Chapter 497

Olivia wasn't the type to swoon over handsome faces, no matter how striking.

The man's grip on her wrist was painfully tight. She tried to shove him away. "Who the hell are you? Let go of me!"

Preston Worthington Sr.'s gaze flickered between the vandalized Bugatti and Olivia. His voice was glacial. "You realize you just committed a felony? Destruction of property carries legal consequences."

Olivia scoffed. "Got proof? Didn't think so. Now unhand me before I scream harassment."

She'd been careful—no witnesses, no cameras. Luck had been on her side.

Or so she thought.

Preston smirked, tapping his luxury wristwatch. A holographic video projected, capturing every second of her crime.

Damn.

Of course a rich bastard would own a watch that doubled as a spy gadget.

Her pulse spiked, but she kept her voice steady. "So what? The owner of that car ruined my life. This was payback. Arrest me if you want. See who the cops side with."

Preston studied her—young, makeup-free, barely legal. Not his brother Preston Jr.'s usual type.

Then his eyes dropped lower.

Ah. Not so innocent after all.

"Eyes up here, creep!" Olivia snapped, kneeing him hard.

Preston barely flinched. "First woman to ever try that," he mused darkly. "Know what happened to the last person who laid hands on me?"

"Let me guess—he neutered you?" She smirked at his crotch.

To her shock, Preston threw his head back and laughed. The sound was unfairly attractive.

Olivia's traitorous heart stuttered.

She forced herself to glare. "Look, I don't care if you're the owner's twin. I wrecked the car. Name your price."

Preston's amusement vanished. "That Bugatti cost thirty million. You owe three."

Three million?

Olivia's stomach dropped. Her mother had drained her accounts. She was broke.

"Help! He's attacking me!" She screamed suddenly, spotting pedestrians.

No one intervened.

One brave cyclist hesitated, then pedaled away at Preston's murderous glare.

Modern society was useless.

As Preston dragged her toward Mallory Tower, Olivia's panic surged. If Preston Jr. was a monster, his brother would be worse.

The takeout bag slipped from her fingers, forgotten.

Meanwhile, Evelyn paced the hospital room.

"Olivia's never this late. She didn't do anything stupid, right?"

Grandfather Reginald patted her hand. "Gwendolyn will find her."

As if summoned, Gwendolyn rushed in, empty-handed. "I searched everywhere. No sign of her."

Evelyn's phone rang. Unknown caller.

"Evelyn Sinclair?" A male voice drawled. "Preston Worthington Sr. We need to talk about your friend Olivia."

Evelyn's blood ran cold.

How did Olivia cross paths with the devil himself?