Chapter 190
Harrison stood frozen, unable to form words.
The phone crackled with Penelope's giddy voice. "Harrison, you won't believe this! Dr. Sinclair—the brilliant surgeon—is actually a man! And guess what? He's completely smitten with me. We're officially together now!"
What?
Harrison's thoughts spiraled into chaos.
"I can't talk long. I'll explain everything later. But listen—you need to come home in a few days," Penelope rushed out before abruptly ending the call. Harrison's instincts screamed scam.
Taking a steadying breath, Harrison shook her head and headed for a scalding shower. The moment she stepped out, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Daphne.
Daphne's voice trembled with raw panic, her sobs audible. "Harrison, I'm in trouble. Please—I need your help."
Harrison's grip on the phone turned vice-like. "Daphne, what happened?"
"I'm working at The Grand Celeste as a server. Tonight, my manager took... an interest in me. He demanded I spend the night with him. I panicked and locked myself in the bathroom, but his guards are posted outside, watching me. Harrison, I'm terrified! I don't have anyone else to call—"
Her voice shattered into another sob.
"Stay where you are. Don't move. I'm coming now," Harrison commanded, already grabbing her keys.
"Thank you," Daphne whispered, relief threading her voice.
Harrison sprinted to The Grand Celeste.
She spotted the two hulking bodyguards flanking the women's restroom entrance. Without hesitation, she strode inside.
Daphne was curled against the sink, tear tracks streaking her makeup, her entire body shaking. "You came," she gasped.
Harrison seized her hands. "We're leaving. Now."
"But Victor's men are out there—how?" Daphne's voice wavered.
"Disguises." Harrison yanked a sleek dress, oversized sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed hat from her bag. "Put these on."
In minutes, Daphne transformed from a timid waitress to a glamorous socialite—unrecognizable.
"Let's go." Harrison gripped her elbow and marched them out.
The guards' eyes skimmed over Daphne. Her fingers trembled violently in Harrison's grasp.
A firm squeeze. A silent promise.
They made it ten paces before Daphne gasped. "My bag! It's still in there—all my tips—"
Harrison lunged to stop her. "Too risky. Leave it."
But Daphne twisted free and bolted back.
"No!" Harrison's shout came too late.
Victor Blackwell emerged like a predator, flanked by his men. The leering manager's gaze locked onto Daphne. "Did you really think you could run, sweetheart? Bring her to my suite. And make sure she's... prepared."
The guards seized Daphne, whose face drained of color.
Harrison moved like lightning, shielding Daphne with her body. Her glare could have frozen hell.
"Touch her again," she hissed, "and you'll regret it."