Chapter 677

Andrew's icy gaze swept over Victoria's face. With a curt nod, he pocketed the change expressionlessly before pushing open the convenience store door.

The crisp evening air hit him as he stepped outside. He hadn't walked ten paces when his phone buzzed violently in his pocket.

Fishing out a cigarette, he clamped it between his lips while retrieving the ringing device with his other hand.

Unknown caller.

He swiped to decline without hesitation.

On the other end, Daniel Foster cursed viciously. "Damn bastard! Ignoring my calls now?" His boot connected brutally with the woman kneeling before him. "Doesn't give a shit about his sister anymore?"

Isabella Morgan whimpered in agony. Fresh from a traumatic miscarriage, the kick to her abdomen nearly made her black out. Tears streaked her pale face as she pleaded hoarsely, "Please... just let me go."

Terror gripped her heart. In her six months back in the country, she'd only crossed paths with Evelyn Carter. But surely even Evelyn wouldn't orchestrate something this cruel.

"Let you go?" Daniel sneered, grabbing her chin roughly. "Do I look like the merciful type to you?"

"Wh-what do you want then?" Isabella's voice shook. "Money? Alexander Whitmore's loaded! Just let me call him—"

"You think we want Whitmore's dirty money?" Daniel spat, shoving her away. He jerked his head at Eric Simmons. "Watch her."

Bound tightly for twenty-four hours, Isabella's limbs had gone numb. Escape was impossible—blindfolded during transport, surrounded by armed men. But if not money... what?

The unknown terrified her more than any physical pain.

Eric crouched before her, his gap-toothed grin unsettling. "Hungry?" He unscrewed a water bottle tantalizingly.

Isabella lunged forward instinctively—only for him to pour it onto the concrete. Her stomach growled pathetically.

"Bastard," she whispered.

Eric chuckled darkly. "Patience, princess. Everything'll be clear soon." He took an exaggerated sip from another bottle. "If only dear Andrew would answer his damn phone..."

Isabella froze. "Andrew? That's impossible—"

"Alive and kicking," Eric confirmed, enjoying her shock. "Our boss's personal nightmare. Always interfering." He traced her tear-streaked cheek. "What's this? Didn't know your dead brother's been watching over you all these years?"

Her mind reeled. If Andrew was alive... why had he abandoned her? And what had he done to provoke these monsters?

The questions burned worse than her empty stomach.