Chapter 557 Charlotte's Tragic Fate
Goosebumps covered Patricia's body, and she rubbed her arms before giving James, who was continually radiating an icy presence, a sidelong glance.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
She could feel his anger, but she didn't understand why he was so angry.
James just shook his head.
The man was terrified, with the persistent feeling that if he didn't give the right answers, he might be choked to death on the spot by the man before him.
He licked his dry lips and continued, "At first, she was a real pain, crying and making a fuss. Kicking, biting—she was a wild one. But a good beating seemed to shut her up for a while. As her craziness got worse, had to tie her down on the bed. Sometimes, when things were slow, I thought about sending her out to beg or steal something worth a damn. But she was useless, always coming back with nothing. Today, she came back empty-handed again. I lost it, couldn't hold back; I tied her to the beam to teach her a lesson."
He glanced furtively at James and Patricia. "That's it, I swear! I spilled my guts. Can't you cut me loose now? I mean, I forked over the cash, and I ain't even made a dime back yet!"
James, furious, stood up and punched him in the face.
The man screamed miserably as he tumbled to the ground, chair and all, unable to get up before James was on top of him, throwing punches at his face with all his might.
Patricia was frightened by his ferocity, staring blankly, too scared to reach out and pull him away. The cops on the scene were shocked, too, not daring to intervene.
The man, already injured, was overwhelmed by James's beating and lost consciousness.
Finally, James ended the assault and slowly stood up, gasping and coughing from overexertion.
Patricia rushed over to rub his back. "Why are you so angry?"
The flame of hope she thought had died inside her flickered back to life.
The coughing subsided. James explained, "Scum who profit off exploiting women deserve a beating each time they're encountered."
Patricia was puzzled. "Is that really the only reason?"
Or was it something else?
James didn't elaborate but looked at the chief. "Can you find a way to catch Big Joe?"
"He has some influence around here, protectors behind him," the chief said. "It won't be easy to make a move on him, and honestly, I would advise against crossing him. The two of you are outnumbered and outmatched."
Sensing James's intent, Patricia asked quickly, "What do you want with Big Joe?"
James stayed silent, his gaze fixed on her.
"Charlotte's already lost her mind," she said urgently. "Whatever the reason is, it can't change what has happened. Sure, we can only spend some of our time on her when we're here to talk business. We'll take her to the hospital tomorrow to see if there's a chance her condition can be treated. As for the rest, we'll decide after we hear what the doctor says."
"Don't you want to figure out whether she's the one who killed Martin?" James asked.
"Of course I do!" Patricia shouted. "I'm dying to know! That's exactly why we need to get her to the hospital. She's the key to the truth. I need to get her well to get the answers I want."
James studied her eyes for a moment before nodding.
After thanking the chief, Patricia and James headed back to the hotel.
On the way, Patricia couldn't shake the feeling that James's reaction earlier had been overblown. She glanced at him, hoping to detect a hint of something amiss in his demeanor.
His bangs fell across his forehead, covering half his eyes, while his oversized mask hid most of his face, revealing nothing.
Noticing her gaze, James didn't look back but asked, "What are you looking at?"
"You kind of overreacted," Patricia said, frowning. "You looked like you wanted to murder that guy when you were hitting him. Why? Because of Charlotte?"
James's slender fingers twitched, regretting the slip up. He should have been able to contain it, yet he hadn't. He didn't hit the man out of a sense of hurt for Charlotte but purely because the man had insulted his sister. As a Langley, if she deserved punishment or death, it should be by his hand—not being trafficked and prostituted to men. It was an insult to him and the entire Langley family.
"My sympathy is natural. Charlotte is from Country Z, just like us. Her defamation is our defamation," he said, grasping at the most justifiable reason.
Patricia wasn't buying it. "I had no idea you were so compassionate."
"I've always been this way," James said. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have agreed to come and help you when Alan asked."
Cornered, Patricia wisely chose to keep quiet.
The ordeal had stretched into the early hours of the morning. Exhausted and sleepy, Patricia decided to grab her pajamas and head to the bathroom for a shower. The presidential suite's bathroom was situated between the bedroom and the kitchen.
Standing at the doorway with her pajamas in hand, Patricia's eyes locked onto James, out on the balcony talking to Alan on the phone. Her feet seemed rooted to the spot as she stared blankly at his figure, unaware of the tears welling up in her eyes.
James's silhouette bore a striking resemblance to Martin's. Apart from being a bit thinner, his outline, body shape, and height were identical to Martin's. Seeing him was like seeing Martin himself. Memories of happier times flooded her mind like a rising tide.
She missed Martin so dearly, longing to see him and hear his voice, and aching to hold him and tell him how much she missed him.
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