She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 878

"Ma'am, please stay where you are."

"Wait, you need to listen to me—"

Another officer had already drawn his weapon and was charging up the stairs.

Giselle tried to push past, but the cop held her back. She could only watch helplessly as they stormed the building.

A cacophony of shouting echoed from the second floor.

A few minutes later, Hank was escorted out, flanked by two officers. His hands were cuffed behind his back, but his face was an absolute mask of indifference. He looked almost bored.

Alfie was dragged out by two other cops, his body sagging like a sack of wet cement. Both his arms hung at grotesque, unnatural angles, and a mixture of blood and saliva dripped steadily from his chin onto the pavement.

Alfie's mother followed closely behind, wailing dramatically to the heavens. "My baby! Look what he did to my innocent boy! Lock that animal up!"

Seeing the extent of Alfie's injuries, Giselle didn't look surprised or upset. In fact, her shoulders dropped in visible relief.

She had been genuinely terrified Hank was going to kill him.

The weeping mother caught the subtle shift in Giselle's expression. She already despised Giselle, viewing her as damaged goods and a burden with a kid, furious that her precious son was so obsessed with her. Now that it had blown up into this mess, her hatred boiled over.

Marching over, she pointed a trembling, accusatory finger directly at Giselle's face. "This is all your fault! You little tramp! My son has a great job and a bright future! Women line up for him! But he just had to feel sorry for you! You strung him along, played the victim, and now your psycho ex-husband shows up and does this!"

The old woman spun around, pointing at Hank. "You led them both on! My boy was just trying to look after you, and you sicced this thug on him! I'm suing you! I'm going to sue both of you until you don't have a dime to your name!"

As the surrounding crowd began whispering and pointing, Giselle pressed her lips into a tight line. Arguing with an hysterical old woman in front of an audience would only make things worse.

Hank stopped walking.

The two officers tried to shove him forward, but it was like trying to move a mountain. He planted his feet, turned his head, and locked his crimson eyes on the old woman.

"What did you just call her?"

His voice wasn't loud. It was remarkably calm. But the sheer, lethal coldness dripping from every syllable made the temperature in the courtyard plummet.

The old woman instinctively stumbled back under the weight of that glare. But realizing she had cops and an entire crowd behind her, she puffed out her chest.

"I called her a tramp!" her voice shrieked even higher. "Dragging that brat around, trying to seduce my son! He was blind to even look at—"

"Say it again."

Hank cut her off.

His tone hadn't shifted an inch, but he took one slow, deliberate step forward. The two cops holding him stumbled, and one of them nervously reached for his baton.

The old woman's throat clicked shut. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Because Hank was smiling.

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