The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

Chapter 2359NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

For some people, no matter how many times they were to live their life again or how much their appearance changes, they could never shed their innate nature.

Clarice thought, 'He is just as infuriating as that bitch, Bella.'

"Jace is right. Only the Ace guests hold the highest prestige." Grant narrowed his eyes slightly, his tone casual. "I may not be one, but I am quite familiar with one of the guests with the Ace of Spades here."

As he spoke, the servant led them to an imposing, massive, and ornate door.

With a deep rumble, the door swung open, revealing a world shrouded in mist, filled with decadent indulgence. It was a stark contrast to the solemn silence outside. The abrupt divide was almost blinding.

From the second floor onward, private boxes lined the space, each shrouded in dim light. The figures within were impossible to make out, distant shadows that resembled eerie clay dolls perched in their seats.

However, on the stage in front of them, a scene unfolded that left Clarice on the verge of screaming in horror. Even Jace, a man with nerves of steel, visibly tensed, his pupils contracting in shock.

Several naked young women were confined within glass cages, suspended high above the ground. Each wore a metal collar around their neck, moving about in varying states of distress-some crawled, some trembled, while others cowered in the corners.

It was devoid of dignity or humanity. These women were reduced to something less than animals.

It was a grotesque embodiment of money reigning supreme.

"This... Is this human trafficking?!" Clarice's eyes were wide with disbelief.

Though she had committed her share of unsavory deeds, this display of depravity shattered what little remained of her moral compass, leaving her reeling.

"It's a transaction," Grant replied lazily, a hint of irritation in his voice. Still, he explained, "But they're not selling people."

Confused, Clarice pressed further, her voice trembling. "Then... What are they selling?"

Grant's expression darkened. "Their bodies. Skin alone is worthless. But their blood, their organs? Those are priceless commodities. Take their blood, for example."

Clarice froze, her face draining of color. She had spent enough time at the RC. Institute to immediately grasp the underlying implication. Her scalp tingled as an icy dread seeped into her bones.

In recent years, rumors circulated that certain elite families in Meridan sought immortality and eternal youth by draining young women of their blood. The extracted blood or its derivatives were then transfused or consumed, prolonging the lives of the rich at unimaginable costs.

The sheer malevolence of it all was beyond comprehension, horrifying in its audacity.

Jace's brows furrowed deeply. His heart ached at the sight of the despairing girls onstage, and an uncomfortable tightness gripped his chest. He instinctively wanted to leave, to turn his back on this twisted spectacle.

But duty bound him to stay. As Grant's bodyguard, Jace could not take a single step away from his charge.

The servant continued to lead them up to a private box, stopping at the entrance to a heavy velvet curtain.

"Mr. Salvador, please." The servant pulled the curtain aside, and Grant entered without hesitation, his face devoid of expression.

In the split second before the curtain fell back into place, both Clarice and Jace caught a glimpse of the man inside. A middle-aged man sat there, his deep-set eyes and aquiline nose giving him a predatory air. Dressed in an exquisitely tailored crimson velvet suit, his slicked-back hair gleamed under the low light.

Though he appeared to be in his fifties, the careful grooming shaved a decade off his appearance, making him seem no older than forty.

"Uncle," Grant greeted with a polite smile, inclining his head slightly in a display of respect befitting a junior to his elder.

The man bared his teeth in response, a grin too perfect to be genuine, the white gleam of his teeth as chilling as exposed bone.

"Ah, my nephew, long time no see. You've gotten much healthier, haven't you?"

Behind the curtain, Clarice's breath hitched in alarm. She recognized him immediately.

That was Lucas Fowler, the infamous murderer whose crimes once shocked the nation. He was also Grant's maternal uncle.

Clarice thought, 'But wasn't Lucas imprisoned for life? How could he possibly be here?!'