Chapter 732 Elevator Horror (3)

Surrounded by darkness, Manuel resumed thumping the door. The longer they remained trapped, the greater the danger.

About ten minutes passed. Neither knew if the elevator might plunge again. Susan flinched at his sudden banging, sensing his growing panic. The fear of death overwhelmed her composure; she clung to his back for support.

Then, they both heard a faint sound from outside. A voice broke the silence: "Anybody inside?"

Manuel pounded on the door in response.

The voice responded, "Oh, jeez, someone's trapped. Don't panic. I'm calling for help."

It was likely a security guard. Fortunately, the building's security personnel were responsible; the guard had probably noticed the elevator malfunction.

"Hey, wait!" Manuel shouted.

The guard, apparently preoccupied, didn't notice. Manuel wrestled the door open a crack, yelling, "Hey, wait!"

Susan, hearing the guard, was surprised by Manuel's strength. The guard was attempting to make a call but struggled with poor reception and started to move.

"Mr. Johnson?" the guard recognized his voice.

"The reception's terrible here. Get out of the building and call Henry first," Manuel instructed.

Both Susan and the guard were startled.

"I'll give you his number. Write it down."

The guard quickly retrieved his phone.

After providing the number, Manuel continued, "Tell Henry that Susan and I are trapped in the elevator."

"Yes, sir."

"Then notify the technician team and tell them to hurry."

"Yes, sir!"

"Make it quick!" Manuel urged, his composure firm.

The guard hurried down the stairs. Manuel released the door, allowing it to close.

Susan, shivering slightly, forced herself to calm down.

"Are we going to survive?" she whispered timidly. The guard's arrival offered a glimmer of hope, but Manuel remained silent, unsure. He couldn't be certain if Henry's intentions were truly malicious, or if he would abandon Susan to her fate. The worst-case scenario—their deaths—was a stark possibility, and the guard's call might even hasten it.

Nervousness consumed him, while Susan, unaware of the potential danger, felt relieved. Manuel chose not to alarm her further.

Silence descended. Susan waited for rescue, while Manuel braced himself for Henry's actions.

Henry had left early that day, knowing Manuel would likely work late on his first day back. His plan was simple: have someone sabotage the elevator and await Manuel's death in the resulting "accident."

Thinking this, Henry poured himself a drink. Checking his watch, he anticipated the "good news." His phone buzzed—he expected it to be his accomplice, but it was a stranger.

Hesitantly, he answered, "Hello?"

"Mr. Parker, Mr… Mr. Johnson and Miss Phillips are trapped in the elevator," the nervous guard stammered.

Henry's face paled. He leaped up, demanding, "Who? Who's trapped?"

"Mr. Johnson and Miss Phillips!" the guard managed to articulate.

Henry's hand trembled, whether from fear or madness, he couldn't tell. He recalled Susan's plans to visit Hannah that night.

How had she ended up in the building? Worse, alone with Manuel.

Henry's face contorted. He almost succumbed to his murderous intent, but the image of Susan's terrified face stayed his hand. She was not independent or resilient; she must be terrified.

His heart ached, his expression grim.

"Mr. Parker, I'm calling the technicians now."

The guard hung up, confused by the request to call Henry first, but promptly notified the technicians and returned to the building.

Meanwhile, rage filled Henry as his phone rang again. He answered.

"We're about to cut the last wire," the voice said, seeking confirmation.

Mixed emotions flooded Henry. Despite his viciousness, he gritted out, "No."

The voice, confused, asked, "You mean don't cut it?"

"That's right. Stop," Henry snapped.

"But he was going to survive."

"I know! Just leave, now!" Henry cried, on the verge of a breakdown.

"Yes, sir."

Henry slammed the phone down, kicking over the table, sending his wine splashing across the floor.

He glared at the mess, consumed by self-hatred. He'd missed a perfect opportunity, yet the thought of Susan's suffering—the image of her lifeless body—haunted him, a permanent scar on his soul.