Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 203

Chapter 203: Unmasking Bellero Boren

Mr. Dromote’s face twisted into a scowl as he glared at the mechanic. He pointed a at the man’s chest, his voice rough and laced with irritation. "Enock! Shut your mouth and don’t interfere in matters you don’t know a single thing about! Your family wasn’t harmed years ago! You didn’t lose a wife or a child to this monster! Mind your own business, go back to your workshop, and leave us alone!"

Enock didn’t step back. He dragged his bad leg forward, his face set in stone as he looked into Dromote’s hostile eyes. "I know very well what I am saying, Dromote!" Enock shouted, his voice echoing across the silent lane. "I know every single detail! Nobody here should blame this young man! Dorrent Grefo was entirely innocent of what happened back then!"

A wave of angry murmurs immediately rippled through the gathered crowd. Men brandishing iron bars stepped closer, shaking their heads in utter disbelief.

"Keep quiet, Enock!" a market vendor yelled from the front line. "Are you out of your mind?! Everyone in 3rd Street saw his face! We saw those eyes covered in blood! There is no way in hell it wasn’t him! Stop defending a murderer and get out of the way!"

Before Enock could answer, a woman came running frantically down the narrow alleyway. Her hair was messy, her clothes worn, and tears poured down her cheeks as she shoved her way through the standing crowd. It was Joyline. She threw her arms around Enock’s shoulders, her voice breaking into a hysterical, sobbing scream that drew every eye.

"Enock! What are you doing here?!" Joyline wept, her hands clutching her husband’s grease-stained jumpsuit. "Why are you talking to these people?! That girl—that cursed girl Jannah should not be left alone! She killed our son! Beron is dead, Enock! Our boy died in the hospital ward this morning! He never woke up from his coma!"

The crowd gasped in collective shock. Whispers exploded like wildfire through the alley.

"Beron is dead?"

"The young Alpha who crashed his motorcycle?"

"Lord have mercy..."

Joyline’s face twisted into venom as she whipped her head around, her red, swollen eyes locking onto Jannah, who was still pinned against Dorrent’s side. Joyline raised a shaking hand, pointing her finger at Jannah’s pale face.

"Look at her!" Joyline shrieked, her voice echoing off the brick walls. "She did it! She cast her wicked spell on my Beron just like she did to all those other young Alphas! She bewitched him with her face until he crashed his bike into a concrete wall! She is a murderer! A witch! Get her out of our neighborhood! What a disgusting couple—a cursed witch and a cold-blooded killer standing together!"

The crowd quickly joined in, pointing fingers, hurling curses, and shouting at Jannah to leave forever.

"Get out of 3rd Street, you cursed rat!"

"You’ve brought enough danger to our boys!"

"Leave and never come back!"

Jannah stood completely frozen, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs as the heavy wave of public hatred crashed over her. She gripped the fabric of Dorrent’s shirt, her knuckles turning white as fresh tears of humiliation and panic welled up in her eyes. Dorrent’s jaw locked tight, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, murderous fire as he pulled her closer against his chest, his S-tier aura flaring to crush anyone who dared step closer to her.

"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU, SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!" Enock roared at the top of his lungs, his voice booming over the shouting mob with such immense desperation that the crowd involuntarily went quiet.

Enock turned around, his hands grabbing his weeping wife by her shoulders. He shook her gently, his eyes wide and pleading. "Joyline, stop it! Stop yelling and stop calling this girl names! Listen to me, woman—Jannah is completely innocent! She had nothing to do with Beron’s crash! She didn’t kill our son!"

Joyline stared at her husband in jaw shock, tears freezing on her cheeks. "What are you saying, Enock?! Have you lost your sanity too?!"

The mob began to rumble again, their patience wearing thin. "Enock, if you’re not going to make sense, you better take your crying wife and leave!" Mr. Dromote shouted, raising his iron pipe. "We don’t have time for your crazy ramblings!"

Enock slowly let go of his wife. He turned around, his eyes sweeping across the sea of hostile faces until his gaze landed dead onto the immaculate, white-haired figure standing on the elevated warehouse steps.

Enock lifted his arm, pointing at the old Mafia lord.

"If you want to know who the real culprit is," Enock shouted, his voice ringing out with terrifying clarity, "look right there! The man responsible for all the blood in these bogs... is Bellero Boren!"

An absolute silence fell over the entire street.

The residents stared at Enock, then turned their heads to look at the elegant, high-society old man standing beside Damian. Disbelief washed over the crowd.

"What?"

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