She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 387

"Protect Ms. Sampson!" The Lonsdale family bodyguards were highly trained and reacted instantly. They collapsed their formation, forming a tight human shield around Loyce, using their bodies and arms to deflect the barrage of projectiles.

But the mob was closing in too fast. Despite the bodyguards' desperate efforts to hold the line, the sheer force of the irrational crowd pushed them back step by step. Loyce's space was shrinking rapidly; she could barely move an inch!

Inevitably, drinks splashed onto her clothes, leaving her looking entirely disheveled.

Hearing the commotion, Heath and the others rushed out of the annex, only to be horrified by the chaos. "Call the guards! Get the military police out here to protect her!"

Heath whipped his head around, glaring furiously at a bewildered Holt. "These are your fans?! Why do they think Loyce is the one who hurt you?! Did you incite them to cyberbully her online?!"

Holt shook his head frantically, his raspy voice raw with panic. "No, I didn't! It wasn't me!"

While he knew the situation had exploded online and that his fans were worried sick, he had never orchestrated the witch hunt. He had never intended to harm her—especially now that he knew she had ties to Hank Lonsdale. He wouldn't dare!

Camera flashes erupted like strobe lights! Onlookers and pedestrians, thrilled by the drama, had their phones out, recording every second of the chaotic, explosive scene.

Seeing the situation spiraling out of control, one of the older medical professors immediately suggested, "Holt, take off your mask and hat! Go out there and tell them this has nothing to do with Ms. Sampson! If she gets hurt, it'll be a massive loss to the medical community! A loss you could never repay!"

Holt hesitated, paralyzed. How could he face the public looking like this—barefaced and broken?

Fortunately, Heath, who had regained his composure, intervened. "These fans are out of their minds. If Holt shows his face now, it'll only make things worse."

"Oh, what are we going to do?! Where are the military guards?! Why is it taking them so long!"

Outside, Loyce was trapped in the center of the mob. Her usually aloof face was slightly pale under the relentless flashing of cameras, but her eyes remained remarkably calm. There was no panic—only a cold, calculating scan of her surroundings as she searched for a gap in the crowd.

Unfortunately, as more bystanders joined the frenzy, even the air around her began to thin out.

Loyce's gaze darkened incrementally.

Just then.

A deafening, aggressive blast from a military SUV horn ripped through the air, completely drowning out the screaming mob!

Without missing a beat, the tall man swept her off her feet, cradling her in his arms, and placed her into the back of the SUV.

Lucian slammed the door shut, immediately blocking out the strobe lights and the suffocating crush of the crowd. His eyes, sharp and lethal as frost-coated blades, swept over the fanatical mob. The look was one of absolute, aristocratic disdain, laced with an undisguised, murderous warning!

Wherever his gaze landed, the screaming insults froze in the air. Even the most unhinged fans instinctively shrank back, a chill sinking straight into their bones.

The military police from the annex finally arrived, forcibly clearing a path so the SUV could peel out of the parking lot.

Once the chaos faded from the windows, Loyce pulled the jacket off her head. She looked at the man driving with a tight jaw and asked mildly, "Why have you been smoking?"

Lucian's grip on the steering wheel tightened so hard his knuckles popped.

"Your first question is to ask why I've been smoking?"

He glanced at her, his eyes churning with complex emotions.