She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 397

Holt nodded. "Yeah, they're part of the extended Lonsdale family, right? They have businesses in real estate and apparel, and they've always done a lot of charity work. When they crushed that illegal factory and saved a bunch of people, it made headline news. The mayor even commended them, and their good deeds were broadcasted nationwide."

Loyce tossed the acid bottle aside. In her heart, she was now certain that her disappearance back then was far from simple. Even the deaths of her biological parents, whom she had never met, were likely tied to a deeper conspiracy.

Her intuition was never wrong.

Having extracted all the necessary information, the sound of car engines echoed from the factory entrance.

Loyce walked over to the door and looked out. A fleet of police cars had arrived, along with nearby villagers who had come to watch the commotion.

Holt was completely disheveled. Seeing the crowd outside, his first instinct was to find something to cover his face.

Loyce knew that as a public figure and idol, his image was everything to him. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind her motorcycle.

Just as Lucian pushed open the factory doors with his men, he saw Loyce securing her helmet onto Holt's head. Her fingertips inadvertently brushed against Holt's slightly messy hair at his temples, completely hiding a face that was definitely not fit for the cameras under the visor. It successfully blocked out all the prying eyes and flashing police lights outside.

The sunlight traced Loyce's intensely focused profile. As she stood slightly on her tiptoes to adjust the helmet strap, the sight stabbed at Lucian, making his heart violently clench.

Robert instantly felt the temperature around him plummet. An invisible, freezing pressure expanded outward with Lucian at its epicenter. It was so cold that Robert subconsciously shrank his neck.

The General's devastatingly handsome face, which rarely showed emotion, was currently pulled entirely taut. His jaw was clenched so hard the muscles jumped, and a dark, churning storm of something Robert had never seen before—pure, unadulterated "jealousy"—raged in his deep eyes as he stared fixedly at the hand Loyce used to touch the other man.

That was a privilege Lucian had never experienced!

Lucian strode forward, his leather shoes snapping against the cracked concrete, exuding an oppressive aura that was impossible to ignore.

He was just about to ask if Loyce was alright when the words caught in his throat.

Loyce was speaking to the helmet-clad Holt. Her tone was strictly professional and cold, carrying an unquestionable air of command: "Get on my bike. The operating room is still on standby."

Holt's muffled voice came through the helmet, laced with hesitation and exhaustion, "Can't we do it tomorrow?"

Loyce didn't even twitch an eyebrow. She just said, "Do you want those doctors to have waited around for nothing? Or do you think I have endless free time?"

At that moment, Loyce noticed Lucian approaching, a look of mild confusion crossing her eyes.

Lucian lowered his voice. "If something happens, all you have to do is call me, and I'll solve it for you. Why must you always put yourself in danger?"

"Lucian," Loyce's voice remained flat and emotionless, as if merely stating a fact. "I can handle my own affairs. I'm not used to relying on others, and I definitely don't need outsiders to 'solve' things for me."

The only time she had ever shown a hint of vulnerability after being hurt, the only response she got was him telling her to "stay away from him."

She would never speak of her pain in front of him again.

Loyce pulled her arm back, giving the stiff-faced Lucian a curt nod. "I'll be going now."

"Hold on tight," she said over her shoulder to Holt without looking back. The heavy motorcycle's engine let out an ear-splitting roar. Loyce gunned the throttle, and the bike rocketed forward, the front wheel lifting slightly off the ground.

The massive recoil made Holt gasp, instinctively wrapping his arms tight around her waist again.

The kicked-up dust rained down onto Lucian's expensive suit jacket and cold, hard face, making him look decidedly rough around the edges.