The banquet didn't end until ten o'clock that night.
Adrian Quincy had drunk a little too much water, so he made a trip to the restroom before leaving.
A few minutes later, as he came out of the restroom, Aiden Howkins appeared out of nowhere and handed him a phone.
"Young Master Quincy, someone emailed this photo to me."
Adrian Quincy's eyes narrowed, fixing on the girl in the photo. A transparent mesh failed to conceal her beauty, her fair skin dotted with rose petals. Her eyelids were lowered, and her peaceful, sleeping face looked sweet and lovely. But the red mark on her arm was like a thorn stabbing into his heart.
Cold. The air suddenly dropped in temperature, and the source of the bone-deep chill emanated from the man himself.
Aiden Howkins felt a chill go straight through him. He instinctively shrunk his neck and said, "Young Master Quincy, the sender was direct. They said the Young Madam is in room 1501 of this hotel. It's obviously a trap."
