Chapter 5

Bryce was used to seeing Holly's calm, unruffled side, and it was the first time he had seen her so flustered. She looked like a spooked kitten.

This was new to him.

His lips curved, and he teased her, "You burrowed in here yourself. I couldn't even push you away."

Holly's ears reddened. "That's impossible."

His smile deepened. "I'll record it with my phone next time so that you'll have no excuses."

Holly was deeply embarrassed.

She hurriedly turned around and began putting on her shirt.

In her haste, she didn't even realize that she had buttoned it wrongly.

Bryce watched her slender figure bustle around as she put on her clothes.

The image of how she had looked while she was asleep rose up in his mind.

He didn't know what she had been dreaming about, but she had curled up into a tiny ball, trembling.

He had pulled her into his arms and patted her, but she had murmured with her eyes closed, "Abel…"

He couldn't remember how many times she had done it.

How much did she love him? She obviously couldn't forget him.

He had sent people to investigate Abel but to no avail.

The last time he had asked her, she had avoided the question.

Keeping quiet was an insult to him. Telling him would be even worse.

His smile disappeared completely, and he put on his watch. Then he said casually, "I might be back very late tonight. Help me make an excuse to Granny."

Holly's hands shook as she tried to fasten a button.

She knew he would be back late because he was going to the hospital to be with Samantha.

She wanted to cry, and she felt as if a thousand needles were piercing her heart.

After a long time, she finally said, "I'll talk to Granny about the divorce. It's been hard on you."

Bryce looked meaningfully at her. "It's been hard on you, too."

After breakfast, the driver of the old Gabelman residence sent Holly to Treasure Grove.

Holly was busy for the entire day.

When it was time to get off work, she got a call from the driver. "Mrs. Gabelman, my car was hit by a drunk driver, and I need to wait for the traffic police to come and sort things out. Can you take a cab home?"

"Alright."

Holly picked up her bag and walked out onto the antiques street.

She turned a corner, and two men rushed up behind her to block her path.

One of them was tall and skinny, and he said, "Are you Holly? Come with us, please."

Holly looked warily at the two of them.

They both appeared to be in their late 20s, and they had sunglasses on even though it was night. They were acting shiftily, and there was a strange, earthy smell that clung to them.

She panicked and asked, "Where to?"

The tall and skinny one said, "There's an old painting that we need your help to restore. Don't worry. We don't have any bad intentions, and we'll pay according to market price."

Holly relaxed slightly. "Send the painting to the shop where I work."

The other man, who was bald, said fiercely, "Stop talking nonsense with her. Let's just take her."

The moment Holly heard this, she turned to run.

She hadn't even managed to go a few steps before the bald one grabbed her arm and dragged her into a black car parked by the roadside.

The car started.

The tall and skinny one found her phone in her bag and said, "Call your family and tell them that you'll be out with your friends for a trip for a couple of days. Tell them not to worry."

Holly instinctively wanted to call Bryce, but then she remembered that he had to go to the hospital to be with Samantha. He had no time for Holly.

She decided to call Priscilla instead.

She told the tall and skinny one to find Priscilla's number.

After the call connected, Holly said, "Mom, I'm going on a trip with some friends for a few days. You have diabetes. Remember to eat your medicine on time…"

The tall and skinny one grabbed her phone and turned it off before she could finish.

He took out a black cloth and tied it around her eyes.

The car seemed to drive for a long, long time before it finally stopped.

Holly had been taken to an old, rundown building.

They climbed the stairs up to the third floor.

When they opened the door, it revealed a large red table in the middle with a safe on top.

The tall and skinny one went up and opened the safe. He took out a painting.

The painting was about three and a half feet long. It was very old, and it looked extremely damaged. There were many spots where the painting was completely illegible, and it would need to be filled in again.

Holly stared at the painting closely. The painting style was somber, beautiful, and rich.

There were jagged peaks in the painting that looked both majestic and intimidating. The mountain ranges undulated across the page, and there was lush greenery on the slopes.

Among the valleys, there were several tiny huts. A recluse sat in one of them, his arms around his knees as he leaned against his bed.

She recognized the painting. It was by Stanley Warner, one of the top four watercolor artists of the York era, and it was a painting of a retreat.

It was Stanley's most expensive painting and had once been sold for the exorbitant price of 400 million dollars.

If the painting could be restored, bidding would start at tens of millions of dollars, at least.

No wonder the two of them had brought her here, even if it was risky.

The fact that they had brought her here to restore it instead of sending it to the shop meant that they hadn't come by this painting legally. They had to have stolen it from somewhere.

The tall and skinny one asked, "Ms. Sinclair, how long will it take to restore this painting?"

"It's a big painting, and there's a lot of damage. A lot of the original parts are missing, so it will take at least half a month."

"Alright. Write down the equipment and materials that you need, and we'll get them prepared."

Holly picked up a pen and wrote a list for them.

The tall and skinny one took it and said, "We're going to get them. Rest well."

Holly nodded.

The two of them went out and locked the door from the outside with a click.

Holly looked around.

There was a bathroom, a bed, a table, and a chair. There was also food. They had obviously prepared this in advance.

There was a mountain range visible through the window, and the view was bleak and unfamiliar.

She could see a few isolated lights. They had to be very far from the city.

Her stomach rumbled with hunger.

Holly picked up a packet of crackers, opened it, and ate some. She drank a bit of water.

Then, she washed up and went to lie on the bed.

The surroundings were exceedingly quiet, but she couldn't fall asleep.

She had disappeared. Would Bryce be worried?

Probably not.

All he could see was Samantha. He was probably with her at the hospital right now.

When she thought of how anxious he had been when he heard that Samantha had committed suicide and how he'd rushed to the hospital at once, Holly felt her heart become as heavy as a stone. It hurt.

She tossed and turned, but she couldn't fall asleep even late into the night.

She got up and went to the bathroom.

Suddenly, she heard movement outside.

She put her ear to the crack in the door and heard the tall and skinny one yell, "Hey, bald guy, what are you doing?"

The bald one lowered his voice and said, "I can't sleep. I came to check if that woman was behaving herself. She's just a slip of a thing. Can she really restore our painting?

"This costs tens of millions, maybe even hundreds of millions. She can't ruin it. Our boss will blame us."

"The boss has sent people to ask around. Her grandfather is the Legendary Restorator, Winston Sinclair, and he taught her step by step from a young age. Rumors said that most of the paintings he restored in his old age were actually done by this woman."

"Then, I can relax," the bald guy said, sniggering. "This woman is so pretty. Don't you have any other thoughts toward her?"

The tall and skinny one reprimanded him, "Put those thoughts out of your head. Restoring the painting is our priority. Once the painting is sold and we get our share of the money, you can have all the women you want."

"Spending money on getting women will only get you women that have been bedded by so many other people. You can't compare that with her.

"Once that woman completes the task, can I take action? She's too damn good-looking. She's fair and young, and she has those big eyes. It's tempting me so much."

The tall and skinny one was silent for a moment before he said, "Fine. But before the painting is restored, you must not touch her."

"Alright."

Holly was revolted.

They were just thugs!

Once she heard the two of them leave, she pulled on the doorknob hard.

The door was locked and could not be opened, and there was no equipment that she could use to pry the lock open.

She walked over to the window again and looked down. They were on the third floor, and there was just concrete below her. It wouldn't be realistic to jump out of the window to escape.

Besides, there was a huge dog in the yard. The moment she ran, the dog would bark.

She could only hope that help would come.

On the way here, when the tall and skinny one had told her to call her mother, she had instructed Priscilla to take her medicine. It was a hint that she was in danger because Priscilla didn't have diabetes.

Holly wondered if Priscilla would realize.

The next day, Holly began cleaning the painting and assessing the damage.

She worked busily for three days.

As she saw the day of complete restoration approaching, she began to feel nervous.

She couldn't relax at night, and there were several times when she heard the bald one pacing up and down outside her door.

That night, she had just felt some sleepiness come over her when she suddenly heard barking outside and anxious footsteps.

Holly scrambled up at once and began putting her clothes on.

The door creaked open, and the tall and skinny one rushed in and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her out while the bald one went to get the painting.

They had just reached the door when a bunch of people rushed up the staircase.

The man in the lead was dressed in black. He was tall and handsome, with deep-set eyes. It was Bryce.

Behind him came a bunch of police in full gear.

Holly felt surprise wash over her like a tsunami.

She couldn't believe her own eyes.

She stared at the man and asked, her voice trembling, "Bryce, is it really you?"

"It's me." Bryce strode up to her, but the tall and skinny guy pulled her toward the window.

Holly hadn't had time to react when suddenly, a knife was pressed against her throat.

The tall and skinny one was holding a knife to her throat as he yelled at the police, "Put your guns down! Get back! Otherwise, I'll stab her to death!"

The blade cut into her skin, and it hurt so much that Holly felt a ringing in her ears. Her vision wavered.

Bryce's fists clenched, and he stared at her, his eyes reddening. He suppressed his rage and yelled, "Put the guns down! Get out!"

The police exchanged looks with him, and they all bent down and put their guns on the ground. Then, they stepped backward.

The bald one kicked the guns into a corner.

The tall and skinny one pushed Holly onto the windowsill. "Jump!"

Holly held on tightly to the window frame. She didn't dare to jump. If she jumped from the third floor, she would be crippled even if she survived the fall!

"Jump! You won't die!" The tall and skinny one lost his patience. He grabbed her arm and was about to jump when suddenly, a loud gunshot rang out, and a scream rang in the night sky.