Possessed No More: The True Star Returns to Claim Her Throne-Chapter 103: Injured

[Oh, heavens, please let Ria always team up with our Vick! I’d trade thirty years of my scumbag husband’s life for it!]

[To the sister up there, if it’s really that bad, just leave him!]

[No way! Why should I? If I leave, his money will just go to some other woman and her kid, and they might even abuse my child. I’ll just stick it out, live off his money, and curse him to an early grave. When he dies, everything he owns will belong to my son!]

It was a difficult situation to judge. You couldn’t say her reasoning was entirely baseless. A parents’ divorce definitely has an impact on their children. Sometimes, it isn’t that the mother doesn’t want custody, but that she might not be able to get it. First and foremost, custody is usually awarded to the party with the more stable financial foundation.

But with a stepmother often comes an indifferent father, and the child is the one who suffers.

So, in some cases, divorce isn’t the optimal solution. Only those involved know what course of action is truly in their own best interest.

[All I can say is, I hope she gets her wish. That might sound a little malicious, but I just can’t stand scumbags.]

[Same here. All scumbags must die!]

[This is an adventure livestream, not a relationship advice livestream, hellooo.]

After eating and drinking their fill, the two set up their tents on a flat piece of ground not far from the riverbank. They had been walking for half a day in the sweltering heat, and Riley Perry felt sticky with sweat. She couldn’t stand it. After getting into her tent, she secretly used a Cleaning Technique on herself. Once she felt clean and refreshed, she finally drifted off to sleep.

...

The moment the livestream went dark, Cole Sinclair shut off the tablet in front of him.

Spencer Sinclair, who was waiting to the side, saw the Young Master putting away the tablet and immediately called the driver downstairs to get ready. "Young Master, will you be returning to the apartment or the villa tonight?"

"Back to the villa." That woman wasn’t there, so it didn’t matter to him where he went.

The Rolls-Royce glided smoothly out of the underground parking garage. Cole Sinclair closed his eyes and leaned back in the rear seat to rest.

About half an hour later, the car suddenly accelerated. Cole Sinclair, who had had his eyes closed, snapped them open. "What’s wrong?"

"There was road construction when we passed Silverbell Road, so we switched to Bloomwind Road. But they’ve set up barricades here, too. Something’s not right, so I told Lane to speed up."

A savage glint flashed in Cole Sinclair’s eyes. ’They really don’t know when to quit. They actually followed me back to the country. Well, since they’re here, they’re never going back!’

Spencer Sinclair glanced in the rearview mirror. A black sedan had caught up to them, and they were approaching an intersection up ahead.

On the sidewalk, a tricycle lay overturned next to a scraped-up sedan. A crowd had gathered around the two vehicles, forcing the Rolls-Royce to a stop.

"Call the police!"

Spencer Sinclair immediately dialed the police. There could be assassins lurking among the onlookers. The entire accident was likely staged by their pursuers.

The black sedan behind them honked its horn incessantly, but the three men in the Rolls-Royce remained completely unmoved. Spencer Sinclair was already directing his men to sweep the surrounding buildings.

"There’s movement on the building at three o’clock. Check it out," Cole Sinclair said, his voice cold. "And in the crowd, the man in the white shirt and white sneakers and the one in the black pullover—they’re both problems."

His voice carried over the phone, and a moment later, several men emerged from a side street and closed in on the crowd on the sidewalk.

"You can take care of the people in the car behind us now." Their honking was getting on his nerves.

Just a few seconds later, a man sauntered up to the right side of the black car. As he pulled his hand from his pocket, there was a flash of white light, and the next moment, the car’s window shattered. A gloved hand reached inside and opened the door. The man slipped in quickly. The car shook violently twice, then went still.

Spencer Sinclair couldn’t help but comment, "These guys seem kind of pathetic."

Cole Sinclair frowned as well. ’This isn’t right.’

"Stay sharp. They’ve waited this long; they wouldn’t just send these small-timers."

The police arrived quickly. The crowd was dispersed, the wrecked cars were photographed and towed, and the blocked road was cleared. The Rolls-Royce continued on its way.

Cole Sinclair’s fingers drummed lightly against the window. ’I only decided to go back to the villa today on a whim. How could it be such a coincidence that they set up an ambush on this very road?’

A voice came through Spencer Sinclair’s earpiece. "Boss, we’ve caught a sniper. They were using a heavy sniper rifle and armor-piercing rounds."

Spencer Sinclair nearly crushed his phone, finally letting out a curse. "Fuck!" He then repeated his subordinate’s report.

Cole Sinclair remained silent. Everything about the situation tonight felt off.

’It took nearly four minutes to catch the sniper after Spencer gave the order,’ Cole thought. ’Not that they could have killed me in that time—the car was parked at an awkward angle, so they couldn’t guarantee a fatal shot. But four minutes was more than enough time for them to escape.’

’And yet, they were caught.’

Twenty minutes later, the Rolls-Royce arrived back at the villa.

The other cars in the security detail pulled into the villa as well. Spencer Sinclair opened the door for Cole. As a black leather shoe touched the ground and Cole began to step out, he hadn’t even fully straightened his tall frame when a powerful sixth sense detected a hint of killing intent. He dodged backward instantly, just as the muffled POP of a silenced gunshot sounded. The entire villa erupted into chaos!

Cole Sinclair let out a muffled grunt and lunged forward, taking cover behind the car. Spencer Sinclair fired three quick shots in the direction of the bullet’s origin before ducking down beside him. "Young Master, are you alright?"

Clutching his injured arm, Cole Sinclair said through the pain, "There’s a mole on the security team tonight."

A few more shots rang out—BANG! BANG!—followed by a grunt and the thud of a body hitting the ground. About a minute later, everything went silent. "Fourth Brother, we got him."

Spencer Sinclair ignored everything else, grabbing his phone to call Morgan Fisher.

Morgan Fisher had just finished surgery at the hospital and was about to head home when Spencer Sinclair’s call made his heart drop. "Spencer, what’s wrong?"

"Young Master Fisher, our Young Master’s left arm is injured. I’m sending someone to pick you up."

"Don’t bother. That’ll just waste time. I’ll drive over myself. You’re at the villa, right?"

"Yes."

The call ended quickly. Spencer Sinclair helped Cole up and headed into the villa, with security team members escorting them. Before going inside, Spencer ordered his subordinate, "Lock him up. Break his arms and legs. I’ll interrogate him myself once the Young Master is stable."

The mole was quickly dragged away without being able to make a sound.

The butler heard the commotion and came out to greet them. When he saw Cole Sinclair’s pale face as he clutched his arm, the color drained from his own. He knew something had happened and rushed to get the first-aid kit.

By the time Morgan Fisher arrived, speeding all the way to the villa, Cole Sinclair had already passed out.

"Young Master Fisher, you’re finally here."

"Calm down. Let me see the wound."

Seeing that Young Master Fisher had arrived, the butler breathed a sigh of relief and quietly slipped out of the room.