Back then, the kidnappers’ motives had been obvious––they had abducted Elise for money.
Everything had revolved around extorting Dylan.
Only after repeated failed attempts to reach him had their frustration spiraled into rage, and that rage had ultimately been directed at her.
This situation was different.
The people who kidnapped Quinn clearly had not been motivated by money. Their actions felt less like a calculated crime and more like a prolonged act of vengeance.
As if their sole purpose had been to inflict suffering.
"To be honest," Zoey continued, gripping the steering wheel as rain streaked across the windshield, "if we’re only talking about Quinn getting kidnapped, we actually got lucky this time."
Elise still had no idea what to say.
Zoey kept talking.
"If she hadn’t been so eager to flaunt her relationship with Dylan, constantly showing off and telling the world she was his most cherished woman, people might still believe you and Dylan were happily married."
She shook her head.
"In that case, the kidnappers might have targeted you instead."
Her voice continued drifting through the car, yet Elise barely heard it. Her attention had already wandered elsewhere.
She stared at the windshield wipers sweeping frantically through the rain.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Suddenly, one memory surfaced––the funeral home. That damned night.
The faint metallic scent lingering on Dylan’s body.
Goddamn blood...
At the time, she had noticed it but dismissed it.
Now, with everything Zoey had just told her, the memory returned with unsettling clarity.
Quinn had been kidnapped. Dylan had rushed to rescue her. When he returned, he had smelled of blood. His condition had been visibly abnormal.
A weird thought slowly formed inside her mind.
Had Dylan been injured while saving Quinn?
Elise pressed her lips together.
Then, another memory surfaced... The charity gala fire.
The moment chaos erupted, Dylan’s first instinct had been to shield Quinn with his own body.
He protected her without hesitation. Without even caring for himself or anyone else.
A sharp chill ran down Elise’s spine.
What if the kidnapper had been there that night?
They could have been hidden among the crowd, watching and waiting.
The realization exploded inside her mind.
Her breathing abruptly stalled. The hands resting on her knees tightened instinctively into fists.
No. That couldn’t be possible.
Could it?
The car continued descending the mountain road toward the city center.
After several minutes, Zoey glanced sideways and immediately noticed the change in Elise’s expression.
"What happened?"
Elise turned toward her.
"Which hospital is Quinn in right now?"
"Sacred Heart Private Hospital." Zoey frowned, already suspecting where this was heading. "Why?"
"I need to see her." The determination in Elise’s voice left no room for discussion. "Right now."
***
An hour later, they arrived at Huaren Private Hospital.
With a little effort, Zoey managed to find out which room Quinn occupied.
The real problem was security. Several bodyguards arranged by Dylan were stationed outside the room.
There was no triumphant joy, no relief... Only a cold certainty.
Quinn had brought much of this suffering upon herself.
Beside her, Zoey surveyed the injuries and let out a low whistle.
"Well." She folded her arms over her chest. "Professional assessment complete."
Her eyes swept across the battered woman in a dramatic assessment.
"This is pure revenge-style violence."
Then, with remarkable sincerity, she added, "I have to admit, seeing this has done wonders for my emotional well-being. I’d say fuck expensive therapy––just hire someone to beat the living shit out of your enemies instead."
Quinn finally recognized them, and a hint of terror flashed through her eyes as she whispered.
"Elise..." Her voice emerged weak and breathless. "You... how did you get in here...?"
The effort of speaking caused her chest to rise sharply.
Pain immediately twisted across her face. Several broken ribs protested the movement.
"What do you want?"
Her neck was immobilized, preventing her from turning her head. Only her eyes darted frantically around the room as she searched for help.
"Stop looking."
Zoey stepped forward and planted her hands on her hips.
"The caregiver is unconscious."
She pointed toward the door.
"The bodyguards think we’re changing your dressings."
A dangerous smile curved her lips.
"So if I were you, I’d behave."
Her gaze swept over Quinn’s battered body.
"Because I really wouldn’t mind adding a few fresh injuries to the collection."

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