Chapter 145: It’s About to Drop
Paul had dragged in $4 million in cash just to show off—to prove his power in front of everyone. It was impressive; in less than an hour, he’d managed to pull together $4 million in cash. That took real muscle.
But this new demand—fourteen thousand dollars in coins—was a whole different kind of challenge. Not many people could pull that off. Only someone with Quinton’s connections could get his friends to withdraw it from different banks, little by little.
Watching Quinton make call after call, Paul’s face started to darken. Elsie noticed his expression and, always the considerate one, stepped in for him. She turned to Quinton and asked sweetly, “Mr. Quinton, are you really going to go against the Powell family just for her?”
Paul gave Elsie a grateful look. That was what he liked most about her. He cared about pride; even when he felt unsure, he couldn’t show it. But Elsie—she would say what he couldn’t.
Yunice wasn’t like that. In situations like this, she always told him not to be impulsive, laid out all the consequences, and made him feel small in front of his enemies. He was scared Yunice might actually go through with it, but he couldn’t back down—he couldn’t show weakness.
So Quinton had better understand exactly what he was stepping into. But Quinton just smiled. “Haven’t I already made it obvious whose side I’m on?”
Elsie frowned. Paul clenched his jaw.
Quinton added, “And I should really thank the both of you—for giving me this perfect opportunity.”
“You!” Paul was so angry he nearly spat blood.
Quinton might’ve been older and not particularly powerful, but he had a reputation for being a sly old fox. When it benefited him, he didn’t care about enemies or allies. Right now, he was backing Yunice—consequences be damned.
Owen looked at Paul’s pale, green-tinged face, then at Quinton, who looked ready to party. He couldn’t help falling into deep thought. What was Yunice’s leverage? Why would Quinton treat her words like gospel? Could it be Dad’s medical journals? Last time, Quinton had kidnapped Yunice over those notebooks. So now, instead of threats, he was using flattery.
Unacceptable. Those journals belonged to the Saunders family—not just Yunice. She had no right to use them for her own gain.
As tension filled the air, no one spoke. Elsie kept glancing at the time, her eyes full of anxiety. The ten minutes Yunice and Quinton had agreed on were almost up.
Is there still a way out of this?
That was when a strange noise suddenly echoed from somewhere—not clinking coins, but a clattering, mechanical rumble. Elsie and Paul stiffened like startled birds, glancing around in alarm. “What’s that sound?”
It almost sounded like construction work.
Vilnice looked at Quinton questioningly. Quinton furrowed his brow and gave a slight shake of his head—it wasn’t him.
But just his luck—he tripped on something. His knees buckled, and he hit the ground hard with a loud thud. Owen, who’d been desperate for answers, was speechless. He was about to go see for himself when Paul suddenly growled, “Wyatt…”
He said it through gritted teeth, eyes full of spite, glaring toward the Saunders mansion gate. Wyatt walked toward them, steady and unhurried, leaning on a cane.
Gill’s eyes lit up. She grabbed Yunice’s shoulders and shook her excitedly. “Ms. Saunders! It’s Mr. Cooper! You don’t have to fight this alone!”
Yunice’s vision blurred from the sudden jostling. Her head swam. By the time she looked up again, Wyatt was already close.
How’d he show up at the perfect moment…
Wyatt’s gaze swept over Paul like he didn’t exist, then passed him completely. He walked straight to Yunice—and took her hand. Yunice looked up at him, startled and unsure. But there was no warmth in his eyes—only a sharp, cold warning.
“Back home. I’ll deal with you there,” Wyatt muttered above her head. Yunice went silent. Paul stared at their joined hands, his eyes full of barely restrained rage.
Wyatt turned to Quinton next, his expression calm—but his smirk venomous. Quinton caught that look and felt a chill run down his spine. That wasn’t just a glance—it was a threat.
Wyatt, still holding Yunice’s hand, led her aside and stood with her silently. Everyone waited for him to speak—but he said nothing. Above them, the grinding, clattering sound continued. Paul finally couldn’t take it anymore.
“Wyatt, is this noise your doing?”
Owen turned to Yunice, his voice full of reproach. “Yunice, what are you trying to pull now?”
That noise really did sound like multiple bulldozers. Could it be… Yunice and Wyatt were planning to demolish the home?