The Real Heiress Is Coming Back (Hannah Carter) novel Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Everyone turned around to see a man standing in the middle of the alley, dressed in a sharp white suit.

Barnaby was strikingly handsome, his expression cold and serious. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and his shoe tip rested on a stone the size of a chicken egg.

When Hannah saw him, a ripple of emotion stirred inside her.

It was Barnaby.

He removed his glasses, and an icy chill radiated from him.

The punks instinctively hesitated, but then reminded themselves he was alone and dressed in a suit and dress. shoes, probably all talk.

“Who the hell are you? Mind your own business,” snapped one of the scrawny youths.

“If you don’t want to die, then get lost,” Barnaby replied coldly.

“Damn it, this guy’s crazy. Let’s get him. I’m gonna chop off his hand and feed it to him,” Evan hissed through the pain, spitting on the ground.

His men bared their weapons with murderous intent. Around here, no one had ever taken down their boss.

Hannah quietly slid her hand away from the needle hidden under her skirt and stepped back without drawing attention.

She trusted that Barnaby, a veteran, wouldn’t be defeated by a handful of punks.

Barnaby caught her subtle movement and smirked.

Hannah stayed calm, clearly trusting him.

In the next moment, Barnaby lifted his long leg and kicked several stones on the ground with precise force.

Each stone struck the knees of the advancing thugs. They screamed in agony and collapsed, clutching their legs and howling like wounded animals.

“Shit.” Evan watched Barnaby stand there, hands still in his pockets, effortlessly taking down everyone.

The display of power infuriated him beyond measure.

“All amateurs,” he spat, pulling a long machete from his waistband and charging at Barnaby with fierce aggression.

Barnaby turned his head to dodge gracefully and strode toward Hannah.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked.

Hannah glanced at Evan, who was trailing behind, wildly swinging the machete in frustration, but Barnaby dodged every blow as if his back had eyes.

“Why would I call you?” she replied.

“Didn’t I say to call me if anything happened?” Barnaby stopped in front of her, his charming voice tinged with a hint of hurt, not at all like the domineering man moments ago.

Hannah looked back at Evan, who was now red in the face with rage.

Earlier, Evan had swung the machete skillfully, but now, completely ignored by Barnaby, he hacked wildly.

“Have you missed me?” Barnaby asked again when she remained silent.

“Weren’t you the one who told me not to miss you?” Hannah answered.

“That was just politeness. You really haven’t missed me?” Barnaby said. “I’m hurt, saddened. I’m your patient, and yet you don’t even care if I’m fine.”

‘Wait? Aren’t you still alive and kicking? What’s with that whiny tone? Is this really the same Barnaby who just radiated that fierce coldness?’ Hannah thought.

“Damn it, enough already,” Evan shouted, hacking tens of wild swings, panting heavily.

But Barnaby stood there, unscathed, chatting with Hannah calmly, his hands still buried in his pockets.

“Too much. This is way too much,’ Evan thought bitterly.

Furious and powerless against Barnaby, Evan shifted his attention to the defenseless girl, Hannah.

His machete gleamed as it suddenly swung down toward her.

Just as the blade came down, a slender, bone-defined hand shot out and grabbed Evan’s wrist, releasing a chilling aura.

Crack. Bones snapped.

Clang. The machete dropped to the ground.

Evan’s scream tore through the air, startling nearby birds into chaotic flight.

Barnaby wiped his right hand with a damp tissue, his eyes cold and sharp as they stared down at Evan, curled up on the ground like he was looking at trash.

“Next time something like this happens, call me,” he said firmly, then turned to Hannah.

His tone brooked no argument, still carrying a trace of lingering anger.

Hannah’s lashes fluttered. Barnaby’s mood flipped fast.

At a time like this, she didn’t dare oppose him and gave a small nod. “Okay.”

The hostility around Barnaby faded considerably.

“Barnaby.” Just then, Ronin and Percival arrived. Seeing the thugs lying on the ground and the low-pressure aura still radiating from Barnaby, they quickly guessed what had happened.

“The car’s outside the alley. It can’t get through,” Percival said.

Barnaby nodded and draped an arm over Hannah’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

As Barnaby turned, he shot Ronin a meaningful look.

Ronin immediately understood and prepared to handle it.

On the way back, Percival sensed a subtle tension lingering in the car.

When they reached Skycrest House, he said to Hannah, “Mr. Carter, I’ll leave Barnaby in your care.”

After saying that, he quickly took his leave.

Ronin had some reservations about trusting Hannah’s medical skills completely, but he trusted her enough; after all, some illnesses required specialists.

Hannah said nothing.

That evening, Hannah stood outside the master bedroom. It was Barnaby’s room. To thank him for his help earlier that afternoon, she had promised to give him a check-up after dinner.

Just as she was about to knock, she noticed the door was ajar.

“Come in.” Barnaby’s charming voice called from inside.

When she pushed the door open, Hannah’s eyes immediately caught Barnaby’s bare back.

He stood tall and proud, broad-shouldered with a narrow waist, muscles beautifully defined like a model stepped straight out of a magazine.

The only flaw was the several fierce-looking scars marring that perfect back.

Hannah froze for a moment, cheeks flushing as she averted her gaze, feeling embarrassed.

She immediately stepped back to close the door, but suddenly a large, bone-defined hand caught the door.

“Where are you going?” Barnaby’s warm, alluring voice whispered near her ear.

In front of her was Barnaby’s firm abs and defined V-lines, and Hannah’s gaze fluttered uncertainly, her ears burning.

This wasn’t her first time seeing a naked person; in her medical eyes, there was no difference between men and women, but somehow, facing Barnaby still left her a little flustered.

“Aren’t you going to examine me?” Barnaby asked, noticing her reddening ears, which only made her slender neck look more delicate. His throat suddenly felt dry.

“I will, but you don’t have to take off your clothes,” Hannah said calmly, though inside she was struggling to stay composed.

Raising her eyes, she spotted a fresh scar on Barnaby’s left chest.

Though healed, it was clearly a gunshot wound.

The location looked vaguely familiar.

“That guy on the back mountain that day was you?” Hannah asked instinctively.

Barnaby’s lips curled slightly as if pleased she remembered. “A lifesaver.”

He said this with a seductive glance, then slowly took her hand and placed it over his left chest.

Hannah froze for a moment.

His charming voice held a hint of sensuality as he continued, “I’m not doing well with the Thole family. The most valuable thing I have is this body. How about I marry you in return?”

The touch of his fingertips made Hannah’s thick lashes flutter, her heart race, cheeks flush.

She suspected Barnaby was teasing her.

She wrenched her hand free and instead placed it on his wrist.

After a moment, she said, “You’re hopeless. Better just send you to the crematorium.”

Barnaby mentally sighed, ‘I think I might still have a chance for rescue.’

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