?Chapter 711:


    Rosie and Maxley looked deeply offended. Maxley, struggling to maintain hisposure, snapped back in the localnguage, “That’s none of your business! All I want to know is whether you two had anything to do with what happened at that intersection. That night, we were drunk,pletely out of it, and thest person we saw was you, Mr. Mitchell.”


    Maxley’s fury boiled over. “I know you’re behind this,” he spat. Ethan remained calm. He had indeed orchestrated the situation, but only because Maxley had plotted against him and Brenna first. Maxley and Rosie had simply fallen into his carefullyid trap, outmaneuvered. Did Maxley think finding the culprit would clear his name? How absurd. Had he not considered the consequences when hemitted those misdeeds?


    From outside came stifled groans and faint sobs, as if someone’s cries had been silenced before they could fully escape.


    Maxley didn’t know what had happened, but with Ethan’s group lingering inside and none of his security team rushing to his aid, he sensed something was wrong. Reaching the door, he froze at the sight before him.


    One of Ethan’s men was driving a de into the thigh of Maxley’s chief guard. Blood pooled in the corridor, the air thick with its metallic tang.


    The remaining ten guardsy scattered across the floor, some clutching their torsos, others gripping their heads, all battered into immobility, incapable ofing to Maxley’s rescue.


    “Stop it! What the hell is going on?” Maxley snapped at Neville.


    Neville barely spared him a nce before pulling the knife out and plunging it again into the guard’s thigh. “Talk!” he demanded.


    The guard writhed in agony, his face ashen, his body shaking. To him, Neville was nothing short of a devil.


    His pleading eyes begged for mercy as he said, “Prince Maxley and his wife haven’t left the house in days. I swear, I’m telling the truth.”


    Maxley lunged to pull Neville away, but Ethan’s other guards swiftly blocked him. These men in dark suits were ruthless; they didn’t care about Maxley’s status.


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    Fuming, Maxley stormed back into the room and confronted Ethan with indignation. “Mr. Mitchell, I’m the Prince of Plieca and a respected guest of Vand. How dare you interrogate my staff like that? You’re sparking an international conflict. I’ll have Vand’s foreign ministry step in.”


    “Oh really?” Ethan replied coolly. “Maxley, you’ve assaulted over a dozen women in Vand, some underage. Do you want to exin that to the foreign ministry?”


    Ethan gave him a cold nce before turning to leave.


    Rosie stepped into Ethan’s path. She knew his temperament well—if he believed someone was guilty, he would make sure they paid the price. Like when she had woken up naked at a crossroads the previous morning—that was Ethan’s retribution.


    “Ethan, it really wasn’t us. I wouldn’t dare harm you; I’m telling you the truth,” she pleaded.


    Ethan’s sharp gaze pinned her. “You wouldn’t dare harm me? Who tried to kill me at that hotel in Plieca, or on that ship? Rosie, don’t forget what you’ve done. You reap what you sow.”


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