Chapter 97: The Cottage Behind the Garden

Almost immediately after Andrew and Yeager disappeared through the garden doors, another servant hurried over to where Mindy and Ana stood.

This one was younger, dressed in the standard uniform of the Bose household staff, but something about his demeanor seemed off.

"Miss Bose," he addressed Ana with a respectful bow, though his voice carried an oddly flat quality that didn’t match his polite posture.

"Your father is asking for you."

Ana blinked in surprise, still holding her empty champagne glass.

"Me? What is it?"

She glanced back toward the ballroom where the engagement ceremony was clearly about to begin.

"Why would my father need me right now? The engagement is literally about to start."

The servant kept his head lowered, not quite meeting her eyes.

"I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t know the details. He specifically asked for you to come immediately. He said it was urgent."

Ana sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Fine, fine. I’m coming." She turned to Mindy with an exaggerated expression of suffering.

"You stay here and enjoy the ceremony. I’ll be back in two minutes—it’s probably just something boring about greeting some important guest or taking a family photo or something equally tedious."

Mindy hesitated, that same uneasy feeling growing stronger in her chest. Something about the servant’s tone bothered her, though she couldn’t articulate exactly what.

"Are you sure? Maybe I should come with you."

Ana waved her hand dismissively.

"Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just my dad. What could possibly happen? Besides, someone needs to stay here and tell me all the juicy details of the ceremony. I’m counting on you."

With that, Ana followed the servant toward the garden exit, disappearing into the same direction her father had gone just minutes before.

Mindy watched her friend’s retreating figure with growing concern. The unease that had been a small knot in her stomach now felt like a heavy weight. She tried to shake off the feeling, telling herself she was being paranoid, but couldn’t quite manage it.

A few moments later, Wade returned from his conversation with the businessmen. He glanced around briefly before asking, "Where’s Ana?"

"Mr. Bose called for her," Mindy answered, still staring toward the garden entrance with a troubled expression. "A servant came and said her father needed her urgently."

Wade simply nodded.

They stood together quietly.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Still...

Ana hadn’t returned.

Mindy frowned.

"I’ll go look for her."

Wade immediately stopped her.

"No."

"You stay here."

"Go find Grandpa."

"I’ll check."

Before Mindy could respond or ask any more questions, he was already walking away.

The further Wade walked from the ballroom, the quieter everything became.

The cheerful music and animated conversation that had filled the Bose mansion slowly faded behind him, replaced by the sounds of the night garden—insects chirping, leaves rustling in the evening breeze, and the distant sound of a fountain somewhere in the darkness.

The garden path was dimly lit by decorative lanterns hanging from trees at irregular intervals, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walkway.

Most of the guests remained inside for the ceremony, leaving the outdoor areas largely deserted.

Wade’s footsteps were silent on the smooth stones as he moved deeper into the garden, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow, every potential hiding place.

His breathing remained controlled. Then, cutting through the peaceful night sounds, came a muffled shout. Distant, barely audible, and cut off abruptly as though someone had been silenced mid-cry.

Wade’s eyes narrowed. He adjusted his direction slightly and moved faster, still maintaining his silent approach.

Ahead, partially hidden by carefully manicured hedges and flowering trees, stood a small guest cottage that the Bose family rarely used during parties.

It was one of several such buildings scattered throughout the extensive estate grounds—originally built to house important guests during extended visits, but now mostly serving as storage or overflow space during large events.

The cottage’s windows were covered with curtains, but a faint light escaped through the gaps, creating thin lines of illumination in the darkness. Wade slowed his approach, moving with even greater caution now. He circled around to the back of the building, staying in the shadows, his footsteps making no sound on the grass.

One window at the back wasn’t completely covered—the curtain had been pulled carelessly, leaving a narrow gap of perhaps two or three inches. It was enough.

Wade positioned himself carefully in the darkness where he wouldn’t be visible from inside, pressed close to the wall, and looked through the gap.

What he saw made his expression instantly darken with cold fury.

Inside the cottage, a fat middle-aged man sat comfortably in an upholstered chair in the center of the room, smoking an expensive cigar.

Everything about him radiated casual arrogance—from his expensive but poorly fitted suit to the way he lounged in the chair as though he owned not just the room but everyone in it.

Three bodyguards stood around him in a loose semicircle, one of them armed with pistol visible in shoulder holsters or tucked into waistband.

Andrew Bose stood opposite them, and the transformation from the confident businessman in the ballroom was shocking.

His face had gone pale, his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, and his entire body radiated tension and barely suppressed rage.

But beneath the anger, Wade could see something else—fear. Real, genuine fear.

Yeager had been forced onto his knees on the floor. His hands were tied behind his back with what looked like zip ties, tight enough that Wade could see them cutting into his wrists. His face was already bruised and swollen, with blood dripping from a split lip and a cut above his eyebrow.

Someone had beaten him up.

But what made Wade’s hands curl into fists was Ana.

She stood near the wall, held firmly by one of the bodyguards who had her arm twisted behind her back.

Another man stood directly beside her, a pistol pointed at her head with the cold metal pressed against her temple.

Ana’s face was defiant despite the obvious terror in her eyes, and Wade could see her trembling even from his position outside.

The cottage’s walls muffled the sound, but Wade could hear fragments of conversation through the glass—enough to understand what was happening.

"...the contract..." the fat man was saying, his voice lazy and confident. "...orphanage land... prime development location... worth millions..."

"...never..." That was Andrew’s voice, shaking with emotion. "...thirty children... their home..."

Then Ana’s voice rang out, clear and furious despite her fear. "You foul fatso! He will never sign it! You can threaten all you want, but my father won’t destroy an orphanage for your greed!"

The leader slowly turned his head toward her, his expression shifting from amused to coldly annoyed. He didn’t say a word—simply nodded once to the man holding the gun.

The bodyguard immediately slammed the metal pistol across Ana’s forehead in a vicious backhand strike.

The sound of metal hitting flesh was sickening even through the window.

Ana stumbled backward, only staying upright because the other man still held her arm. Blood immediately began trickling down her temple from where the gun had split the skin, running down the side of her face in a dark stream.

Outside, Wade’s entire body went rigid. Every muscle tensed. His hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles went white.

But he didn’t move. Not yet. He forced himself to stay still, to observe, to calculate. Rushing in without a plan would only get people killed.

He counted the men again. Four total—the fat leader and three bodyguards. One of them was armed that he could see, possibly all four.

One was holding Ana. The angles were bad. The distance from the door to Ana was at least fifteen feet. Too far to reach her before someone could pull a trigger.

He needed a better opening.

Inside, the fat man exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke and spoke again, his voice carrying clearly now.

"One more word from you, girl, and I’ll shoot your father instead. Would you like to watch him die because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut?"

Andrew’s face had gone from pale to ashen.

"Ana!"

"Don’t touch her!"

The leader leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed, as though this were a normal business negotiation rather than a hostage situation.

"Mr. Bose, let me make this very simple for you. That orphanage land you own—the property on the east side of the city—I want it.

All of it.

You’re going to transfer every inch of it to my company tonight, and you’re going to do it for exactly one dollar, making it look like a charitable donation."

Andrew’s eyes burned with helpless rage. "Never. I won’t do it. Thirty children live there. It’s the only home most of them have ever known. I won’t destroy their lives so you can build another shopping complex."

The fat man chuckled, a dark, unpleasant sound. "How noble. How touching." His expression hardened.

"So let me understand this correctly—you love those orphans, those children who aren’t even yours, more than your own daughter?"

He gestured lazily toward Ana. "More than your own flesh and blood?"

Ana gritted her teeth, blood still flowing down her face, mixing with tears she was trying desperately not to shed. "Dad! Don’t listen to him! Don’t you dare sign that contract!

Yeager struggled violently against his restraints, trying to get to his feet despite his bound hands. "Leave Miss Bose alone! This is between you and Mr. Bose! Let her go!"

One of the bodyguards stepped forward and kicked Yeager brutally in the stomach with his heavy boot.

The impact was savage, lifting Yeager slightly off the ground before he collapsed forward, coughing and choking, blood spraying from his mouth.

"Shut up," the bodyguard said coldly, drawing his foot back for another kick.

The leader checked his expensive watch with exaggerated casualness. "You know what? I’m getting bored with this negotiation. Let’s add some motivation."

He looked up at Andrew with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "You have ten seconds to sign that contract. If you don’t..."

He nodded toward Ana, and the man holding the gun cocked it with a loud, metallic click that seemed to echo through the room.

"If you don’t sign, my men will cripple your daughter. We’ll start with her legs—shatter both kneecaps so she’ll never walk properly again. Then we’ll move to her hands—break every finger one by one. And then..." He paused deliberately, letting the threat hang in the air. "Well, we’ll see how much you love those orphans after that. Maybe we’ll get creative."

Andrew’s entire body began to tremble. Sweat dripped down his forehead despite the cool evening air.

His eyes darted frantically between Ana’s terrified face and the contract lying on the small table beside the fat man’s chair. His breathing became ragged and uneven.

One was his daughter—his own child.

The other was the home of thirty innocent children who had nowhere else to go, who depended on that orphanage for everything.

How could anyone make such a choice?

"Ten..." the fat man began counting, his voice almost cheerful now.

"Nine..."

Ana’s eyes filled with tears that finally spilled over, mixing with the blood on her face. But even now, even terrified, she didn’t beg. "Dad, don’t..."

"Eight..."

Andrew’s hand began to shake uncontrollably.

"Seven..."

Yeager tried to speak but could only manage a choked, bloody gasp.

"Six..."

The bodyguard pressed the pistol harder against Ana’s temple, making her wince in pain.

"Five..."

Andrew took a stumbling step toward the table where the contract lay.

"Four..."

His trembling hand reached out toward the pen lying beside the papers.

"Three..."

Ana screamed, her voice breaking. "No! Dad, no! Don’t sign it! Please!"

"Two..."

Andrew picked up the pen, his hand shaking so badly he could barely hold it. Tears were streaming down his face now, his expression one of absolute anguish.

"One—"

BANG!

The cottage door exploded inward with tremendous force. Wood splintered and cracked. The lock mechanism shattered completely, sending pieces of metal flying.