Chapter 448 Truly No Longer in Love
Upon hearing that name, Quinton snorted with disdain.
This man wasn't even worthy of Willard's attention.
Just because he had a little power, he thought he could threaten people.
Quinton immediately delivered a karate chop.
The man released his grip in pain.
He positioned Anne behind him protectively.
On stage, the models began to exit.
Their confrontation was drawing attention.
The man's cursing could be heard, "Fuck, you dare hit me? I'll have you shot, believe it or not!"
Quinton couldn't be bothered to engage with such a fool and took out his phone to make a call.
The fashion show attendees gradually gathered around.
Some recognized the man, whispering:
"Isn't he from the Larson family?"
"I heard he's a relative of the Larson family's leader."
With his excellent hearing, Quinton caught this conversation and suddenly remembered the name mentioned earlier—a relative of the Larson family.
The man hadn't mentioned the Larson family, only his father.
At that moment, Quinton hadn't made the connection.
A relative?
How presumptuous.
"You just wait!" the man threatened. "I'll make you pay dearly for this!"
Quinton remained unfazed. After finishing his call, he turned to check on Anne. "Mrs. Larson, are you alright?"
Before Anne could answer, a mocking voice interjected, "You don't seem very capable, just a brute—and a poor one at that. How about this—name your price, and give this woman to me."
Quinton hadn't taken action because he felt this scum wasn't worth his effort.
Just an ant—too easy to crush.
Being Willard's relative wouldn't help him now.
"Who is this guy? How dare he offend someone from the Larson family?"
"Never seen him before. Must be new here, so he doesn't know this fashion show is actually funded by the Larson family."
"True, who would be foolish enough to offend the Larson family otherwise?"
Hearing this, Quinton's perpetually cool demeanor nearly cracked.
These people were truly audacious.
He was just waiting for his backup to arrive, doing nothing for now.
"Mrs. Larson, are you alright?" he asked again.
His gaze fell on her reddened wrist.
If Willard were here, he'd likely be furious.
"I'm fine," Anne finally replied.
Her feelings were quite complicated at the moment.
She hadn't expected to encounter such a situation after so many years.
After being rejected by Willard, she had traveled far to study.
She no longer wanted the Larson family's financial support and worked part-time jobs.
Fortunately, she had studied photography since childhood with her grandfather's support, giving her a means to make a living.
It was then that she discovered that in any industry, unless you reached the top, there were always unspoken rules.
Some people, taking advantage of their power, would make unwanted advances, completely disregarding consent.
They weren't afraid of being reported to the police.
But she refused to comply.
Offending someone powerful got her blacklisted throughout the industry.
Later, Ernest took her as a student, helping her gradually establish herself in the photography world.
She eventually became a renowned photographer through her own abilities.
But she still wasn't high enough.
Not high enough to surpass the Larson family.
Even abroad, she encountered Larson family members causing her trouble.
"The Larson family—not a decent one among them," she remarked.
Quinton couldn't respond to that.
But the man couldn't tolerate it. "Who are you to judge the Larson family?"
"Let me tell you, while I'm still in a good mood, come with me quietly. Otherwise, even if you beg later, I won't show you any mercy," he added.
Anne ignored him.
"What's going on?" The designer, having finished the runway show with the models, noticed the crowd gathering.
He finally pushed through to the center of the circle.
Upon seeing the man, his demeanor immediately changed to one of flattery. "Who has upset you?"
The man pointed at Anne. "Did you bring her here?"
The designer looked in the direction indicated.
Seeing Anne, he immediately understood.
This Larson family member had always liked beautiful women, which was why he invested in fashion shows.
Previously, for the sake of his investment, the designer had turned a blind eye.
But facing Anne, he had to think twice.
After all, Anne was now a famous photographer.
And she was Ernest's student.
Ernest's family might not compare to the Larson family, but they weren't people he could afford to offend either.
"She probably came to photograph my designs, drawn by their reputation."
Anne rolled her eyes.
She was about to speak when she was interrupted by a commanding voice, "What are you all gathered here for? Make way!"
The crowd parted as uniformed personnel approached.
Seeing them, the man immediately stepped forward. "Is this minor incident worth bothering you?"
The newcomers walked directly to Quinton, bowing respectfully. "Sorry to keep you waiting, sir."
The crowd was shocked.
The man's eyes nearly popped out in disbelief.
These were members of a special unit maintained by the Larson family—even he wouldn't dare offend them.
Yet this upstart who had interfered with his plans had them bowing so subserviently.
Quinton didn't waste words, explaining the situation concisely.
Then he asked, "You know what to do?"
The uniformed men immediately bowed deeply to Anne. "We apologize for the disturbance, Mrs. Larson."
Anne wanted nothing more than to avoid any association with the Larson family.
Especially, she didn't want more people knowing about her marriage to Willard.
But in the current situation, denial would be pointless.
She simply acknowledged with a brief response.
"So, it's a Larson family feud? This is interesting."
"Wonder who'll come out on top."
Someone confused asked, "If they're family, why compete?"
Another explained, "Of course they do. The Larson family is vast and complex, with plenty of internal conflicts. Besides, who could tolerate someone harassing their wife?"
In all her years with the Larson family, Anne had never fully understood the relationships among the extended branches.
Nia had told her she didn't need to understand these relatives—they were just hangers-on attracted by the Larson family's wealth and power.
As long as they didn't harm the Larson family's interests, they could be ignored.
She only needed to remember Uma's side of the family.
She knew less than these bystanders.
This was the first she'd heard of internal Larson family conflicts.
But she wasn't curious.
After consideration, out of politeness, she still said to Quinton, "I need to go upload my photos."
Quinton handed the aftermath to his men and escorted Anne through the crowd, staying close to her.
Just as he was debating whether to report every detail of today's events to Willard, his phone rang.
Seeing the caller ID, he thought, 'Speak of the devil.'
He answered, "Mr. Larson."
Quinton proactively gave a detailed account of what had just happened.
Then the call ended abruptly.
He guessed that within three hours, Willard would definitely arrive.
Sure enough, while escorting Anne to the airport, they encountered the hastily arrived Willard.
Anne, eager to leave after transmitting her photos, wasn't particularly surprised by Willard's appearance.
With Quinton following her, she had expected this.
"How are you? Are you hurt anywhere?" Willard immediately grabbed Anne's hand, examining her carefully.
Seeing the red marks on her wrist, his eyes turned cold.
Quinton quickly assured him: "It's all been handled. He won't get away with it."
But Willard's expression remained grim as he pulled Anne toward the VIP lounge.
Anne resisted, forcefully pulling away from him.
To her surprise, the grip she could never break before came loose easily.
She watched in shock as Willard collapsed, his abdomen stained red with blood.
Louis approached, efficiently treating Willard's wound and administering an injection.
Without a proper place to hang the IV bag, Louis held it himself, coldly telling her with one hand in his pocket, "He won't die."
Anne thought he didn't look like a doctor at that moment.
Holding the IV bag, he looked more like the Grim Reaper waiting to take Willard's soul.
"Don't tell me. I have nothing to do with him."
She turned to leave, heading for her gate.
Louis suddenly called after her, "Anne."
Anne's steps faltered momentarily, but she didn't stop, continuing to walk.
Louis said coldly, "Do you know he's sick?"
"A psychological condition," he added.
Anne never broke stride, heading straight for security.
Louis was surprised that his typically expressionless face showed a slight raise of his eyebrow.
So cold-hearted.
It seemed she truly no longer loved him.
Anne sat down by the window.
Quinton sat beside her.
She frowned slightly but said nothing.
She had planned to return to Maple Valley, but realized Elissa and Hope might not be convenient.
During her layover, she went to Silverpeak City.
With no animals to photograph, she captured landscapes instead.
The vast, endless desert was quite spectacular.
When Willard regained consciousness, it was already evening.
Seeing unfamiliar surroundings, he knew he hadn't returned home yet.
His first thought was of Anne.
A cold voice spoke beside him, "She's gone back."
Willard turned to see Louis sitting by his hospital bed.
Only his ice-cold eyes showed above the mask—completely devoid of emotion.
He looked away and called for someone to enter.
Hayes walked in.
"Mr. Larson."
Willard instructed, "Prepare to return home."
"You really have a death wish," Louis said, rising to his feet, a chill in his gaze. "I don't have time to indulge just one person's drama."
Once outside the Armstrong family hospital, it wouldn't matter where he died.
"If you have complications from chasing after her, don't call me to save you again," he added.
With that, he turned and left, his departing figure as cold and unfeeling as ever.
Hayes, after some hesitation, advised, "Mr. Larson, your wound cannot withstand reopening, and if there are lasting complications, it won't be good for you or Mrs. Larson in the future."
Willard insisted. "Find out where she is."
Hayes couldn't persuade him, and Louis, the only one who might have succeeded, had left.
He thought for a moment and decided to seek outside help.
Willard waited in the hospital room until his patience ran out.
Just as he was about to call for Hayes, his phone received a video.
"Willard, are you alright?"
In the video, Uma stood against a backdrop of endless desert.
Against the backdrop of yellow sands, a lone figure stood, lifting a camera to capture fleeting moments.
Uma continued, "Willard, don't worry, I've got everything under control. But I've heard that if you don't get that condition of yours treated properly, you might lose sexual function. If it really comes to that, don't blame me for suggesting a divorce. After all, Anne and I are like sisters—I just can't stand to see her unhappy."
Willard found this quite absurd but couldn't bring himself to close the video.
He muted it, just watching the serious yet playful figure in the frame.
Hayes stood at the hospital room door, relieved that Willard hadn't called for him.
It was good that Uma had a solution.
Silverpeak City, in the desert.
Uma took several photos of Anne.
Anne knew who they were for but didn't ask.
Uma took a sip of camel milk but couldn't quite handle it.
She passed it to Anne.
When she arrived, she had seen Anne drinking it happily, her cheeks puffed out, apparently enjoying it.
Uma suggested, "Take a break."
Anne did indeed like the camel milk here. After thanking Uma, she took it and sipped through the straw.
Uma asked directly, "You're actually worried about Willard, aren't you?"
Anne choked on the milk, recovered, and said, "No, I was just thinking that if I became a widow, I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of divorcing."
Uma had watched Anne go from being completely enamored with Willard to becoming emotionally dead inside.
When she had gotten Anne drunk, Anne had loudly proclaimed, "I don't love Willard anymore! I want to divorce Willard!"
Now she could calmly talk about widowhood.
It seemed she truly no longer loved him.
"Anne, I understand your desire for divorce, but give me some leeway. Our Larson family cannot be without a leader right now."
Anne didn't respond, finishing her camel milk before saying, "Uma, I want to walk alone for a while. I'm sorry."
Uma's sudden appearance before her could only mean one thing.
But after Ernest's near-confession and her failed attempt to divorce Willard, everything was chaotic.
She just wanted to be alone to clear her mind.
She didn't want any contact with people or matters related to Ernest or Willard.
Uma patted Anne's head. "Because of Willard, you're pushing even me away?"
Anne could never reject Uma or Nia, who had been kind to her—only Willard.
But current circumstances made her reluctant to travel with Uma.
"Uma, later, let's make plans to travel somewhere with better scenery, just the two of us, okay?"
Having already achieved her purpose in coming, Uma knew that further discussion would be pointless. Whether they chose to reconcile or part ways, both paths would be fraught with difficulty.
She finally said, "Alright, you carry on. I'll go find a friend."
"Uma, could you take Quinton with you too?"
"Of course."
Uma agreed readily.
Anne pursed her lips, then added, "Uma, when you go back and see him, please relay a message for me."
Uma felt this message would surely anger Willard.
But she still asked, "What message?"
Anne said, "Tell him, 'No matter how tightly he tries to hold onto sand, it will always slip through his fingers.'"
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