Claimed by the Crown Heir novel Chapter 148

Turns out even she knew the meaning of fear.

"What are you thinking about?" A deep, magnetic voice hummed near her ear. Alistair's warm breath brushed against her skin, sending a subtle shiver down her spine.

Vanessa pressed her lips together. "Nothing. Just thinking that no matter how sharp someone is, they can still fall victim to the malice of others."

"It's never the malice of others that destroys them; it's their own unchecked greed."

Every word hit the nail right on the head.

"Well, isn't that Victor Vance?" Nolan strolled over to the one-way glass, gazing down at a booth on the first floor with clear amusement.

Victor was sprawled out on a sofa down below, an arm wrapped around a beautiful woman on each side, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.

He didn't look like a ruined man on the brink of bankruptcy. He maintained the same arrogant, untouchable swagger he always had.

Benedict stood up and joined him by the window. His dark eyes scanned the crowd before narrowing slightly at a specific spot.

The woman sitting on the right side of the booth—why did she look so familiar?

"Vanessa, come here."

Vanessa, who had been whispering closely with Alistair, quickly stood up and walked over when Benedict called her.

"What is it, Ben?"

Benedict tilted his chin, gesturing toward a specific direction below.

Following his gaze, Vanessa spotted a familiar figure. Giselle, who had been missing for days, was sitting right there in Victor's booth.

The bar's main floor was a chaotic swirl of neon strobe lights and pulsing music—a chaotic scene of alcohol and excess.

Yet Giselle sat with her head bowed, her shoulders slumped lifelessly as if every ounce of fight had been drained out of her.

Despite being surrounded by the deafening party, a suffocating aura of despair seemed to wrap tightly around her.

"Why is your sister hanging around Victor Vance?" Benedict asked, clearly confused.

His bodyguards finally snapped out of their shock and lunged forward to grab her. Giselle scrambled onto the sofa, clutching the jagged neck of a broken bottle and swinging it wildly.

Alistair walked over unhurriedly, his dark eyes narrowing. "What's going on?"

Nolan shrugged, dropping a casual phrase in English. "Beats me."

No matter how aggressively Giselle lashed out, she was wildly outnumbered. Within seconds, the guards subdued her and wrenched the broken glass from her hands.

Shoving aside the men trying to help him, Victor stormed forward with bloodshot eyes and viciously slapped her across the face twice.

The violent smacks exploded through the dead-silent room, making the skin on everyone's scalp crawl.

The force of the blows knocked Giselle's head to the side. Her cheeks instantly swelled, blood trickled from the corner of her split lip, and her ears rang violently.

A moment later, she whipped her head back up. Her hair was a disheveled mess, her eyes wide with sheer terror and despair as she screamed at the crowd at the top of her lungs.

"Help! Please, help me! He's keeping me hostage! Someone, please call the cops!"