Leon Sterling led him to the conference room, pulled out a chair, and sat down. His gaze fixed on Vincent Hawthorne as he continued his questioning, "Who bailed you out of prison?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Leon Sterling felt it was impossible. With the Zane Family involved, Vincent should have been stuck in prison for life.
’Who has more power than the Zane Family?’
’Could it be the Holloway Family?’
But as soon as the thought appeared, he dismissed it. The Holloway Family had always kept a low profile in Veridia. The only one who was regularly seen out was Cillian Holloway, drinking at bars and hanging out with a bad crowd.
After ruling out those two families, Leon Sterling couldn’t think of anyone else who could have gotten Vincent Hawthorne out of prison.
’Besides, does Vincent Hawthorne even know someone with that kind of powerful background?’
Leon Sterling’s handsome brows knitted together, his eyes filled with confusion as he stared at Vincent Hawthorne.
"Leon Sterling, this time, I won’t let you and your wife off the hook." Vincent Hawthorne ignored his confusion. He planted his hands on the long table, leaned forward slightly, and spoke slowly, his eyes burning with hatred.
"Didn’t that Hazel Sinclair of yours love faking her death by jumping into the sea? Well, I’m going to make sure she dies in the sea for real," Vincent Hawthorne said with a smile, but on closer inspection, it was a chilling, mirthless expression that sent a shiver down the spine.
"You dare!" The mention of Hazel Sinclair changed Leon Sterling’s entire demeanor. He warned, "If that day ever comes, don’t even think about getting out alive yourself."
Who would have thought that upon hearing this, Vincent Hawthorne would burst out laughing. "My life is worthless. You think I care?"
"After all the suffering and torment I endured in prison, do you really think I’d let you go?"
"I had to get on the ground like a dog and shine people’s shoes. I was bullied everywhere I went. They even made me eat scraps off the floor," Vincent Hawthorne recounted, one by one, the hardships he had suffered in prison.
His hatred erupted, impossible to contain. He ground out through gritted teeth, "Every time something like that happened, I wished I could kill you both."
’I’m supposed to be the protagonist of this world! What does it mean to be suppressed like this by a villain?’
"You deserved it." Looking at him, Leon Sterling replied with just three words.
’Deserved it?’
Vincent Hawthorne clenched his jaw, his expression cold as he stared at him, but his dark eyes were filled with nothing but hatred.
Seeing him like this, Leon Sterling stood up to show him the door. "You should go."
After sending him away, Leon Sterling sat in his office’s swivel chair, his brow deeply furrowed and his hands clasped on the desk.
He still couldn’t figure out how Vincent Hawthorne had gotten out.
Finally, Leon Sterling took out his phone and called Cillian Holloway.
Cillian Holloway, who was busy looking for his girlfriend, answered the phone impatiently. "What is it?"
"Let’s talk in person."
"No time."
Leon Sterling tossed out his bait. "I know where Jill Kensington is."
"Wait." After saying that one word, Cillian Holloway hung up.
Soon enough, Cillian Holloway arrived at his studio and headed straight for the office.
Pushing the door open, Cillian Holloway sat down without waiting for an invitation.
"Spit it out. Where is Jill Kensington?" Cillian Holloway was more concerned about this.
Leon Sterling spoke unhurriedly, "Help me look into someone."
"Who?" Cillian Holloway asked, looking at him.
"Vincent Hawthorne."
Hearing the name, Cillian Holloway asked in confusion, "Didn’t you guys send him to prison? Why look into him?"
"No, he’s out. He just came here threatening to kill me and Hazel," Leon Sterling said, shaking his head.
"Help me find out how he got out of prison. See who was behind it."
"Fine. Where’s Jill Kensington?" Cillian Holloway agreed without a second thought.
"Ashvale."
Seeing him answer without hesitation, Cillian Holloway gave him a deep look and said with conviction, "So you really did know."
"I did," Leon Sterling nodded. "But I promised my wife I wouldn’t tell."
Hearing this, Cillian Holloway retorted snidely, "So you’re telling me now? Aren’t you afraid your wife will chew you out if she finds out?"
"This is a matter of safety. I don’t mind getting an earful from her," Leon Sterling said nonchalantly.
Cillian Holloway shot him a deep look, then asked, "You just do whatever your wife says?"
"Don’t you think that’s a little pathetic?"
Leon Sterling looked at him, speechless. ’Who still thinks listening to their wife is pathetic these days?’
"Not at all," Leon Sterling replied. "Only a young punk like you would think it’s embarrassing."
Then, as if he realized something, he looked at Cillian Holloway and sneered, "Don’t tell me you lost your girlfriend because you were too concerned with your pride?"
"If so, you really deserved it."
Cillian’s already sour expression soured even further after those two remarks.
He stood up and tossed out, "I’m leaving."
Watching his retreating back, Leon Sterling added teasingly, "Pride is definitely more important than a girlfriend."
Sitting in his car, Cillian Holloway sent a message to his older brother.
[Cillian Holloway: Bro, help me look someone up.]
[Who.]
After sending the name, he started looking up routes to Ashvale.
There were no direct flights or high-speed trains. He would have to transfer after reaching the main city, a journey that would take half a day altogether.
Cillian Holloway didn’t understand why she would go to such a remote place. He grumbled internally, but his hands still went ahead and paid for the plane ticket.
He bought a ticket for an evening flight that would land at eleven at night. From there, it would take another two hours to get to a hotel.
After buying the ticket, Cillian Holloway drove off. He needed to go home and pack a couple of changes of clothes.
After visiting the museum, Hazel Sinclair and Jill went for a stroll in a nearby plaza.
When they were done, it was time for dinner, so the two of them went to check out the biggest night market street.
By the time they got back to the hotel, they were both completely exhausted.
Their muscles were already sore, and after a full day of intense walking, their feet were killing them.
"My feet!" Hazel Sinclair cried out, sitting on a chair. "They hurt so much."
"Do you think I got blisters?" Hazel Sinclair asked worriedly.
"Probably not," Jill Kensington replied. Her face looked a little pale. She placed a hand over her lower abdomen, her brows knitted in a frown.
’Why is there a stabbing pain in my stomach? Am I getting my period?’
With that thought, she rummaged through her suitcase, grabbed a sanitary pad, and took her pajamas into the bathroom.
She checked. Her underwear wasn’t stained with blood; she hadn’t gotten her period.
’Then what’s going on?’
Just then, she recalled something Hazel Sinclair had said before. Jill Kensington raised a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling a growing sense of unease.
After she came out of the shower, she sat on the bed, looked at Hazel Sinclair, and called out, "Hazel..."
"What’s wrong?" Hazel Sinclair was still sprawled lazily on her own bed. Hearing her name, she turned her head to look over and ask.
"Can you... can you come with me to the hospital tomorrow?"
"Are you hurt? Is it serious?" Hearing that she needed to go to the hospital, Hazel Sinclair immediately sat bolt upright and asked.
Jill Kensington lowered her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I’ve had this stabbing pain in my stomach since noon..."