Chapter 388: Someone Wants Her Dead
As they had signed an agreement in front of so many people, Morgan couldn't go back on his word. Otherwise, he would lose his credibility.
Morgan's face was stern. "A bet is a bet."
With Morgan's words, Ophelia felt reassured. "I hope you will keep your promise."
"I agreed, so I will follow through. However, I never promised to release your husband tomorrow," Morgan said. "Your husband is accused of rape. I advise you not to be so persistent for a man like that. You'd be better off living with me. I guarantee you wealth."
He was trying to renege on the deal.
There was no clear release time, which was a loophole.
Ophelia was immediately displeased. "Morgan, are you going back on your word?"
"Ophelia, don't be angry. Angry women age faster," Morgan laughed. "I promised to save your husband, so I will go to the police station. Wait for my updates tomorrow."
Ophelia had no other option for the time being and could only wait.
She gave Tate a look. "Let's go."
Tate nodded, and the two left the casino.
Morgan stared thoughtfully at Ophelia's back. He longed to have her. The thought of such a beautiful woman not being his was enough to make him feel restless.
"Let's go back." Mary stepped forward and took Morgan's arm.
Morgan had lost interest in Mary. He pushed her away and walked upstairs alone.
Mary was unwilling to concede. 'I've only been by Morgan's side for a few months, and now I'm about to fall out of favor?' she thought.
Outside the casino, when Ophelia opened the car door, she noticed something was wrong and said to Tate, "Let's take a cab back."
Tate asked, "What's wrong?"
"When we went in earlier, I put a bit of glue on the car door. Now the glue has been touched. The car might have been tampered with."
In a foreign country, Ophelia was very cautious. With Finnegan being framed, she couldn't afford to let her guard down.
She had only put a bit of glue on the door, which wouldn't attract attention. Even if someone accidentally touched it, they wouldn't suspect anything.
Tate was very surprised. "Ophelia, how did you think of putting glue there?"
Ophelia's meticulousness and caution were even more impressive than her own, despite her professional training.
"I've been through a lot, so I know," Ophelia said. "Finnegan's car was tampered with before. We should take a cab back."
"Okay."
The two hailed a cab. Tate flagged one down on the street, and they got in to return to the hotel.
As the cab passed through an alley, it suddenly had a flat tire.
The cab driver got out, looked at the ground, and cursed, "Who put nails on the ground?!"
There were many nails on the ground, clearly placed there intentionally.
This kind of thing was common in this area of France, which was very chaotic and had poor security.
The driver could only accept his bad luck and said to Ophelia, "I'm sorry, but the cab has a flat tire. You'll have to find another."
With the car unable to move, Ophelia had to get out. It was hard to find a cab here, and the hotel was still a long way off. They had to walk a bit further to find another cab.
They had only walked a little while when five men, all locals, emerged from the alley.
The five men didn't look like good people. They had tattoos on their arms. They approached Ophelia and Tate.
Ophelia and Tate backed away, but then three more men appeared behind them, surrounding them.
Ophelia thought they were Morgan's subordinates and was very scared.
Tate, always in a protective stance, shielded Ophelia and whispered, "Find a chance to run."
"We go together." Ophelia, despite her fear, couldn't leave her behind. She put her hand in her bag and discreetly sent a message to Atticus with her phone.
Ophelia asked, "Are you Morgan's subordinates?"
The men didn't answer. One of them, a man with curly yellow hair, took out a photo, compared it to Ophelia, and confirmed she was the person in the picture.
"It's her. Get her," he said. The curly-haired man spoke in French.
"Wait." Ophelia sensed something was off and asked in French, "Didn't Morgan send you? Who are you? Even if we die, let us know who wants to kill us."
The curly-haired man said, "Someone paid 30,000 dollars to buy your life."
These men were local thugs with no legitimate jobs. Even if they killed someone, in this poorly policed area, the authorities couldn't do anything to them.
What's more, Ophelia was a foreigner. If a foreigner dies in France, the police wouldn't care.
"Who?" Ophelia, hearing that someone wanted her dead, was both shocked and hopeful. "Let's go. Show me who wants me dead. I'll pay you three times the amount."
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