Chapter 213 Martin Receives Anonymous Photos and Videos
Half an hour later, a message from a stranger popped up on Martin's phone. It was a short video clip. Martin, thinking nothing of it, clicked on the video. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
The intermingling sounds of a man's heavy breathing, and a woman's moans echoed in the cramped carriage. Martin's handsome face darkened suddenly; his eyes narrowed as he watched the video unblinkingly.
The video zoomed in. The faces of the two culprits became clearly visible. As he recognized their features, a chilling sense of rage and jealousy burst forth from Martin, twisting his expression in fury. It was the profiles of Hunter and Patricia.
Hunter pressed Patricia beneath him, partially concealed by the blankets with their heads exposed; large beads of sweat rolled down Hunter's facial contours, dripping onto Patricia's face.
The ancient iron bed creaked and groaned under their intense movements. Martin's face was filled with rage. The temperature around them instantly plummeted to freezing point.
The driver, hearing the voice from Martin's phone and sensing his fury, didn't dare to breathe too loudly, fearing the slightest misstep might further enrage Martin.
Martin gripped his phone so tightly it looked as if he wanted to crush it, his knuckles turning white from the strain. The carriage was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Martin's heavy breathing echoed again and again in the confined space.
Then, the phone pinged once more. Three more photos of Patricia and Hunter in an intimate embrace were sent. Martin's simmering anger could no longer be contained, and it erupted completely.
"Turn around, let's go back." The driver didn't dare to ask questions and looked for a safe place to turn around.
After arriving back in Los Angeles, without any hesitation, Martin immediately boarded a private jet back to Ivara City.
Charles, tracking from the location system that he had returned to Ivara City, assumed he had successfully brought Patricia back and hurried to Ellenstein Villa District. However, he was informed by the butler, Eric, that only Martin had returned.
"What happened?"
Charles, puzzled, came to Martin’s bedroom door and knocked. Inside, it was silent, no response. Assuming Martin wasn't there, Charles prepared to enter, but found the room locked from the inside.
Growing more suspicious, Charles knocked again: "Daddy, it's me, Charles. Open the door, I need to speak with you."
Still, silence greeted him, a situation he had never encountered before. Ever since acknowledging each other as family, his father had been open to him, doing his utmost to make up for past shortcomings.
This was the first time he had ignored him like this. Fearing something had happened to Martin, Charles got Eric to bring a spare key. As soon as he pushed open the door, a strong scent of alcohol assaulted his senses, almost making him vomit.
He fumbled for the switch, and with a 'click', the dark room lit up as bright as day. The master of the bedroom, Martin, sat quietly in the corner of the sofa, knees up, hands supporting his forehead, like a sculpted figure.
Several wine bottles lay strewn haphazardly at his feet. Having never seen him this way, Charles knew that the situation was far more serious than he had imagined.
He walked over slowly, cupping Martin's face with both hands, lifting his head with concern and said, "Daddy, what happened? Did something happen to mommy?"
He couldn't think of any other reason. Mentioning Patricia filled Martin's heart with bitterness. His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he wanted to say something but in the end, he didn't. His eyes were red and swollen with pain.
The usually strong-willed man, showed his vulnerable and wounded side, for the first time. Charles became even more certain of his guess and held him tight for comfort.
"Don't worry, my mom is very lucky, nothing bad will happen to her."
Martin gave a hollow laugh, as if it came from deep within his throat, ethereal and somehow unreal. He was acting so out of the ordinary that Charles couldn’t help but press on.
"Daddy, what exactly happened?" He had a strong feeling that this had everything to do with mommy.
Martin leaned against the small chest of Charles, his heart aching sharply, anger turning into threads, densely woven around his heart, leaving him bleeding and breathing painful breaths.
After a while, Martin regained his composure, gently pushing Charles away, his voice hoarse.
"Your mommy is fine; you don't have to worry. She should be back soon."
Charles asked again, "Then why didn’t she come back with you?"
Pain swirled in Martin’s deep gaze, soon becoming obscured and enigmatic. "She's back, but her heart isn't. She's with Hunter now, and very happy."
His last few words seemed to cause him great pain. God knows how much strength he mustered, to utter those words. Everything was left unsaid. Charles guessed everything in an instant.
Mommy must have confirmed a romantic relationship with Hunter, and Daddy couldn't handle the blow, so he came back alone. Asking more would be like rubbing salt into Daddy's wounds.
"Daddy, it's getting late, you should rest! I won't go out tonight, I’ll stay here with you."
Martin shook his head and remained seated. Charles held his face, staring at him intently, word by word he spoke into his face.
"Daddy, it's just that you and mommy weren’t meant to be. Even though you don't have mommy, you still have me, Randy, and Fannie. We will always be with you."
Seeing his sincere eyes, Martin, no matter how sad, didn't want to worry him, and leaned in to give him a strong kiss, on the forehead.
"You're right, I still have you guys." After speaking, he mustered some energy to get up and headed to the bathroom.
Charles immediately followed, playfully bumping him with his hip, "The two of us haven't bathed together yet. I want to bathe with you today and also do a little comparison."
Martin, with a mischievous question, "Compare what? Size? You think you're bigger than me?"
Charles shot him a look. "Dad, you're so rude."
Martin joked on purpose. "I was talking about age, what did you think I meant?"
For the first time, the usually eloquent Charles was at a loss for words. Martin's laughter grew even more wicked. "Between the two of us, who's really the rude one?"
Charles quickly corrected himself, "I was also talking about age..."
Martin openly mocked without mercy. "Do you really think I'd believe that? So rude at such a young age, what are you going to be like when you grow up..."
Their voices trailed off, and the silhouettes of the two, one tall and one small, disappeared at the bathroom door.
...
Inside the wine cellar, it was pitch dark. Hunter stood by the bed, quietly watching Patricia, who was deep in sleep, and dialed his assistant Peter's number.
"How did you deal with those idiots from the Miller family?" His voice was low and hoarse, like venom hiding in the shadows.
"Rest assured, everything is going according to plan. It won't be long before we can wrap this up. Even if we can't eliminate them completely, we will severely weaken them, enough to keep them quiet for a good while."
"Good! Keep me updated."
After ending the call, Hunter turned off his phone and hid it in a secret compartment in the wardrobe. He walked slowly to the bed, his long fingers gently caressing Patricia's pale face, as his gaze grew deeper, like a venomous snake lurking in darkness, cold and terrifying.
"I must have you at all costs..."
The next day, Patricia slowly opened her eyes, her temples throbbing intensely as if she were suffering a hangover.
What happened? Did she catch a cold from sleeping on the ground? Why did her head hurt so much?
Her bones felt as if they had been taken apart and reassembled, so achingly as though they were about to fall apart.
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