Chapter 273

Thea remained perfectly still, gripping the fruit knife ever tighter; cold sweat soaked the handle. She had already planned her attack—swift and forceful. Her strategy was simple: if she died, she would take someone with her. Just as the closet door creaked open, a sliver of light seeped through. Thea’s breathing quickened. Then, a clear voice whispered near her ear, "Thea, I'm here to get you out." It was Joyce.

This crazy girl, Thea thought. She escaped and returned, risking her life to save me? She’s insane!

"Rescue who?" Chad scoffed, as if amused. "Your friend's quite fond of you, huh? Perfect! She can warm up my blade. You two can keep each other company in hell."

As Chad's footsteps faded, Thea knew she couldn't relax. The moment she opened the closet door, her mind was made up: she would protect Joyce, even if it meant sacrificing herself.

But instead of screams, she heard only the thud of bodies hitting the floor.

"Joyce!" Thea rushed out. Chad and his henchmen lay sprawled on the ground.

Joyce brushed off her hands. Confirming Thea was unharmed, she sighed with relief, tears glistening in her eyes. "Thank goodness you're okay. I was so scared I'd be too late. Why did you do that? You had a chance to escape, and you gave it to me!"

Chad was pinned, helpless. The boy who had subdued him looked young, but his agility and strength were astonishing.

Thea was stunned. "They were after me. Of course, I had to protect you, Joyce. Where on earth did you find someone with his skills?"

The boy had single-handedly defeated Chad and his men with ease. Chad, Corey's trusted enforcer, was tossed around like a rag doll. It was unbelievable.

Joyce blushed. "His name's Jamie Miller. He lives on the 18th floor. Luckily, we met a good person. Otherwise, I don't know how I could have saved you, Thea. You can't do something so dangerous again!"

Jamie efficiently bound Chad and his men, preparing them for the police.

"Mr. Miller, thank you," Thea said, genuinely appreciative. "Not only for rescuing me, but for your willingness to help. It's rare to find someone so helpful, especially a stranger."

Nicolas arrived shortly after, along with the police. He’d been video-calling Thea nightly, and three unanswered calls had set off alarm bells. The broken lock, clear evidence of forced entry, chilled him. He found Thea chatting casually with another man. His face darkened.

Thea's eyes lit up at the sight of Nicolas. Though she wasn't one to hide her emotions, noticing the tension in his expression, she clutched her dress.

Nicolas swept Thea into his arms, his gaze falling on the neatly bound men. He understood instantly. "I should have been here sooner. I failed to protect you. Are you hurt, Thea?"

Joyce watched the couple with envy, feeling a longing for someone of her own—a feeling she’d already been experiencing in relation to Jamie.

"I'm fine," Thea replied, focused entirely on Nicolas's stern profile. "And we owe it all to Mr. Miller."

Nicolas relaxed upon hearing Jamie's story. Dressed in a sharp suit, he stood in stark contrast to Jamie's youthful appearance, yet both made a strong impression. Most were drawn to Nicolas's undeniable allure.

"Mr. Miller, thank you for saving my wife," Nicolas said, extending his gratitude—a rare occurrence. "If you ever need assistance, feel free to contact Hendrix Group. I'd be happy to help."

For a college student, Nicolas's offer was incredible, but Jamie only smiled shyly, scratching his head. "I just did what anyone would. Besides, it's my job."

Job? Nicolas's gaze narrowed. Jamie's casual response piqued his interest.

"Mr. Miller, may I ask where you work? Your efficiency suggests considerable skill," Nicolas probed.

Before Jamie could answer, Joyce stepped forward protectively. "Mr. Hendrix," she interrupted, blocking Nicolas's view of Jamie, "he's exhausted. Any questions can wait, don't you think?"

Even Thea noticed Joyce's protective stance. Joyce usually fled from Nicolas; now, she was defending Jamie. Thea chuckled. "Joyce, I've never seen you so… charitable."

"What do you mean?" Joyce stammered, blushing. "I'm always like this! I'm just following the police's fine example!"

Officer Logan called out, cuffing a suspect. "Jamie! Get over here!"

Thea then learned Jamie was fresh from the police academy, interning at a nearby precinct—a floor below them. What a coincidence!

Logan, sharp as a tack, recognized Nicolas from finance magazines. After delegating tasks to Jamie, Logan approached Nicolas with respect. "Mr. Hendrix, what should we do with these men?"

Logan faced a dilemma; he knew the significance of the men’s tattoos. "Attempted armed robbery and breaking and entering are serious enough for a long sentence," Logan began, hesitating.

Jamie, handcuffing a suspect, interjected, his idealism shining. "What's to hesitate about? These crimes deserve at least ten years, minimum."

Jamie's too young to understand the implications, Logan thought. It's better to leave this to Nicolas.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Logan said, "He's impulsive. Mr. Hendrix, you should decide."

Nicolas smiled slightly. "I think Mr. Miller is right. But ten years is too lenient. My legal team will ensure they serve life sentences."