<b>Chapter </b><b>123 </b>
York squeezed his eyes shut on instinct, but that only made him <b>more </b><b>keenly </b><b>aware </b>of Alessia’s arms tightening around him–almost as if she were saying, <b>I </b><b>won’t </b><b>let </b>them take you.
Her embrace soothed something deep inside him. When he finally opened <b>his </b>eyes<b>, </b>he saw Alessia’s jaw set hard, her gaze locked on the man in ck. There was <b>a </b>fierce, unyielding determination in her face, as if she’d fight to the bitter end.
“Hey! What’s going on here?” A security guard came running down the slope, baton in hand.
“Damn it,” the man in ck muttered through clenched teeth. He had no choice but to leave. The car’s engine revved, and the other two men scrambled in after him, speeding off in a rush.
“Are you two alright?” The guard jogged over, concern etched on his face.
“Please call the police,” Alessia said, loosening her grip on York as she slowly stood. Hér expression had already slipped back to its usual calm, and when she nced at her arm–now bloody and torn–she only frowned slightly, as if it were a minor inconvenience.
“Alessia… are you okay?” York’s vision blurred as he looked up at her, the tears he’d been fighting finally spilling over.
He wiped at his face, but the tears just kepting. His hands were covered in tiny cuts, his hair a wild mess with a few leaves still tangled in it. At some point, his shirt had been torn, and his face was streaked with dirt and tears–a sorry sight, really, like a lost child.
Alessia had half a mind to scold him, but in the end, she just plucked the leaves from his hair and gave his head a gentle rub.
“Is this your phone?” The guard bent to pick up a phone ringing nearby.
“Yes, thank you.” Alessia took it from him and silenced the ring siren.
“Which family are you with?”
“The Tate family.”
“We’ve already called the police. But you look pretty hurt–I should call an ambnce.”
“No need. Our family doctor can get here faster,” Alessia replied, pulling a tracksuit
11:54
<b>from </b><b>her </b><b>backpack </b><b>and</b>, <b>with </b><b>the </b><b>guard’s </b><b>help</b><b>, </b><b>wrapping </b><b>it </b><b>around </b><b>her </b><b>bleeding </b>armi
The <b>guard </b>nodded, understanding–rich families always <b>had </b><b>their </b><b>own </b><b>private </b>doctors. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of admiration for Alessia<b>, </b><b>who </b><b>stayed </b><b>so </bposed despite her obvious pain.
“Come on, let’s get you in the car. I’ll drive you home. I’ll need to get <b>your </b><b>statements </bter,” he said.
Alessia didn’t protest. She took York’s hand and led him to the car. The whole ride back, York was silent, clinging tight to her hand.
“Mr. Tate? Yes, it’s the security guard… Your younger son almost got grabbed by some traffickers, but–don’t worry, he’s safe. Your daughter was there–she was very brave. She got hurt, but… Ah, I see. Of course, I’ll speak with your housekeeper instead,” the guard said into his phone, then hung up, looking awkward.
His gaze drifted to the siblings. Their own father, too busy with business to even speak to them after such a close call. The guard thought of his own three–year–old daughter, and his heart ached for these two.
“Mr. Tate’s tied up at work. He said to coordinate with
your butler.”
“Please have a seat. Butler Dawson should be here any minute,” Alessia said, as if she’d grown used to this routine. She made herselffortable on the sofa. Mae, the housekeeper, bustled over, her face full of worry. She fetched the first aid kit and called the family doctor at once.
“Oh dear… Oh my goodness…” Mae gásped at the sight of Alessia’s wound, sucking in a sharp breath, hands trembling as she tried to figure out what to do.
Alessia, by contrast, was calm–almost detached, as if the injury belonged to someone else. She coolly instructed Mae on how to disinfect and dress the wound. Soon, Butler Dawson arrived with two police officers. They listened as Alessia gave her statementposed and thorough, even recalling the license te and describing two of the men in detail.
“You did well, but that was reckless. If the guard hadn’t shown up, both of you could’ve been taken,” Dawson admonished gently.
“Say thank you to the police officers and the security guard,” Alessia told York, giving his head another reassuring pat. He was still shaken, but obediently did as he was told.