles and dragged him right off the bed like a dead pig. Even when Timothy hit the ground with a loud thud, he didn’t stir.

Owen kept dragging him, step by step, down the stairs.

Peggy, still cuffed to the bed, could hear strange scraping sounds, but couldn’t see a thing. She couldn’t accuse Owen of anything without proof.

Ten minutes later, Timothy was locked inside a dog cage in the Saunders family’s basement—still dead asleep.

Owen stared down at him with absolute coldness, then pulled out his phone and called Lily, “Mom, you can come home now.”

Everything that followed was recounted to Yunice by the biker guy.

Just hearing it made Yunice’s skin crawl.

When he finally finished, her voice was slightly shaky. “Medical students… really are high-risk for turning into criminals.”

The biker asked, “So… did Timothy die?”

Otherwise, why wasn’t he moving?

“No, he’s not dead,” Yunice replied. “If he were, Owen wouldn’t have bothered locking him in a cage. He hasn’t cleaned up the evidence yet—he wouldn’t let Timothy off that easy.”

She had a good idea how Owen pulled it off.

The chair cushion at dinner had likely been filled with dense memory foam—comfortable, yes, but also ideal for hiding something.

When Timothy sat down, the cushion compressed instantly beneath his weight. That’s when he got injected.

Owen had probably hidden a syringe under the padding. As Timothy sat down with full force, the needle shot straight in, releasing the drug into his system. Then he quickly stood up, and the foam bounced back, swallowing the syringe. All that remained was the detached needle lodged in his ass.

Of course, someone like Timothy—uncouth and arrogant—would never suspect such a setup. He’d assume Owen was too scared to actually harm him.

And Owen hadn’t killed him. He’d just knocked him out with something strong—probably a sedative mixed into the drinks.

He knew Timothy had his eyes on Peggy. So he’d served him alcohol, let him get drunk and bold, and then watched as he walked right into the trap.

Once he got the footage he wanted, Owen locked him away like a rabid dog.

The whole thing left Yunice shaken. Deeply disturbed.

Owen used to be someone who simply drifted with the current. A weak villain sinking deeper and deeper into crime.

But now… now he—

Any step along the way—at any point—he could’ve turned back. Turned himself in. Apologized.

If he had, he probably would’ve gotten off with a lighter punishment.

All just to keep up his lies, he’d gone and ruined himself completely.

The biker’s words echoed through the line. “Should we call the cops now? If we do it now, everything gets—”

Chapter 612 The Point of No Return