Page 35 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

“But Qing...”

“I love you, Kai,” she spoke over me, “you’re the only one in this family who cares about me—the only one I care about. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“No, Qing, I⁠—”

“You can’t help me if you’re locked up too,” she insisted, her tone sharper now.

“Come on.” Trevon added, he tugged me toward the staircase, pulling me away from Jenny.

“Go!” Jenny screamed, desperation cracking her voice. “I’m begging you!”

Trevon half-dragged my unwilling body down the stairs. My thoughts were a blur, torn between leaving and staying.

As we reached for the massive wooden door—the main entrance and our only exit—a sharp, angry shout pierced the air behind us.

I turned and saw a familiar figure—Chen’s head of security. The man was a brute, built like a tank, and had been with Chen longer than anyone else. Unlike the revolving door of bodyguards who never lasted more than two years, he had somehow survived Chen’s paranoia and cruelty.

The man spat out a vicious threat in Shanghai dialect—if we took another step, he’d kill the woman in white.

Before I could react, Trevon raised his gun and fired.

The shot echoed through the marble-floored hallway. The security guard dropped like a stone, his heavy body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

“What the fuck Trev?” I couldn’t believe it—Trevon, the calm, level-headed guy I had known forever had just shot someone without hesitation.

“Relax, it’s just an air gun,” Trevon said casually.

“But… you just killed him.” My voice shaky, as confused as my mind.

We rushed to the fallen fat man. There was no blood, no bullet wound—nothing. Trevon bent down to help the woman to her feet while I checked for a pulse, pressing my fingers against the thick skin of his neck.

Living and breathing.

He had fainted—somehow. Good luck to Chen if he decided to keep him around.

A distant, eerie howling broke through the tense silence. I swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at me. It was too much for Jenny to face all this alone.

As if Trevon had read my mine—he shook his head sharply, silently telling me to keep moving.

As we rose to leave, the woman we helped earlier grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. Without a word, she led us through the mansion’s dim corridors to a discreet back door.

Outside, she pressed a Buick key into my palm and pointed at a blue car parked among a row of beaten-up vehicles.

“Take the unkempt path behind the house—follow it until you’re clear.” She whispered in rapid Mandarin.

Before I could thank her, she shoved us out the door and locked it behind us.

We followed her instructions, the Buick’s engine rumbling as we crept along the overgrown path. At first, it felt like we were going in circles—twisting and turning deeper into the estate’s sprawling grounds. But after a few agonizing minutes, we reached a narrow wooden gate, just wide enough for the car to squeeze through.

On the other side was a hidden road, winding along the backside of the mountain. A perfect escape route.

In the distance, the shrill wail of police sirens pierced the night.

My chest tightened as I thought of Jenny. At least she’s safe—for now.

“Whose car is this?” Trevon finally asked, though we both knew I didn’t have an answer.

“Don’t know. But we should ditch this car as soon as we get the chance.”