MIDNIGHT Bride The CEO's TEMPTATION

After seeing Greta off, Brent left the airport and drove back to the manor.

He parked the car and went inside the gate, only to find the atmosphere in the manor somewhat strange.

Several strong men stood on the doorsteps.

They were Barzini's trusted subordinates.

One of them, seeing he returned alone, sneered and came down.

Brent's heart gave a big jump.

Was Barzini back? Didn't Greta say he wouldn't return until next week?

He kept walking with an expressionless face.

"Why are you alone? Where's the young master?" One bald man asked.

Brent recognized the man was Beato, Barzini's confidant. He lowered his eyes and said calmly, "I don't know."

"Barzini's waiting for you," Beato shrugged.

Brent went in.

Barzini was sitting on the sofa in the luxurious living room, listening to the reports from his men. He waved them away as Brent came in.

"Greta left for LA this evening," he said slowly, and his eyes flashed with anger. "Why didn't you tell me instead of holding out on me?"

Brent didn't defend himself, and he didn't, as Greta ordered, pretend not to know her whereabouts. He hung his head and said stonily, "I'm sorry, Lord Barzini."

"Good." Barzini looked at him with fury in his voice, "You know how we punish the disobedient."

With that, he gestured to his men behind him.

One scar man handed Barzini a steel whip, which was always used on the traitors.

Barzini raised the whip and threw it hard at Brent.

A throbbing pain ran through Brent's back. He gave a silent moan and gritted his teeth without a word.

"You know what to do as Greta's bodyguard, don't you?" Barzini's sullen voice came coldly, "Keep an eye on her, and keep me informed of anything she does—that is your duty. But what did you do? You went to Milan with her, and this time, you saw her fly to LA without telling me. Oh, good."

Another cracking whipping fell on Brent's back!

Brent steeled and spat out blood.

"You've been with Greta for a long time, and you're becoming as stubborn as she is. I don't know whether she's influenced you or you've brought her down." Barzini ran his fingers on the whip with a grim smile.

As his last word fell, the whip fell again!

Brent's clothes had already split open, and the unhealed wounds on his back were broken open. His whole back was covered in blood, and finally, he fainted before the next whipping came.

***

Three days later.

Greta got off the plane in a good mood.

She went to her uncle's wedding yesterday. Though she didn't dare to meet the newly married couple, she met her little cousin and gave the wedding gift to him.

After all, she was to blame for making her uncle lying in bed in a coma for a year. How could she have the nerve to attend the wedding? She hesitated outside the wedding site and didn't leave until the ceremony was over.

Perhaps her uncle had forgiven her, but she was still guilty.

She was lucky enough to see her little cousin.

That boy was very pretty, cuter than she had imagined. He looked a little like her, especially his eyes and mouth.

She was sure her aunt and uncle would love the wedding gift.

Fearing that Barzini would come back early and her absence would be discovered, she did not stay long. She flew back to Rome on the same day.

The taxi stopped at the back door of the manor.

Greta got out with her small suitcase.

She had texted Brent before she boarded the plane, saying she would be back at this hour. Brent was supposed to be waiting for her at the back door. But when she got inside, no one was there.

A little puzzled, she dragged the suitcase quietly in.

Fortunately, no one was at the door today, and it was very quiet in the house.

Barzini was probably not back yet.

Greta breathed a sigh of relief and went upstairs to her bedroom. She stopped at Brent's closed door and knocked on it, trying to tell him she was back.

But no one answered.

She knocked on it again and then tried to wrench at the door-handle. The door opened, but there was no one in the room. Her heart was beating fast. She had a bad foreboding.

"Young master," struck in a displeasing voice from behind Greta. "You want Brent?"

Greta started, turning around, her back sweating.

She recognized Beato, Barzini's confidant.

Barzini was back?

So... Barzini already knew she went to LA secretly?

If so, he must have punished Brent.

"Where is Brent?" Greta found her voice trembled.

Beato said nothing but led Greta downstairs.

Down the stairs, he took her to the large basement where Barzini imprisoned his enemies and the betrayers.

It was cold and wet.

The further Greta went, the more frightened she became.

Finally, they stopped and got out of the way.

Greta froze in front of a cell in the basement.

Brent lay bloodied on the cold ground, breathing his last.

The clothes that hung about him were so ragged that the bloody marks left on his back were clear to be seen. The blood had dried on him. Some wounds even festered without timely care and medicine.

Barzini beat him to within an inch of his life!

Blame it all on her.

"Brent, Brent?" She darted to him but didn't dare to touch him for fear of hurting him.

Hearing Greta's voice, Brent opened his eyes slowly and moved his dry lips.

"Don't worry, I'm fine…"

She clenched her fist and looked at his blood-soaked body. He had been locked in the basement for at least two days. He would surely die without medical treatment.

"Let him go." Greta stood up and ordered Beato coldly.

"I can't let him go without Barzini's permission," he replied drily.

A murderous gleam shone in her cold eyes.

"Let him go!" She jerked out a pistol and aimed at the man.

"How dare you intercede for him!" A commanding voice wafted down from above the basement steps.

Looking over, Greta saw Barzini, accompanied by two strong bodyguards, standing on the top step.

She dropped the pistol slowly and then fell to her knees without hesitation.

"Dad, it's my fault. Brent is innocent. Please let him go," she said.

Barzini's eyes darkened.

"When did your heart become so soft, Greta? Besides, he's not innocent!"

Greta's change made him angrier than Greta's unannounced visit to LA.

He had a hard job to cultivate his foster daughter into a ruthless, cruel heir. He couldn't see her become so softhearted. How could his heir kneel and beg to him for a bodyguard?