Captive Hearts: The Tycoon's Ugly Bride

Chapter 63 Your Leg or Your Life

Chapter 63 Your Leg or Your Life

Blanche breathed a sigh of relief that Sam had been close by. Without his help, neither of them could have come out alive.

Suddenly, she felt a stinging pain in her face.

Blanche closed her eyes, only now realizing the state of her face. One of the thugs had pressed her face against the wall, causing friction and leaving her with bruises all over her body.

She extended a finger and lightly touched her cheek, which was sore and numb. Her face had swollen up considerably.

Without a doubt, her skin must have been scraped. She gasped at the thought, wondering if she had been disfigured. She had purposely made herself look ugly before. Would she become a real ugly person?

Unable to see the extent of the damage, Blanche leaned in closer, hoping that Louis could help determine the severity of her injuries.

"Is my face severely damaged? Will it disfigure me?" Blanche asked anxiously. Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

If her face was really ruined, it would be a huge problem. She would have to wear a mask for the rest of her life.

As the swollen face moved closer to him, Louis' mind went blank for a while, but he quickly regained his composure and looked into Blanche's eyes, which were tinted with worries.

"I don't know so. Jack, take her home."

He closed the door, but before it clicked shut, he seemed to remember something and added, "Even if you're disfigured, I won't mind."

The car door closed, and he turned to head toward Sam, who was dealing with the group of thugs.

Blanche blinked, uncertain if she had heard Louis correctly.

Jack, who was waiting outside the car, noticed that Louis hadn't gotten in and took a step forward.

"Mr. Herbart, come back with us. The Black Pill is potent, and even with the antidote, you need to rest, or it will cause great harm to your body," Liu advised.

But Louis paid no attention to Jack's words. He still had important matters to attend to.

Blanche's eyes swiveled, and she muttered, "What exactly is the Black Pill?"

Jack sighed heavily as he sat in the front seat, his face etched with worry. "Mrs. Herbart, let me take you back home first."

Blanche nodded and looked out the window.

Louis was standing there upright. Those men had been taken down by Sam, and they were sprawling out on the ground.

"Sam is amazing, fighting against five," Blanche marveled. Sam was undoubtedly the best fighter she had ever seen.

In the front seat, Jack chuckled. "Mrs. Herbart, Sam is indeed impressive, but Mr. Herbart is even more skilled. You'll see for yourself in the future."

Blanche was taken aback by Jack's statement, but she smiled through the rearview mirror.

"The Black Pill is a potent drug sold on the black market. After people take it, their limbs will immediately go numb and they will lose all strength. Mr. Herbart accidentally took it but was able to resist its effects through sheer force of will."

Though he had never tried the Black Pill, the drug sounded terrible. What wicked people would drug others with this kind of evil medicine?

Seeing that Blanche wasn't speaking, Jack glanced in the rearview mirror and realized she was covered in injuries. Anger rose in him.

"Mrs. Herbart, your whole body is injured and your neck is swollen too. I can't believe these people have the heart to hurt a woman."

Her neck? Blanche took out her phone and brushed aside her disheveled hair to take a photo of her neck. Indeed, a clear footprint was visible on her neck.

This must be from the man who knocked her down when she tried to get up from the ground. Blanche looked out the window. Those bastards had already been dealt with, but her injuries still hurt. She felt it was necessary to vent her anger.

Today was the first time in her life she'd been forced to kneel to someone.

At that, Blanche opened her contacts.

Outside, Sam stood next to Louis. "Those bastards have been put in line. What's the next step?"

Louis' eyelids drooped.

pressed his eyelids. These were all Wilburn's lackeys.

Just as Louis was about to tell them to get up and go find Wilburn, Blanche called him.

He turned back and found the car had driven off. Blanche was calling him? Louis was stunned for a moment before answering.

"What's up?"

Blanche pouted on the other end of the phone.

"Just now, those bastards shoved me against the wall, made me kneel, and kicked me. There's even a footprint on my neck."

Blanche recounted what happened very aggrievedly. Louis froze, looking at the fierce man at his feet, and pressed his lips into a thin line.

He could tell what Blanche was implying with her muffled voice.

Louis' gaze moved from the thug's face to his feet. The bastard was wearing a pair of boots. With a kick from those, even a man couldn't withstand it, let alone a weak woman.

Louis' phone buzzed as a message came in. He checked it out and found it was a photo sent by Blanche.

In the photo was her injured neck. Her originally delicate neck was now bruised and purple with a clear footprint.

"It was their leader who kicked me. He kicked me so hard that my neck almost broke," Blanche grumbled over the phone.

If the car hadn't already left and she wasn't covered in injuries herself, she would have gotten out and taught that bastard a lesson.

Sending these photos to Louis was also to let him understand just how badly she had been mistreated and that they absolutely could not let those thugs get away with this.

The line beeped as she hung up the phone. Louis put down his phone, his expression tightening.

Sam asked, "Boss, what's up?"

Louis put his phone in his pocket and kicked the fierce-looking man's leg.

"This leg of yours is an eyesore."

Louis' tone was bland, but his gaze was intimidating. The man retracted his leg warily.

"What do you want? I was just following orders. I can take you to Wilburn, but please don't hurt me."

Sam took out a gun and pointed it at his head, slowly pulling the trigger.

"Your leg or your life. Make a choice."

The man shook in fright. Before the trigger was pulled, he immediately made the wisest choice. Sweating profusely, he grabbed a rock next to him and smashed it into his leg.

A scream cut through the air.