In the private room at Starlight, Harry was surrounded by a throng of people vying for his attention, urging him to drink. When his phone rang, he seized the opportunity to escape. It was a video call. As soon as he answered, an unsightly, brutish face appeared.

“This is Mr. Sutton,” the man said. “Your woman is in my hands. If you want her back, come and get her immediately. Otherwise, prepare for the consequences.” He turned the camera to reveal Quinn’s tear-streaked face.

Harry, slightly tipsy moments before, sobered instantly at the sight of her distress. “Ms. Lawson, is that you? Where are you?” he asked urgently.

“Do you want to know where we are? Sure, but don’t call the police. I guarantee she won’t make it until they arrive,” the man said, hanging up immediately.

Staring at his darkened phone screen, Harry grasped the seriousness of the situation. He immediately dialed Cameron’s number. “Ms. Lawson has been kidnapped,” he said.

Cameron’s voice was eerily calm. “I’m heading back to the hotel now,” Harry said, rising and brushing past the others who tried to stop him.

Meanwhile, at the Luxe Hotel security monitoring room, Cameron stood beside Wyant. “Mr. Sutton, should we report this to the police? With the surveillance footage, they could trace the vehicle,” Wyant suggested.

Cameron dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand.

Quinn was held in an unknown warehouse. Bound hand and foot with coarse rope, the pressure caused sharp discomfort. She hadn’t eaten since the night before, and hunger, coupled with exhaustion, left her near collapse.

“Please, let me go,” she pleaded weakly. “He won’t come for me. Our relationship isn’t what you think. I’m not important to him.”

“Still trying to fool us? I saw how worried he was on the phone,” the tattooed man replied.

“That wasn’t Mr. Sutton. You called his assistant,” Quinn protested, wriggling.

“Even his assistant is nervous, proving my point,” the tattooed man countered confidently.

Realizing her pleas were futile, Quinn fell silent, conserving her energy. The seconds stretched into an eternity. She cried silently on the damp floor, cold, hungry, and terrified. Fear consumed her, but she dared not plead again, fearing it might provoke them.

Nearby thugs drank and played games, occasionally casting malicious glances her way.

The tattooed man called Harry again, his demeanor shifting from threatening to submissive upon receiving a response.