The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 256

256 Chapter 256 Marquis Gets To

Walk Free

Blanche’s POV

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My answer came out smooth, but Vincent still looked uneasy. “We’ve got everything we need in the kitchen here. I can whip something up for her. Just stay with her. It’s getting late, and I really hate the thought of you heading out right now.”

I spun around, determined. “She specifically asked for food from that place on the south side.”

That shut Vincent up for a beat.

Then he jumped back in. “Fine, then I’m coming with you.”

I met his gaze. “Amara’s still here. I need you watching her. What if Marquis shows up again?”

Vincent looked like he wanted to point out that Kingsley was around, but I wasn’t sticking around to debate. I headed straight for the elevator.

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Vincent watched Blanche disappear into the elevator, that familiar knot of worry twisting tighter in his gut.

Kingsley picked up on something being off with Blanche and turned to Vincent. “Vincent, go after her. I can handle things here.”

That was all Vincent needed to hear. He bolted after

her.

By the time he made it to the building’s entrance, Vincent caught sight of Blanche climbing into a cab.

Before he could react, the taxi pulled away.

But instead of heading south like she’d said, the car went straight north.

Vincent’s doubts crystallized–she was definitely lying.

He flagged down another taxi without hesitation. “Follow that car.”

After a while, the cab stopped at an apartment complex entrance.

Blanche stepped out and mixed in with the people

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heading inside.

Just as she reached the gate, Vincent caught up and yanked her back.

Vincent’s eyes blazed as he snapped, “What the hell are you doing?”

I blinked, caught off guard by Vincent’s sudden appearance, then put on my most innocent

expression. “I swear, Vincent, I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Vincent’s stare could have cut glass. “Didn’t you say you were going south for pork stew? This is the north side.”

I glanced around and shrugged it off. “Must’ve gotten turned around.”

Vincent wasn’t having it–accident or not, he didn’t care. He grabbed my arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I jerked free. “I’m not going anywhere. You want to leave? Go ahead.”

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I watched Vincent’s face change as realization hit him -I’d come here deliberately. This wasn’t some

innocent mix–up.

He released my arm and demanded, “What exactly are you planning?”

My patience snapped. “Can’t you just mind your own business for once?”

Vincent stood there stunned for a second, then

grabbed my hand again. “No. You’re coming back with

me.”

I fought against his grip, and during our struggle, the folding knife I’d hidden in my sleeve clattered to the ground.

Vincent glanced down. I lunged for it, but he was faster, stepping on the blade.

His brows drew together, voice sharp. “Why do you have a knife?”

I couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore. My whole body went rigid as I exploded, “Marquis is a sick bastard. He deserves to die. I want to cut off his balls and throw

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them to the dogs.”

Vincent’s grip on my hand tightened. “And then what? What happens to you after?”

I’d already made peace with it. “I’d turn myself in.”

Vincent’s words came out clipped and raw. “What about me? What am I supposed to do then?”

I just shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “I don’t know.”

I gripped that knife tight, and yeah, I’d seriously considered castrating Marquis.

But no matter how much I psyched myself up, I knew deep down I couldn’t actually do it.

Still, I came anyway–even if all I managed was screaming at Marquis or slapping him, at least I’d be releasing some of this rage.

Everything I wanted to do was for Amara–trying to defend her, even in some small way.

When Vincent saw me sobbing like my world was ending, his expression crumbled. He pulled me tight

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against his chest, gently pressing my head there, and whispered, “Hey, trust me. I promise I’ll make him pay for what he did.”

My whole body trembled with fury. “But even if Marquis dies, it won’t give Amara back what she lost.”

Vincent stroked my hair, his voice low and steady. “I know. But just trust me, okay?”

I listened to Vincent’s words and slowly felt my emotions settling.

Finally, I whispered, barely audible, “Okay.”

After making sure I was stable, Vincent walked me back to Amara’s apartment.

As we approached the door, we could hear Amara’s

sobs from inside.

Kingsley was there, holding Amara close, trying to soothe her. “It’s over now. Let’s not torture ourselves,

okay?”

But Amara wasn’t hearing any of it. She kept pushing at him, her voice breaking: “Go away. Just go away.”

Kingsley just held her tighter. “I’m not leaving.”

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Amara’s face was streaked with tears, her voice

shaking as she begged, “Please, just let me be alone for a while, okay?”

I stood in the doorway, pulling myself together before stepping inside.

On the way back, I’d even detoured to the south side to grab Amara’s favorite pork stew.

Once inside, I held up the container and waved it at Amara. “Hey, Amara, look what I brought–your favorite pork stew. Want to try some?”

But when Amara saw me, her emotions didn’t settle. Instead, she completely lost it, screaming, “Get out! All of you, just get out!”

I froze, taken aback. “Even me?”

Amara just screamed louder, “Get out! All of you, get out, get out!”

I was out of options. I turned to Kingsley and said, “Kingsley, let’s give Amara some space.”

So we all stepped out together.

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In the living room, I paced restlessly, anxiety consuming me.

No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop worrying about

Amara.

So I cautiously approached the bedroom door and pushed it open.

The moment it swung open, I screamed in terror, “Amara, what are you doing?!”

I charged straight into the bedroom.

Amara was gripping a knife, slashing hard at her own

arm.

Blood immediately began streaming down her skin in thick, red rivulets.

My heart nearly stopped. Without hesitation, I rushed over and grabbed the blade with my bare hand.

Terrified that Amara might pull the knife back, I held on as tight as I could, ignoring the blade cutting into my palm. Blood flowed freely between my fingers, spattering everywhere.

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Amara stared at me in horror, panic flooding her face. “Blanche, let go!” she cried, voice shaking.

I shouted, desperate and determined, “I’m not letting go!”

Amara’s face twisted with grief, tears pouring down. “Blanche, please, just let me end it. Why am I even still alive?”

My eyes burned with tears, words choked with

emotion. “You still have me! If something happened to you, what about me? What would I do without you?”

Vincent and Kingsley burst into the room, both their faces filled with worry.

Seeing Amara waver at my words, Kingsley quickly added, “I’m here too.”

Vincent just let out a cold snort.

Right now, all he cared about was me being hurt.

His voice turned icy as he looked at Amara. “You want to die? Fine, go ahead. But think–once you’re gone, Marquis gets to walk free. Nobody’s going to stand up for you. The rest of us? Except for Blanche, none of us

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will lose sleep over it. I sure won’t shed a single tear.”

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