Chapter 786 Confrontation
That night, Quentin's men searched almost the entire city.
But even so, there was no trace of Grace.
The bar where Grace and Jessica were staying had been searched three times, but they were sitting in the darkest corner, hugging each other and crying so sadly that they were never noticed.
Finally, it was when Jessica saw that it was getting late and decided to call that she realized her phone had been ringing non-stop from Gabriel.
Jessica quickly called back.
When Gabriel answered, he was extremely tense, and he was straight to the point.
"Where are you? Send me the address right now, I'll come get you."
"Okay."
After Jessica sent the address, Grace suddenly looked up with a bit of clarity and asked, "Jessica, did you call Gabriel?"
"Yes!"
As soon as Grace heard this, she immediately stood up, "No, I have to go. If Gabriel knows, that means Quentin will know soon too. I don't want to see Quentin right now."
Jessica couldn't let her go and grabbed her, "Grace, if you don't want to face Quentin, you can come back with me. I'll stay with you tonight."
"You're drunk, it's late, I can't let you go back alone."
Besides, she had been staying at Quentin's place recently, and she had nowhere else to go except a hotel.
"In any case, I won't let you leave alone," Jessica said firmly.
Grace rubbed her aching head. "So if I find a friend to pick me up, will that be okay?"
"Yes, but it has to be a reliable friend."
Grace got a charger from the waiter, plugged in her phone, and called Mark with an experimental mindset.
"Hello, is this Mark?" Grace's voice was already quite drunk.
Mark immediately realized it and asked quickly, "Grace, is that really you? Where are you?"
"It's me! Jessica said I'm drunk, I wanted to ask if you could take me in for the night?"
"Give me the address, I'll come right away."
Grace handed the phone to Jessica, and Jessica quickly gave the address.
Mark arrived quickly, in just over ten minutes.
By the time Mark arrived, Grace was almost unconscious, slumped over the table with disheveled hair, and Jessica wasn't much better off.
Mark carried Grace to the car, leaving a few people behind to protect Jessica.
So, when Gabriel arrived with Quentin, the bar was empty except for Jessica, with no sign of Grace.
They checked the surveillance and found out that Mark had taken Grace away, which made Quentin so angry that he kicked over the tables and chairs.
Quentin was filled with rage, and with a murderous intent, he drove straight to Mark's villa.
Arriving at the door, he didn't hesitate and had his men break it down.
As if expecting him, Mark had changed into casual clothes and was sitting in the living room, waiting with interest.
Mark didn't care at all about the broken door.
"Mr. Taft, you're faster than I expected."
Mark sat leisurely on the sofa, legs crossed, completely unflustered.
"I don't want to waste words with you. Where's Grace?"
Quentin's sharp eyes scanned coldly, devoid of any warmth.
Mark snorted and ignored him.
Quentin strided forward.
Just as he was about to step onto the stairs, Mark suddenly blocked his way.
His voice was equally sharp and cold.
"Quentin, don't forget, this is my home. You can't just come and go as you please. What do you take my place for?"
Quentin sneered, "I don't care about this dump. Move, or I'll throw you out too."
Mark looked at him disdainfully, "Big words, Mr. Taft!"
"You think I won't?"
"That depends on whether you have the strength."
"If you're not afraid of death, don't blame me for being ruthless!" Quentin turned and shouted, "Willie!"
"Yes, Mr. Taft, everything is ready, just give the order!"
Quentin looked at Mark, his eyes growing colder, "For Kenneth's sake, I'll give you one last chance."
Mark smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Taft, but I don't need it."
"Willie, level this place. I'm taking her home!"
At the command, Quentin's demeanor turned terrifyingly cold.
Mark clapped his hands lightly, and instantly, a group of black-clad bodyguards poured in.
Soon, the large living room was filled with people, a prelude to a storm.
The atmosphere was tense, and a fight was imminent.
Everyone's face was cold, without a trace of warmth.
"Quentin, you don't think I'm that kid who could never stand up to you, do you?"
"I said, for Grace, I'm willing to do anything."
"Unless Grace willingly goes with you, no one can force her, not even you, Quentin."
Quentin's fists clenched, veins bulging on his forehead as his anger exploded; he had underestimated Mark.
"In that case, I have nothing more to say."
With that, Quentin threw a punch at Mark's face without hesitation.
Mark dodged swiftly.
The fight between the two groups began, and soon the villa was filled with cries of pain and anguish.
But no one stopped.
Mark guarded the stairs tightly, not letting Quentin take a step.
Both were injured, their faces bruised.
The situation was at a stalemate, neither side gaining the upper hand, and the hall was in chaos.
However, ten minutes later, despite having more men, Quentin's side was at a disadvantage.
Quentin's eyes locked on Mark, "Are you sure you want to continue? Aren't you afraid your men will all die?"
"Mark, if I'm not mistaken, this is probably all your strength, but do you know how many more men I have, how much more capital I have? If you don't surrender, I don't mind showing you."
Mark wiped the blood from his mouth and sneered, "Let them go, and I'll fight you one-on-one."
"I said, unless you step over my dead body, don't think about taking Grace!"
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