Chapter 612: Fired a Shot at Her, Crippling Her

"Heh." Quentin Blackwood’s expression lacked even a sliver of warmth, his voice so cold it defied reason. "I gave you a chance, but you refused to realize your mistakes."

To think she dared impersonate the girl from back then to deceive him—she must have a death wish. He came this time not just to verify the truth, but to make Claire Sherwood pay the price she deserved.

"Don’t you love doing charity work and cooking for others? Then you can do it for the rest of your life." With that, Quentin stood up.

As he opened the door, he waved his hand. Several men immediately entered and moved to drag Claire away.

"No... no... Quentin, I’m your savior! You can’t treat me like this!"

Claire struggled wildly, but she was no match for Quentin.

"Let go of me! Quentin, that Jade Pendant is mine! You gave it to me! I was the one who brought you food back then! You would be dead if it weren’t for me! You heartless, ungrateful man! You’ll regret this! You’ll definitely die a horrible death!"

Claire roared, but Quentin remained completely unmoved. Plenty of people had cursed him before; Claire’s words were nothing to him.

Seeing that Quentin didn’t seem to care at all, Claire continued her vicious tirade, "And that Ivy Sherwood! That bitch stole everything from me and ruined my life! She’ll get her karma too! She deserves to die! She’ll get hit by a car the moment she steps outside! I curse her to—"

BANG.

Before Claire could finish, a gunshot rang out. The next second, she shrieked in sheer agony, "Ah!"

She clutched her calf. On her pale leg, a bloody hole had appeared, fresh blood gushing out. The intense pain made Claire bare her teeth in agony.

Unable to move, she screamed wretchedly, "Ah! Ah—"

Quentin simply looked at her, his eyes entirely devoid of mercy. "She will live a long, good life. But you... you will be like a roach in the gutter, never able to crawl back out for the rest of your life."

His gaze was truly terrifying. He was like a mafia godfather, utterly ruthless.

She realized that she had been fine when cursing him just a moment ago, but the second she insulted Ivy, Quentin actually shot her. Even earlier, when he confronted her for deceiving him, he hadn’t pulled the trigger. She wondered if Ivy was really that important in Quentin’s heart—more important than himself—so much so that no one was even allowed to utter a single bad word about her.

Quentin tilted his head and glanced at the men restraining Claire. "If she doesn’t know how to speak, then ensure she never speaks again."

"Yes, sir." The men immediately understood.

"No! What are you going to do? Quentin, I’m begging you! Please, I beg you! I know I was wrong! I won’t ever say anything again! I admit it, I wasn’t the one who brought you food back then. Please, just let me go! Consider it building good karma for Ivy!" Enduring the excruciating pain, Claire fell to her knees behind Quentin.

Quentin didn’t even spare her a glance as he walked away. No matter how heart-wrenchingly Claire screamed behind him, he remained completely indifferent.

"Ah! Quentin, you can’t do this to me! Ah!" Claire bawled. "I didn’t even do anything wrong! I never hurt Ivy! Why are you doing this to me?!"

Quentin had already walked far away; there was no way he could hear her anymore. Even if he had, it would only make her end come faster.

The men beside Claire ruthlessly grabbed her jaw, not even giving her time to panic. "What are you doing?!"

These men had followed Quentin for a long time. They were fierce and spoke little. Getting straight to work, one of them coldly said, "Mr. Blackwood said to make sure you never speak again for the rest of your life."

"Ah!"

"Help! Help me! Jason Summers, where are your men?! You told me to cooperate with you! Hurry up and save me!"

In her sheer desperation, Claire clung to any hope she could find. She knew there were surveillance cameras here and that Jason Summers could see her. Although Jason’s men were in hiding, they were still outside. Jason had promised her that no matter what happened, he would guarantee her safety and come to her rescue immediately.

But where were his men? Where were they?!

Claire waited in vain. Ultimately, she could only watch helplessly as her tongue was severed.

"Ah!"

That was the very last syllable Claire would ever utter in her life.

After Quentin left the room, he tossed the gun to Zane Linton, who was waiting nearby.

Seeing Quentin come out, Zane stepped forward. "President Blackwood, Jason Summers’ men have all been taken away by our people."

"Good," Quentin nodded.

He hadn’t come alone or empty-handed. Not knowing what Jason was plotting by calling him here, Quentin had naturally brought plenty of backup. With all of Jason’s secretly stationed men apprehended by Quentin’s subordinates, Claire’s desperate cries for help were destined to go unanswered.

Everyone had to pay the price for their mistakes. Bullying others came with a price, lying came with a price, and aiding evildoers came with a price.

Although Claire hadn’t outwardly done much against Ivy, the truth was she had been targeting her since childhood. Along with her sister, Thea Sherwood, she had caused Ivy untold suffering and hardship within the Sherwood family. Claire had stolen the credit that rightfully belonged to Ivy—those good deeds weren’t done by Claire at all. Furthermore, Claire had assisted Jason Summers. That was the real reason she deserved to die.

However, Quentin didn’t have a habit of killing people; he was different from Elijah Hawthorne. Elijah preferred to deliver a fatal blow, whereas Quentin preferred to make his enemies live in endless agony, dragging out a miserable existence for the rest of their lives.

Claire would now be thrown out of the country. As long as Quentin was around, she could forget about ever coming back. Her vocal cords were destroyed, ensuring she would never speak again. As for her leg, though Quentin had only fired one shot, the placement was critical. It shattered the bone. Even if it healed, she would never walk normally again.

Claire’s life was officially ruined. There would be no future for her. She had been dealt a decent hand, but she played it into absolute garbage.

Although he had suspected since yesterday that Ivy was the little girl from back then, now that he knew the definitive truth, Quentin couldn’t wait to see her. He dialed her number, and she picked up quickly, though her tone sounded rather flat.

"Hello?"

"Ivy, where are you?" A trace of urgency laced Quentin’s voice.

He wanted to see her; he wanted to be by her side immediately.

As it turned out, the bond between him and Ivy was profound. Not only had their mothers hit it off and arranged their childhood engagement, but Ivy was also the little girl who had brought him food all those years ago. What kind of fate was it that allowed the two of them to intersect so deeply even before they truly knew each other?

Perhaps it was all ordained by the heavens—destined in the unseen workings of the universe.

Quentin had never believed in fate or destiny before, but now he did. He felt as though the red string of fate between him and Ivy had been tangled together from the very beginning. Along the way, it had become knotted with a few stray threads, but now that those branches were cleared away, it was just the two of them again. It was always destined to be them.