His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 300: Rescue

"Let's see how long someone as refined as you can hold out," Arden growled, gripping Iris by the hair. He jerked his head toward one of his men. "Get me a syringe."

A blindfold covered Iris' eyes, plunging her into darkness.

The fear—the kind she'd fought for years—came flooding back.

She knew every substance on the streets. She'd made it her business to study them.

Once hooked, there was no coming back, not unless you were dead.

Hope drained out of her completely.

Tears seeped through the cloth, dampening her cheeks.

Her consciousness began to waver.

Part of her wished she could just die now and spare herself what was coming.

Arden took the loaded syringe and leaned close. "Last chance, Iris. Fix the more than ten tons of product sitting in my warehouse. Do this, and you'll be set—money, protection, everything."

Drowsily, Iris shook her head. Her voice was barely a whisper but clear. "I'd rather die than be part of this." Then her body went limp.

"You'd refuse a glass only to drink the whole bottle..." Arden muttered through clenched teeth, his chest tight with anger. He positioned the needle against the vein in her neck—

"Boss," one of his men interrupted nervously. "Someone's here to see you."

"Not now."

"It's... the head of Veritas Group."

Arden's expression hardened. He glanced at Iris, unconscious on the floor, and thrust the syringe back at his man before standing up. "Julian Everhart? You're sure?"

"Yeah. Julian Everhart—the billionaire who runs Veritas. Who doesn't know him?"

Arden snorted. "He deals in clean business, I handle the dirty kind. Our paths don't cross. What's he doing here?"

The thug nodded toward Iris. "You think it's about her?"

Arden's face turned grim. He stared coldly at Iris and spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "She knows too much. She either works for me or she dies. She's not leaving this room."

"So what do we tell Everhart?"

"Send him away," Arden said harshly. "Tell him I'm not available."

Before the words fully left his mouth—

"Bang!"

The door burst open.

A deep, authoritative voice filled the space. "You don't get to decide whether I'm received or not."

Arden instinctively drew his pistol, aiming it at Julian as he walked in.

Julian was dressed in a tailored black suit, elegant and composed, yet radiating a frosty, unapproachable authority. Behind him filed more than a dozen suit-clad bodyguards—broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, moving with the disciplined precision of former special operatives.

Julian didn't flinch at the sight of the gun.

But when his eyes landed on Iris, curled in the corner, bruised and bloodied, his gaze turned dangerously dark. His jaw tightened, and his hands slowly balled into fists.

"Mr. Solis," Julian began, his voice controlled but simmering with rage. "You've hidden your operation well. It took me two full days to track this place down in the wholesale market."

Arden forced a cold laugh. "Mr. Everhart. To what do I owe the pleasure? I'm afraid I'm busy today. Take your men and leave. Unless you want to see how trigger-happy I can get."

Calmly, Julian gestured toward one of his bodyguards.

Arden followed the motion—the man was recording everything on his phone.

Immediately, Arden lowered the gun, though his twisted smile remained. "You're a legitimate businessman, Mr. Everhart. We fruit wholesalers have nothing to do with your world. Why bring an army into my office?"

Julian's eyes never left Iris. "My daughter hasn't stopped crying for her mother. I didn't expect to find her here, injured on your floor."

He started toward Iris.

Arden shot a look to one of his enforcers, who stepped forward, blocking Julian's path. The man's hand drifted toward his lower back—where a weapon was tucked.

None of Julian's guards appeared to be armed. In here, the advantage was Arden's.

Even local PD units didn't rush into situations like this lightly.

"The person you're looking for isn't here," Arden stated flatly.

Julian held his temper, weighing the need to get Iris out safely against provoking a drug trafficker in his own den. Keeping his tone even, he replied, "All my men are watching, Mr. Solis. Their phones are recording. You're a licensed wholesaler. Now that the mother of my child is lying here beaten in your office, you can't seriously expect me to just walk away."

"I said she's not here. That's the end of it." Arden's cheek twitched.

Julian's voice dropped to an icy low. "Then you'll have to kill all fifteen of us. Otherwise, I'm taking her with me today."

With that, he shoved past the thug in his way.

As the man reached for his gun, Arden caught his wrist.

"This is a public market. No gunfire," Arden hissed under his breath.

"What do you want me to do then?"

"She's seen the product. She knows about the ten-plus tons of uncut inventory in storage. If she won't work for me, she doesn't leave alive."

The enforcer gave a slight nod, his hand easing toward the knife at his belt.

Arden forced a smile, clapping him on the shoulder as he muttered, "I'll set you up in Zaxaria. Handle this clean, and the operation there is yours."

"Thanks, boss."

Arden moved toward the back, unlatching the balcony door.

Julian finally reached Iris. He knelt beside her, one knee on the concrete floor, and pressed trembling fingers to her neck. When he felt the steady throb of her pulse, he let out a heavy, relieved breath.

Gently, he slid his arms beneath her, lifting her against his chest.