She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 939

The moment Giselle's Mercedes tore onto the side road, her tires shrieked against the cracked asphalt, the chassis missing the concrete barrier by mere inches.

There were no streetlights here. No security cameras. Not a single soul in sight.

It was exactly the kind of desolate hunting ground men like Chadwick Dawson preferred. Assuming his men had cornered her into a dead end, a victorious smirk had likely already plastered itself across his face.

In her rearview mirror, the black Buick plunged onto the road without hesitation, accelerating hard to close the distance.

A second later, the other two sedans swung into the alley, boxing her in from behind.

Giselle floored the accelerator, acting as if she were desperately trying to blast her way out the other end. Right on cue, a fourth car was forced into the open.

A dark blue Ford SUV was parked horizontally across the narrow road, completely barricading the exit.

Four men stood in front of the headlights, dressed head-to-toe in black. They held steel pipes that gleamed dully in the harsh glare of the high beams.

Giselle slammed on the brakes.

Behind her, the pursuing cars skidded to a halt, fanning out to block any chance of reversing.

Three cars behind her. One SUV in front. Seven hired thugs. A complete dead end.

Giselle cut the engine, pulled the keys from the ignition, and leaned back in her leather seat. Now, all she had to do was wait.

The passenger door of the Ford swung open, and Chadwick Dawson hoisted himself out.

Wearing a grotesque expression of triumph, he marched straight to Giselle's driver's side window and rapped his knuckles hard against the glass.

Giselle rolled the window down just two inches—just enough to let his voice in.

"Ms. Turner," Chadwick sneered, all pretense of civility gone. His voice dripped with raw, venomous malice. "I told you. If you didn't play ball, the consequences would be severe."

Giselle turned her head to look at him. Her face was infuriatingly calm. Even now, trapped in a dark alley surrounded by armed men, there wasn't a trace of fear in her eyes. "Mr. Dawson, I told you. Hank Lonsdale is Gigi's father."

"And I told you, I don't buy your bullshit!" Chadwick barked a harsh laugh, the flesh on his face twitching grotesquely in the harsh white headlights. "Hank Lonsdale? You really think dropping his name is going to save you? Everyone in Metropia knows who Hank Lonsdale is. If he had a kid, the whole city would know about it. You think I've survived twenty years in this business by getting spooked by ghost stories?"

He straightened up and casually flicked his wrist at the men behind him.

The four thugs gripping the steel pipes stepped forward, ready to smash the glass and drag her out into the street.

"This is your absolute last chance," Chadwick growled, leaning in closer. "Sign the distribution rights over to me right now. Your little blackmail folder means nothing—I have the connections to bury it. But if you keep fighting me, your body is going straight into the harbor tonight. And your precious little girl will be joining you very soon."

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