Who Cares About Him When I'm Married to the Richest Man?-Chapter 190: The Disappearance of Patrick Doyle
Jacobs Villa.
Kylie Dalton glared at Rosalind Jacobs, "Still no word from Mrs. Grayson? Have you even tried to win her over seriously? Didn’t she used to be quite good with you? Why did she suddenly stop paying attention to you? Is there a problem with your attitude?"
These past few days, Kylie Dalton had been forcing Rosalind Jacobs to curry favor with Mrs. Grayson and Owen Grayson, but they entirely ignored her. She felt like her dignity was being trampled underfoot, yet her mother refused to give up, incessantly pushing her.
If she had a solution, would she be at this impasse now? The Grayson Family had already broken off the engagement, determined not to accept her. What could she do?
Being dumped was already frustrating enough, and yet her mother continued to pressure her!
"Brother already said that the Grayson Family provided compensation, why should I keep pursuing them?"
Rosalind Jacobs said impatiently, "I’m not some cheap commodity. Why, just because they don’t want me, should I desperately cling to them? Can’t we pretend this engagement never happened? Anyway, with those few projects from the Grayson Family, the company’s crisis can be smoothly resolved."
Kylie Dalton looked at her with frustration, "Do you not get it at all? With your reputation in Northgarde right now, finding a decent marriage proposal is as hard as reaching the sky! Adding to that, with the Sommers Family watching closely, if you can’t secure the Grayson Family, you’ll end up marrying someone random. Are you truly content with that?"
Rosalind Jacobs hung her head, anxiously twisting the edge of her clothes, "In the worst case, I won’t marry anyone my whole life, alright? Or if it comes to that, I’ll go and stay abroad—surely the Sommers Family can’t reach overseas?"
"Abroad? Is it really that easy abroad?" Kylie Dalton angrily poked her head, "Oh, Rosalind, what am I supposed to say about you?"
Rosalind Jacobs defiantly retorted, "I just..."
Before she could finish speaking, Kylie Dalton’s phone suddenly rang. She gestured to Rosalind Jacobs for silence, glanced at the caller ID, and her eyes lit up with delight. She quickly answered while walking out, "Hello? Is there any news?" 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞
The PR manager from The Everwill Club replied, "Lila, finally there’s a little good news—Doyle’s phone has been found!"
"Only the phone was found?" Kylie Dalton said with some displeasure, "Can’t you take this more seriously? As a VCP member at the club, is this how you treat me? Can’t find the person for so many days, and now it’s just the phone?"
The PR manager chuckled knowingly, replying, "Lila, we’re really not disregarding this. In recent days, the club has sent many people to search for Doyle’s whereabouts, but they just can’t find him. He’s like he vanished from the earth. I’m thinking, could it be he earned enough money and went back to school?"
"No way," Kylie Dalton said firmly, "He truly loves me. If he were leaving The Everwill Club, he would definitely inform me."
The PR manager flattered her, "Naturally, Doyle’s feelings for you are evident to all of us, undoubtedly genuine. It’s just that he can’t be reached for the moment. So, uh, when might you be free to come over for his phone?"
Kylie Dalton said, "I’ll come right over."
Though dissatisfied with the club’s efficiency, after searching for days, even finding a phone brought her extreme joy.
The PR manager eagerly said, "Alright then, I’ll be waiting for you at the club."
Hanging up, Kylie Dalton called the driver, instructing him to take her to The Everwill Club immediately.
Half an hour later, Kylie Dalton pushed open The Everwill Club’s doors. The PR manager promptly greeted her with a sycophantic smile, "Lila, you’re finally here. I’ve been waiting for ages."
Kylie Dalton asked, "No nonsense now, where’s Doyle’s phone?"
The PR manager quickly handed over the phone with both hands.
Kylie Dalton glanced at it; it was the latest model from the fruit brand she had given to Doyle last month. To get it earlier, she had paid a tenfold markup. On it were the initials of Patrick Doyle engraved.
It was indeed Doyle’s phone.
She held the phone without first checking its contents and instead asked the PR manager, "If he’s alright, why did he leave his phone behind? Under what circumstances would he abandon his prized phone?"
Patrick Doyle, who loved gaming, usually played a few rounds whenever he had a moment, hardly ever parting with his phone.
"Where was this phone found?" Kylie Dalton asked.
The PR manager replied, "It was found in his dorm room. You know our club rents nearby studio apartments for employees. Initially, we didn’t have a key, so we couldn’t get in to check. Only early this morning did we obtain a key from the landlord and found Doyle’s phone inside."
Kylie Dalton nodded, saying no more, but instead opened the phone to check its contents.
The phone’s history was clean, showing call records only with dormmates and herself. In chat logs, there were only exchanges with her.
All the information stopped on the day he disappeared, and since then, none of the messages had been replied to.
Kylie Dalton was overtaken by an ominous foreboding, clutching the phone tightly.
Meanwhile, at Orlaine Manor on the outskirts.
Mason Jacobs lifted a basin of cold water, pouring it over the unconscious man’s head.
The man was tightly bound by chains on his hands and feet. His features were handsome and refined, his stature tall with robust muscles, dressed in leather jacket and jeans—a stylishly handsome man.
After being doused with cold water, the man finally opened his eyes. Upon seeing his surroundings, his pupils shrank rapidly, instinctively shouting, "Help! Help!"
Mason Jacobs looked down at him, as if viewing a piece of meat on a carving board. He didn’t interrupt the man’s cries but leisurely watched, like a cat enjoying the despair of a mouse.
Only when the man’s voice turned hoarse and he couldn’t shout any longer did Mason Jacobs kindly speak, "The entire basement is soundproofed. You’ve been yelling all this time in vain."
Initially, the man’s gaze held only terror and apprehension of the unknown while looking at him. But gradually, the man realized the person standing before him seemed somewhat familiar.
"You’re... Lila’s son?"
Mason Jacobs smirked, "Congratulations, you answered correctly."
The dagger in his hand lightly tapped against the man’s face, the icy touch inducing overwhelming fear, turning the man’s face utterly pale. "What are you going to do?"
"Why don’t you guess what I’m going to do," Mason Jacobs smiled as he approached him, even though his expression was warm, it instilled a chilling fear, "Patrick Doyle?"
Patrick Doyle trembled, his body involuntarily shrinking as a warm stream flowed between his legs, soon dispersing a foul smell in the basement.
Mason Jacobs scoffed at him, "Deceiving my mother round and round, I thought you’d at least be a tough nut to crack. But you’re not much more than this—wetting yourself already?"
He shook his head helplessly, seemingly with a bit of regret, and sighed, "If only my mom could see this. Poor her, tricked by you so completely, actually thinking she was your only one, not knowing that you have four or five girlfriends at the same time."
Patrick Doyle looked desperate, "Bro, I’m a gigolo, of course, I have many girlfriends. Which normal person would fall for a gigolo? I think Mrs. Jacobs doesn’t really like me, she probably just enjoys the process."
He hoped these words would make Mason Jacobs let go of his hatred for him. He figured it out; Lila’s son was ashamed that Lila was infatuated with him.
In that case, why not just behave? There’s no need to reach the point of swords drawn and bows bent.
Patrick Doyle began to ponder, maybe it was just a misunderstanding, if he sweet-talked this rich kid, he might be able to escape.
But who would have thought, the dagger in Mason Jacobs’s hand directly slashed across his face, making him scream in agony. The pain was one thing, but most importantly, his face... it was the face he was so proud of.
It was the face he depended on for survival!
The sticky warm blood dripped down, and Patrick Doyle quivered with fear, reaching out to touch his face to see what it had become, but dared not, afraid of an infection that would leave a scar.
He had worked hard to become the top earner at The Everwill Club and latch onto Kylie Dalton, his golden goose. If his face was ruined, how would he continue to prosper?
Patrick Doyle trembled, begging Mason Jacobs for mercy, "Please let me go, I know I was wrong. I didn’t know you didn’t like your mom seeing other people outside, I really didn’t know. If I had known, I definitely wouldn’t have entertained her... please, don’t harm me..."
He was trembling with fear, the chains binding his legs constantly shaking and making a rustling sound.
All the usual gentleness and elegance in Mason Jacobs vanished, his eyes now brimming with unconcealed violence and bloodlust. He wore a strange smile as the dagger slid from Doyle’s face to press firmly against the artery in his neck.
He smiled like this, speaking word by word, "Patrick Doyle, male, thirty-two years old, middle school education, rural upbringing, never liked studying as a kid, entered the industry at eighteen, had his face done six times. Am I wrong?"
Patrick Doyle looked up in terror, "How... how do you know that..."
These were secrets he had hidden for years!
He looked young, and with deliberate grooming to look younger, he had told people he was a college student from a top university for years, and everyone believed him.
The information before he came to The Everwill Club was private, how could ordinary people casually obtain such news?
Patrick Doyle wept bitterly, "Young Master Jacobs, please let me go, I know I was wrong. I’ll never lie again. I’ll be who I truly am, no more changes to my identity..."
Mason Jacobs gave him a peculiar look, forcefully stabbing the dagger tip a few times onto Doyle’s body. Before Doyle’s screams could escape, Mason spoke first, "What made you think you had a chance to get out today?"
He asked earnestly, as if genuinely curious.
Patrick Doyle, already mentally collapsed by Mason’s unpredictable demeanor, cried and shrank back, "Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me, let me go home!"
Mason Jacobs smiled regretfully at him, "Sorry, if you were just scared, I might have encouraged you, but if you want to leave, there’s nothing I can do."
"Because, anyone brought to my secret property doesn’t leave so easily."
Mason Jacobs let out a sinister laugh. Ever since he sensed someone had been monitoring him last time, he had rarely taken action. Especially after this manor attracted secret investigations, after he cleaned everything up, he closed it completely until today.
Though Special Assistant Wood had advised him not to do this, he was suffocating. The Grayson Family withdrew the engagement, the Jacobs Family was struggling, the woman he liked was dismissive of him, and the former insurance salesman he looked down on had suddenly become a wealthy heir.
Each of these things was driving him mad.
If he didn’t find a way to release his frustration, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.
So he had Special Assistant Wood bring him over.
The so-called most dangerous place is the safest, and they probably never expected he’d return to Orlaine Manor so soon. Maybe their previous suspicion of him was accidental, and those monitoring him in secret had long withdrawn?
Overall, everything went surprisingly smooth today. Mason felt he hadn’t been so satisfied in a long time, with everything completely under his control, not a bit off.
Today, right here, he was going to dismember this pretty boy, Patrick Doyle, piece by piece.
Ridiculous, such trash actually dared to cling to the Jacobs Family.
Deserved to die!
Meanwhile.
Outside Orlaine Manor, in a hidden spot, Miles Morgan was on the phone with Zion Fitzwilliam.
"President Fitzwilliam, the person is in, yes, I clearly saw, Mason Jacobs really has the guts to play under the radar."
On the other end of the line, Zion’s voice was indifferent, "Is the basement all prepared?"
Miles chuckled, "All the pinhole cameras are in place, ensuring we will have full, multi-angled recordings of his criminal activities."
At this, he hesitated a little, asking, "President Fitzwilliam, really, are we just going to ignore that pretty boy being taken in? It’s still a life, after all. I just heard Mason seems to have started moving already."
There’s still time to save him, wait any longer and it may really be too late.
"Yes," Zion responded affirmatively without hesitation, "We’re not just aiming for this piece of evidence, we can’t alert the snake. Besides, that person isn’t worth saving."
"Oh... alright," Miles could only suppress his guilt and prepare himself to face a new day’s opportunities and challenges.
Zion instructed, "Last time he acted too fast and we didn’t catch up in time, this time we must keep up, can’t be like last time."
Miles hurriedly said, "I promise to complete the task!"
After hanging up, Miles watched even more attentively, making sure not even a fly could escape from the manor.
Haha, Assistant Harris had been sent away for months. This was his great opportunity; if he tried a little harder and showed President Fitzwilliam, maybe he could really replace Assistant Harris in the future.
