On the drive back, Simon's mind raced as he replayed the events over and over. Had he taken any medication?
No, he hadn't.
All of a sudden, a flash of memory hit him—someone had made him down several drinks.
Simon slammed on the brakes.
It was them.
Those vile bastards!
Without hesitation, he spun the car around and sped toward a nearby residential district.
...
"Mr. Jovarek, it seems he managed to find his way here," Santiago said, observing Simon's furious gestures through the surveillance feed.
Zedrick barely reacted. "Took him long enough. His vigilance is almost comical."
Before Simon left that night, Zedrick had ensured he consumed a specific drug—one that was notorious in underground nightclubs overseas. It was a drug that would render him infertile.
It was banned, with a composition so elusive that even international records couldn't trace it.
Though it wouldn't kill him, it would erase any hope of him having an heir. It was not the worst punishment, all things considered.
"Let him in."
Moments later, Simon stormed into the room, pointing a finger at Zedrick. "It was you, wasn't it? What the hell did you make me drink?"
He was a man on the edge—reckless, frantic, and desperate.
Meanwhile, Zedrick lounged on the couch, calm and unbothered. It was a stark contrast to Simon's explosive rage. "And what exactly did I make you drink?"
"Stop playing dumb!" Simon was seething, his fury spiraling out of control. In a fit of rage, he grabbed whatever was within reach and hurled it across the room.
"You bastards! What did I ever do to deserve this? Do you really think you can just walk all over me? I'll sue you! I'll make sure you're ruined in Greenfield City!"
He didn't know exactly who these people were, but there had to be laws—some form of justice—on his side.
Zedrick didn't even blink. "Then sue," he said.
Simon's chest heaved with fury. "You—"
It was obvious that Zedrick had no intention of giving him any answers.
"With hands like yours, how dare you even try to pass yourself off as Shirley? Even a damn child could do a better job! Hell, if I picked up a crochet hook myself, I'd probably outdo you with ease!"
His frustration reached its breaking point, and with a fierce kick, he sent the desk toppling to the floor.
His eyes burned into her, his voice sharp with disdain. "You're unattractive, incompetent, and utterly talentless. What on earth made you think you could compete with Janice for a man?"
Humiliation washed over Heidi, but fear kept her silent. Even shedding a tear felt dangerous. She knew it would only fuel his rage.
Louis finally saw the truth. He had been deceived. Heidi had no connection to Shirley. He had wasted all this time for nothing.
The realization sent his rage spiraling. He jabbed a finger at Heidi, his gaze dark with menace.
"When your wounds heal or not, you're going out to find Shirley. I don't care how—you will find her. If you fail, don't bother coming back alive. And don't even think about running. My men will be watching your every move."
Heidi's chest clenched with resentment.
Why wouldn't he just let her go?
Wasn't admitting her mistake enough?
She would never dare to impersonate Shirley again.
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