Observing Melissa's innocent countenance, Jemma sneered, "If you follow him, you'll be even more wretched than you are here."

Why would a man accustomed to resting beside lifeless bodies every day be swayed by an inconsequential, impoverished extra?

Melissa was forcibly escorted away by the security personnel.

Jemma stared at Jarrod's handsome visage. He was undeniably attractive, but the unsettling rumors surrounding him sent shivers down her spine. Shaking her head, she hastily walked away as if a ghost was chasing after her.

It was the late hours of the night when Jarrod emerged from the club.

His steps were unsteady, and he swayed, navigating the world in a daze.

Leaning against his car, Jarrod ignited a cigarette and dialed Alec's number. “Come get me." He needed to return home and be with Nicole.

After ending the call, he glanced up at the sky. The moon hung round and luminous, much Like the night when Nicole had departed.

Then, out of nowhere, something happened.

A slender silhouette appeared and slipped into the blue luxury car parked by the entrance.

Jarrod's tall, statuesque frame tensed, and the cigarette between his lips plummeted. That face. That face!

Jarrod lunged forward like a cheetah in the obscurity of the night.

The blue luxury car roared to life and sped away, with Jarrod in hot pursuit.

Jarrod was far from sober. If he were, he might have noticed that the car wasn't racing away, almost as if it were teasing him.

Every time hope seemed within reach, the car would accelerate away.

Finally, Jarrod's strength ebbed, and he crumpled to the ground, his knees bearing the brunt.

Struggling to place his hand on the pavement, he attempted to rise, but the alcohol-induced deluge of hallucinations clouded his mind with countless phantoms.

The blue car came to a halt.

When the door swung open, a pair of long, slender legs descended, clad in black high heels, and approached Jarrod.

The black heels paused before Jarrod.