Chapter 307

At the hotel's front entrance, Michael felt his heart pounding. One of Atlas's men reported, "Mr. Giordano, we've searched every room, but there's no sign of them."

Atlas stood with his hands behind his back, his face impassive. Michael, however, breathed a sigh of relief. At least Finley had escaped; he wouldn't bear the consequences of this disaster alone.

"Mr. Giordano," Michael said with a forced smile, "as I've told you, you must have made a mistake. Our hotel isn't even open for business today." He tried to sound casual, eager for Atlas to leave before things went wrong. Atlas, however, gave him a sharp, icy glare. Michael forced himself to remain calm, meeting Atlas's gaze without flinching. Finley and Yvonne had already slipped out the back. Even if Atlas suspected something, he had no proof.

"Mr. Giordano," Michael said, feigning helplessness, "having your men search my hotel like this isn't good for business. How do you expect the Rhodes family to maintain its reputation?"

Atlas's expression remained unchanged, but his voice was glacial. "I'll ask you one more time—are you sure Finley and Yvonne aren't here?"

Michael stood tall, speaking firmly. "Mr. Giordano, do you really think I'd lie to you? This is a misunderstanding. Mr. Moore is your close friend, and Ms. Fuller is your woman! How could this possibly happen?"

His words, designed to absolve Finley, seemed to work. Atlas hesitated, his expression softening slightly. Perhaps Dylan and Natasha had lied to him. Yvonne had always been loyal, and she wouldn't dare betray him. Finley, though a womanizer, usually knew when to stop.

Atlas was about to admit his mistake when one of his men rushed over, looking nervous. "Mr. Giordano… Mr. Moore and Ms. Fuller… we've found them," he stammered.

Atlas's calm vanished, replaced by rage. "Where are they? Bring those shameless traitors to me!" he roared.

Michael's ears rang. His knees buckled as he wondered how they'd been caught. The world seemed to collapse around him.

Before he could comprehend what went wrong, Atlas's men dragged in Finley and Yvonne. Finley looked disheveled; Yvonne's messy hair and bruised body spoke volumes.

Atlas glared at them, his fury unrestrained. "Where did you find them?"

One of his men replied nervously, "At the back door, sir. They seemed to be escaping, but… but they came back and ran into us."

Yvonne threw herself at Atlas's feet, sobbing hysterically. "It's not what you think! Please, let me explain—I'm innocent!"