The Billionaire's Genius Wife

Chapter 338 Furious



“No! Don’t kill her. She’s quite a beauty… The boss might enjoy having this girl warm his bed!” the other man leered, revealing his repugnant yellow teeth.

Scarlett, “…”

‘Do they think I’m easy to bully!?’ Scarlett muttered to herself.

Fueled by anger, she swiftly aimed her gun at the man with a scar on his face’s temple and pulled the trigger. She tilted her body slightly in one fluid motion and hurled her sharp dagger toward the other man’s chest, aiming to distract him. With impeccable precision, she then fired a shot into his chest.

A piercing scream echoed through the corridor, but Scarlett remained unfazed, knowing that the remaining man would meet the same merciless fate if they appeared before her now.

In a matter of seconds, not even a minute, she had eliminated them both. The events unfolded with such swiftness that the men collapsed onto the hard marble floor, lifeless.

Once she was sure they were dead, Scarlett continued her determined march toward her father’s study.

****

While in Jonathan Piers’ study room. There were four men in the room. They all stood before Jonathan Piers while the poor man kneeled in a battered state.

Jonathan’s face was barely recognizable, with bloodshot and swollen eyes from the beatings, a bloody mouth with a wound on his lips, and a pool of blood on the floor from a gunshot in his leg.

Jonathan remained bewildered by these men who suddenly tortured him, making him feel the pain he never felt before and demanding information about a certain Rosalie Withers.

Who was she? And what document were they referring to? He had never heard of such names before. Whenever he tried to inquire about Rosalie Withers, they would brutally beat him, treating him like a punching bag.

Amidst his confusion and fear, Jonathan also heard gunshots resonating throughout the house, which made him realize that these men intended to eliminate everyone in this house, including him.

“S-Sir…” Jonathan’s head hung low as he looked at the intimidating man’s shiny black leather boots. “I don’t understand what you’re looking for. I have no knowledge of Rosalie Withers. Perhaps you’ve come to the wrong house. Please… spare my life. I promise I won’t report you, but please leave my house.” His voice sounded hoarse and weak.

Overwhelmed by a nameless pain coursing through his body, Jonathan wished for a swift death, a bullet to his heart or head, anything to end the pain from the torture.

“Leader,” another man in the room approached the one with shoulder-length hair. “Perhaps he truly doesn’t know anything about that woman. Our boss mentioned that she used an alternate identity while living here. If I recall correctly, her name was Mikayla Davies!”

Jonathan, barely conscious, felt a sense of impending death as he gasped and furrowed his brow upon hearing his wife’s name being called. Mikayla Davies? How did these individuals know about her?

While attempting to make sense of the situation, Jonathan slowly lifted his head and locked his gaze on the man with shoulder-length hair standing before him.

Before Jonathan could inquire further, the man spoke, “Jinathan Piers, it seems you are familiar with Mikayla Davies!” A wide grin adorned his menacing face. “Now, tell me where the woman’s belongings are. Don’t dare to lie, or you’ll meet your death right now!” he threatened.

Jonathan, unafraid of death, was profoundly confused. How could these people resort to killing all of them just for Mikayla’s stuff? None of Mikayla’s belongings remained in this house. He only had a picture of Mikayla, which he had already given to his daughter, Scarlett.

‘SCARLETT!’ Jonathan screamed inwardly. His nearly closed eyes instantly widened as he realized his daughter was on her way to this house.

His bloodied hands hung limply by his side, tightly clenched. The nameless pain that had plagued him earlier vanished, replaced by the horrifying thought of these individuals torturing his daughter as well.

‘Scarlett, please, please don’t come here…” he prayed, consumed by fear. ‘God, please ensure my daughter doesn’t arrive! Guide her back to the capital!’

“You refuse to tell me?” the man with shoulder-length hair questioned. “Fine!” He raised his gun and shot Jonathan in the shoulder, sending him flying backward and crashing to the floor. “What a foolish man!” he continued, shaking his head in disdain.

“Leader,” another man in the room spoke in a low voice. “There’s someone outside!”

The man with shoulder-length hair frowned and looked towards the door. “Go check!” he commanded, then approached Jonathan. “Jonathan Piers, if you don’t speak, then prepare to die!” he declared, lifting his boot and stepping on Jonathan’s injured shoulder.

“Aaarrrgggg…” Jonathan let out a howl of agony, echoing through the room.

Scarlett was startled by the sound of a gunshot on her way to her father’s study. She hurriedly ran towards the door. The door swung open wide before she could forcefully open it, revealing another man before her. Without hesitation, she shot him in the head and kicked him, causing his body to recoil back into the room and slump onto the hard floor.

Her gaze, devoid of any warmth, scanned the room. She spotted two men staring at her in shock. She swiftly shot them both in the temples without giving them a chance to react. The two burly men collapsed to the floor with a resounding thud.

She noticed another man remaining in the room, and in a split second, she aimed her gun at his temple as well.

“Stop! Or he dies!” the man with shoulder-length hair threatened Scarlett.

Scarlett showed no emotion as she locked eyes with the menacing man. However, when her gaze shifted to Jonathan Piers, a surge of boiling blood rushed through her veins. Witnessing her father’s battered body on the floor, covered in wounds, ignited an indescribable anger within her.

Jonathan’s eyes slowly opened, and he was shocked to see Scarlett standing by the door. Summoning his remaining strength, he mustered a weak voice. “D-Daugh-ter… R-run…” His words trailed off as darkness gradually engulfed him.


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