breaking point

As Elisabeth continued explaining what she had overheard and seen in the file, she suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

Ethan turned his head toward her, puzzled. "What?" he asked, his gaze meeting hers.

Elisabeth was smiling, her eyes fixed on him.

"Hmm… nothing," she replied with a teasing smile, then turned to stare out the window.

"How much was the meal?" she asked after a brief pause, her tone neutral, though her expression was unreadable.

Ethan hesitated, clearing his throat before responding. "Uh… yeah, about that. It was $5,000," he said awkwardly, avoiding her gaze.

"Okay," Elisabeth replied, her lips curling into a sly grin. "I won't ask how you managed to pay that, especially since you act like a poor guy," she added, laughing softly.

Ethan opened his mouth to defend himself, but his phone buzzed before he could speak. It was a call from Mr. Caldwell.

"Hello, sir," Ethan answered politely.

"Hey, Ethan. I'm home now," Mr. Caldwell said, his voice still slightly weak but much improved. "I need to see you in the morning. There's something I want you to look into."

"Okay, sir. I'll be there early," Ethan replied with respect.

The call ended just as they arrived at the hotel.

"Hey, Ethan," Elisabeth called, her voice soft but playful as they parked.

"Yes?" Ethan responded calmly.

"Thank you for today," she said, pausing as if searching for the right words.

"Oh, it's nothing," Ethan replied, giving her a small smile before glancing away.

"I admit today was… interesting," Elisabeth continued. A faint laugh escaped her lips. "Especially when you kissed me unexpectedly."

Ethan stiffened, a surge of awkwardness coursing through him. "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have—"

Elisabeth interrupted him with a grin. "You don't have to apologize. I liked it," she said, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Ethan blinked, caught off guard by her boldness. He stared at her as if seeing her in a new light.

Trying to shift the conversation, he cleared his throat. "So, about the job you mentioned at the restaurant…"

"Oh, that." Elisabeth leaned back in her seat, her playful expression fading into one of sincerity. "I want you to work as my personal assistant. Would you?"

Ethan hesitated, meeting her gaze. "Um… sure. Why not?" he replied, his tone cautious, though he tried to sound confident.

"Great," Elisabeth said, smiling brightly. "Come to my office tomorrow. I'll send you the address. You won't have to do much—just accompany me wherever I go. I already have assistants for the heavy lifting. You'll just… keep me company," she added with a wink.

"Alright, no problem," Ethan agreed, though inwardly he questioned his decision. This isn't really what I want. But maybe this is a chance to prove I'm a nobody to her… just someone ordinary, he thought to himself.

As they pulled up to the hotel entrance, Elisabeth glanced at him with a playful grin. "Well, this is your stop. I'll be heading home now." She paused before adding, "Or… do you want to kiss me again?"

Ethan froze, his face flushing slightly. "No, boss," he said firmly, reaching for the door handle.

Before he could step out, Elisabeth grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. She planted a brief but deliberate kiss on his lips, catching him off guard.

Ethan quickly pulled back, his expression a mix of surprise and unease as he tried to remain respectful.

She leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "Consider that payback," she said, picking up her mirror and lipstick from her bag to touch up her makeup.

"Um… goodnight, boss," Ethan said hurriedly, stepping out of the car.

"Goodnight, Ethan," Elisabeth replied with a soft smile as her car drove off.

As Ethan entered the hotel building, he could feel the weight of whispers flying around the lobby. People were clearly talking about him.

But Ethan didn't care. Keeping his composure, he walked confidently to his room, ignoring the stares and whispers, his mind racing with the events of the day.

In a quiet town far from the city, Where Sophia had gone she and her friends were by the riverside, laughing and enjoying their time as usual.

Tom was roasting fish over a small fire when he noticed a group of men approaching them. His face tensed immediately. "Hey, guys, come take a look at this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The group gathered around to see.

"Whoa, we're as good as dead men," June muttered, his voice filled with dread.

"Unless those street monkeys came to apologize… maybe Graham finally warned them off," Zara added with a nervous grin, though her voice betrayed her fear.

Jude scanned their surroundings, noting that all possible escape routes were either blocked or led to the water. Swimming deeper wasn't an option either—it could take them to dangerous waters where they might never find their way back.

"What do we do now?" Elena whispered, clutching Sophia's hand tightly.

Sophia gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Just stay calm. Fear won't change anything. No matter what happens, we'll face it together."

June and Jude cautiously stepped forward to meet the approaching men.

"Hey! What do you want here?" June shouted, trying to sound braver than he felt.

The men didn't respond until they were only a few feet away.

"That's her," one of them said, pointing at Sophia. He was one of the four men they had encountered before—the ones they had barely escaped from last time. This time, however, the group had doubled in size and seemed determined to corner them.

The leader, a pot-bellied man with a cigarette in hand, stepped forward, puffing out a cloud of smoke. He directed it straight into June's face, making him cough.

June's fists clenched instinctively, but he forced himself to hold back. He knew that attacking first could mean broken bones, especially since most of these men were twice his size.

After a moment of silence, the pot-bellied man finally spoke. "So, it's you kids." He took another drag from his cigarette before adding with a laugh, "You beat up my men last time."

The other men behind him joined in laughter, their voices loud and taunting.

June's anger simmered just beneath the surface, his hands tightening into fists.

Before he could react, Tom stepped forward, something he rarely did.

"Seriously, aren't you ashamed?" Tom said loudly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

The group fell silent, all eyes on him. Even June and Jude turned to stare, surprised by Tom's unexpected boldness.

"You're grown men—probably old enough to be married or at least planning your lives," Tom continued, adjusting his glasses. "Yet here you are, chasing kids like us. How much were you paid to track us down? Or are you just here to prove how useless you are?"

His words hit like a slap, and even Zara couldn't hold back her laughter. Elena joined in, giggling nervously.

One of the men made a move to grab Tom, but the pot-bellied man raised his hand, stopping him. "Leave the kid," he said, smirking.

He stepped closer to Tom, puffing another cloud of smoke into his face. Tom didn't flinch, standing firm like a statue. His unwavering stance made the men hesitate, wondering if there was more to him than met the eye.

"You've got guts, kid. I like that," the pot-bellied man said mockingly, leaning over to pat Tom on the shoulder. "But you're still just a cocky little brat."

"I'm nothing like you," Tom replied bluntly, his voice calm but piercing. "You're just a piggy, poor-looking monster."

The man's expression darkened instantly. In a flash, he slapped Tom across the face, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Tom's face hit a small rock, but he quickly scrambled to his feet, brushing off June and Jude, who had rushed to help him. "I'm fine," he said, his voice steady despite the redness forming on his cheek.

The pot-bellied man's anger boiled over. He threw his cigarette to the ground and yelled, "Grab the girl! And you"—he pointed at Tom—"I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget!"

Four of the men moved toward Sophia, who stood frozen, her heart racing as panic set in.

But just as they were about to grab her, a voice rang out from a distance.

"Hey! Stop right there!"

The men froze, turning to see who had spoken.

In the distance, several motorcycles roared toward them, their headlights cutting through the dark like piercing eyes. The thunder of engines shook the ground, and the riders, clad in leather with ominous insignias, exuded an air of raw menace. Chains and wrenches gleamed in their hands, catching the faint light.

The pot-bellied man stepped back, his smugness vanishing as the bikers closed in, their presence silencing the river's calm and replacing it with a suffocating tension.

The pot-bellied man's smug expression faltered, his face twisting into one of fear. Whatever confidence he had moments ago seemed to drain from him as the bikers came closer.