The Billionaire's Rental Wife Is A Hot Shot

"Don’t let anyone leave that beach house," Damien ordered his team, who were now guarding the premises. Some of them were already on the hunt for the person who tried to bury Evelyn alive, but he knew this maid could be the key to open up more secrets.

"What exactly happened last night?" Evelyn asked, feeling lost amidst the chaos. The last thing she vividly remembered was someone throwing dirt over her face. Her eyes widened in horror as she pieced together what the attacker had likely intended.

"It doesn’t matter now," Avery said quickly, reading her friend’s distress.

"You’re safe, and whoever did this to you will pay."

But who could it be? Nicholas was locked away in Damien’s den. Her ex-fiancé, Vincent, had long since stopped caring about her existence. Sabrina? Or perhaps, her stepmother? No, Sophia despised her, but not to the extent of murder—or so she thought. Her mind grew heavy as she began suspecting everyone with whom she had ever had a bad relationship.

Just then, the doctor and his team entered the room, breaking her train of thought. They conducted a few tests, checked her vitals, and ensured she was breathing normally.

"Did you change her dressing?" the doctor asked the nurse, noting the bandage wrapped around Evelyn’s right ankle. The wound, caused by a sharp metal object, worried him due to the risk of infection.

"I’ll do it right away, Doctor," the nurse replied, quickly gathering the necessary supplies. She had been so absorbed in the family’s interaction that she had momentarily forgotten her duties.

"She’s stable, Mr. Reign. We can continue her treatment at home," the doctor said, understanding the family’s preference for privacy and security. The paparazzi had already caught wind of Zevian’s presence, so it was best to move Evelyn back.

Zevian nodded, and the doctor instructed his team to make the necessary arrangements. "We’ll conduct another breathing test in a few hours. In the meantime, freshen up and have something light, Mrs. Reign. Your body needs plenty of nutrients."

Evelyn nodded, a blush coloring her cheeks. This was the first time anyone had addressed her as Mrs. Reign. The staff at the Reign household had been instructed not to use the title, as Zevian worried it might make her uncomfortable since their marriage had been a sudden surprise for both of them.

The senior doctor detailed a few more instructions to his team before leaving, leaving behind the nurse. She quickly finished dressing Evelyn’s ankle, tending to the small cuts on her hands and neck.

"Please assist her in taking a bath, making sure her ankle stays dry," the nurse advised Zevian, causing Evelyn to blush again.

She glanced at Zevian, now seated beside her, discussing with Kiana the possibility of skipping school for the day. Everything was happening so suddenly between them, but the sweetness of it all left her heart warm and giddy.

"We should head back and rest for a while," Damien suggested, having just received a message from his team—they had caught the culprit.

"Yes, you both should head home. We’ll take care of her," Rosalind urged, knowing they had spent the entire night at the hospital. While Zevian guarded Evelyn inside, Damien had patrolled outside, his mere presence enough to deter anyone who might have considered harming Evelyn again.

Zevian hesitated, but when Damien tapped his shoulder, signaling something, he sighed. "Get a wheelchair or have someone help you walk. Don’t rush around," he cautioned his wife, well aware of her adventurous tendencies.

Evelyn nodded with a small smile, and after nagging Avery to stay with her until his return, Zevian walked out with Damien.

"Did they catch him?" Zevian asked as they entered the private lift, his team ready to escort them to one of Damien’s dens, a place far worse than Evelyn had seen a few days ago.

-----

"Please forgive me, sir!" The maid collapsed onto her knees the moment Zevian stepped into the cell. She tried to grasp his leg, but John shoved her back roughly.

"Did you get her phone?" Damien asked, his voice cold. His assistant nodded, and quickly showed the data they collected including chats, calls, and bank credits.

"My mother is sick! I needed the money for her treatment, sir! Please, forgive me!" the maid continued, her sobs growing desperate as she spun her tale. She was oblivious to the fact that the men before her could see through lies with ease. They had the resources to verify her story within seconds, but Damien wasn’t about to waste his energy on a mere pawn.

"Well, let’s save her life by taking her daughter’s," Damien said, his tone flat, sending the maid into a panicked frenzy.

Before she could cause another scene, Damien gestured to his team. "Make sure she never makes herbal tea again."

"No! No!" the maid screamed, her voice breaking as one of the men stepped forward with a wire cutter in hand, his expression twisted into a sadistic grin.

Her cries echoed through the cold, damp hall as Zevian and Damien walked away, her fate sealed. Zevian’s expression was darker than a storm cloud, and Damien could only hope his team wouldn’t have too much trouble cleaning up later.

"You took longer than I expected to catch me," laughed the bald, lean man sitting in the next cell. Zevian entered with Damien and John, his glare slicing through the air. The man’s laughter was cut off with a shriek as a high dose of electricity surged through the devices attached to his limbs.

It was strange how easily Damien’s team had tracked down the culprit, almost as if someone was guiding them straight to him. But that thought quickly faded as they looked at the notorious figure in the high-intensity torture cell—Monu, a psychopath infamous among the elite.

"Who hired you?" Damien demanded, his voice a low growl.

Monu, known for his twisted pride in his criminal expertise, merely grinned. "We found a voice modulation app on his phone," one of Damien’s men reported. "He used it to lure the maid into this plan. He even wired money to her account."

Monu’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee. He had been hired by Maverick to drug and dispose of Evelyn. But when Maverick decided to do the honors himself, Monu stepped back, pocketing the extra money and missing the opportunity to kill this dangerous man’s wife. He would have been remembered in history for such boldness.

"This is your last warning, Monu," Damien’s tone held a finality that made even the hardest criminals shiver. "Who ordered you to kidnap her?"

Monu smirked, his gaze locking onto Zevian. He licked his lips, his silver teeth glinting in the dim light. "She must be really good in bed for Mr. Reign to care so much."

John, seething with rage, lunged forward and delivered a brutal kick to Monu’s face, sending his chair toppling over. Blood poured from Monu’s nose, but before John could unleash more fury, Damien’s men restrained him. They needed Monu alive long enough to talk.

Zevian’s eyes never left Monu as he was hauled back upright, his demeanor ice-cold. He picked up a set of darts from a nearby table, the tools of torture laid out on it like a surgeon’s instruments.

"Be honest," Zevian’s voice was deceptively calm as he positioned the first dart. "Tell me who it was."

Monu’s bravado faltered when the first dart embedded itself in his palm with a sickening thud. He howled in pain, but Zevian wasn’t done.

"Hold his hand steady," Zevian ordered, his growl sending shivers in the room. Damien’s men snapped out of their shock and pinned Monu’s hand against the wall. One by one, the darts found their mark, each one driven into Monu’s fingers with lethal accuracy. His screams filled the room, but Zevian remained unmoved, methodically reaching for another set of darts.

Zevian moved toward Monu’s other hand, shattering his confidence completely.

"It was Vincent Blake!" Monu gasped, his voice breaking under the relentless agony. "Her ex-fiancé!"