Chapter 8
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“Holy crap, Juliette! When did you get this badass?” Daphne squealed, grabbing Juliette’s arm. Her eyes sparkled with admiration, like she was looking at a real–life superhero.
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Juliette couldn’t help but smile. Looking at Daphne’s youthful, lively face, she reached out to ruffle her hair. “So? Impressed?”
“Impressed? You’re freaking amazing! With you here, I feel invincible!” Daphne practically bounced on the spot, her excitement spilling over.
Meanwhile, the three thugs had somehow scrambled back to their feet. Wiping the blood off their faces, one of them spat viciously, “Listen, little bitches, you better behave yourselves, or don’t blame us for what happens next!”
Juliette’s gaze turned icy, her eyes sweeping over them like a blade. That look alone could freeze someone in their tracks.
Three minutes later, those same men were crumpled on the floor, barely conscious. Juliette worked swiftly, tying them up on the balcony with practiced ease.
Holding a cold blade, she tapped it lightly against one thug’s cheek, her tone calm but cutting. “Now, what was that you called us just now?”
“Please, miss, we’re sorry! We’ll never do it again! Someone paid us to do this!” The man sobbed, his face a swollen mess.
“Oh?” Juliette raised an eyebrow, her voice like frost. “Who sent you?”
“We… we don’t know. He didn’t give us his name…”
Juliette pulled out her phone and showed them a photo. “This guy?”
“Yes, yes, that’s him! He paid us to mess with Daphne !”
Daphne froze, her eyes wide with shock. She turned to look at the photo on Juliette’s phone, her stomach sinking as she recognized the man.
Before she could process it further, the door flew open with a bang. Standing in the doorway was Graham.
ressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, he had the clean, polished look of a gentleman.
Daphne stood at the balcony door, blocking his view of Juliette. Graham’s gaze immediately fell on her, the only person he could see.
His heart skipped a beat at the sight before him: bloodstains on the floor, furniture overturned, the whole place in chaos- yet Daphne looked unharmed. As for the three thugs, they were nowhere in sight. This was definitely not the scene he’d imagined.
He had a whole heroic speech planned out-“Miss, are you alright? I heard fighting. Did you get hurt? Don’t worry, I’m here to save you!”
But before he could open his mouth, Juliette cut him off. In the most violent way possible.
She stepped out from behind Daphne, grabbed a chair, and without a word, swung it straight at Graham’s head.
“Bang!” The chair connected with a sickening thud. Blood trickled down Graham’s forehead as he crumpled to the ground, stunned.
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Juliette tossed the chair aside like it was nothing and turned to Daphne. “He’s with them. I had to act first to keep you safe.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it! You did the right thing!” Daphne nodded quickly, her eyes darting to the unconscious Graham.
Then her expression shifted, recognition dawning. “Wait, isn’t that the guy from the photo? What do we do now? We’re out of rope… Should I just call the cops?”
Juliette’s lips curled into a faint smile. Daphne didn’t try to stop her and was even offering to help. She glanced down at Graham, who was still groaning in pain, and felt a wave of satisfaction.
This sudden twist threw all his plans straight out the window.
He’d done his research on Juliette–Daphne’s quiet, demure best friend. From everything he knew, she was just a timid, goody–two–shoes who wanted nothing more than to settle down and play the perfect heiress.
So he thought she’d never go near a seedy place like Golden Breeze, not in a million years. That’s why he’d set the trap with such confidence.
But now, reality hit him harder than the chair. ‘What the hell is Juliette doing here?‘ he thought, ‘And how the fuck did she blow up my plan?‘
This is not how it was supposed to go.
“Juliette, he’s not out yet. Should I smash this vase over his head? Daphne asked eagerly, grabbing a ceramic vase and jogging over.
Juliette thought about it for a moment. In her past life, Daphne had suffered horribly because of Graham, even losing her life to his schemes.
Letting Daphne get some payback now seemed like the least they could do.
“Go for the back of his head, but don’t kill him,” Juliette said flatly
Graham was out cold. His body crumpled like a rag doll as the vase smashed into the back of his head. Blood streamed down his neck, and the room spun like a carnival ride before his eyes.
Daphne stood frozen, her hands trembling as if they still felt the impact. Her lips pressed into a tight, pale line, and she looked ready to bolt.
Juliette noticed immediately. She stepped forward, calmly took the vase from her hands, and tossed it aside with a flick of
her wrist.
Then she gave Daphne a thumbs–up and grinned.“Daphne, you nailed it. That’s what I call self–defense.”
“Uh–huh… Juliette,” Daphne whispered, nodding like a scolded kid clinging to reassurance. Her wide eyes were filled with reliance.
But Juliette’s expression shifted. Her smile disappeared, replaced by a sharp focus. “Someone’s coming.”
Daphne’s face paled. “What if it’s his buddies?”
“Could be. Go hide on the balcony,” Juliette said, her voice steady already preparing for the worst.
“No way! I’m not leaving you here alone!” Daphne’s voice was shaky but resolute.
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Juliette sighed, speaking with deliberate calm. “If you’re here, I’ll have to worry about you, too. But if you’re hidden, I can focus on taking them down. You want me to win, right?”
Daphne hesitated, gripping another vase like it was a weapon of mass destruction. “Fine. But I’ll hide on the balcony, and if things go south, I’ll smash this on someone’s head, and we’ll make a break for it.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Juliette smirked and nodded.
Daphne didn’t waste time. She stepped over Graham, who was groaning pitifully, and ducked out onto the balcony without a second glance.
Right then, the door slammed open with a crash. Juliette, who had been waiting by the door, didn’t hesitate.
She swung her fist hard at the intruder, her punch slicing through the air like a blade.
But it never landed.
The punch was intercepted mid–flight, her knuckles swallowed by a large, steady hand. The grip was firm, immovable, like an iron vise.
Juliette’s heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t an average thug.
He twisted her arm, trying to lock her down, but she was faster. Instead of fighting the move, she pivoted and snapped her leg up in a fierce kick.
He blocked it effortlessly, his movements smooth, almost lazy. Her wrist was free for just a second, but she didn’t waste it- her fingers darted toward his throat.
And then she froze. The faint scent of cedarwood hit her nose. It was clean, sharp, familiar. Her breath caught. ‘Patrick?‘
Her instincts were right. He had her leg in one hand and her wrist inches from his throat in the other.
He moved slowly, calmly, removing his sunglasses to reveal those ice–cold eyes–deep and unreadable, but with a flicker of irritation glinting beneath the surface.
Juliette’s chest tightened. She didn’t lower her guard, her voice dropping to a cold, even tone. “Mr. Clarke, we have no quarrel. I’ll count to three. Let’s release each other at the same time.”
But before she could even start counting, Patrick released her leg, just like that.
She blinked, momentarily thrown. ‘Does he trust me, or is he just that confident?‘
Before she could dwell on it, Patrick stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his chest before she could react.
She felt the hard, firm heat of his body through her clothes. His presence was suffocating, overwhelming, and she instinctively tried to pull back.
He didn’t let her. Instead, he shifted to the side, stepping out of the pool of blood on the floor before finally letting her go.
“The floor’s filthy,” he said, as if that explained everything.
Juliette stumbled slightly as she stepped away, her cheeks burning. Rumors said Patrick was cold and distant, someone who never touched women. And yet here he was, holding her like it was nothing.
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And if the whispers about his secret child were true, then all that talk about him being immune to women was just PR bullshit.
“Who’s out there?” Patrick’s sharp eyes snapped toward the balcony.
Daphne peeked in, still clutching the vase like a lifeline. Her face was tight with nerves as she glanced at Juliette. “Juliette… he’s not one of the bad guys, right?”
“Bad guys? Us?” Another voice rang out before Juliette could answer. Henry stepped into the room, his usual cheeky grin plastered across his face.
“Come on, don’t tell me you don’t recognizé him. Patrick, the one and only Best Actor. Miss Vaughn, didn’t Patrick just save your life not long ago at the Vaughn residence? How could you forget?”
Juliette forced a tight smile. “No, I haven’t forgotten. He’s not a bad guy.” But inwardly, she was cursing.
This night was supposed to be about teaching Graham a lesson, not running into him.
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If her suspicions about her and Louis were right, there was no way she could let him see her acting like this. If he told Louis, that would ruin everything.
Her mind raced. She needed to get him out of here–fast.
Grabbing Daphne’s hand, she forced a calm, casual tone. “This place is a mess. We were just about to leave. Mr. Clarke, what about you?“She didn’t wait for a response, tugging Daphne toward the door. Tonight wasn’t over yet.
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