The café owner had kicked out all his customers so he could assault me in peace. But someone had seen him slip something into my drink and called the cops the moment they left.
They rushed me to the hospital to have my stomach pumped, took my statement, and left me with a thick coat.
I borrowed a charger from the front desk. The next morning, I called the calligraphy studio and resigned.
After that, I went to the mall next door, grabbed a cheap set of casual clothes, and headed for the airport to fly home.
But the second I stepped out of the mall, several of Neil's bodyguards blocked my path.
"Miss Henson, Mr. Sanchez is hosting a banquet at the Imperial Monarch Hotel today to celebrate his two-year anniversary with Secretary Cobb."
"He's specifically requested that you come and perform for Miss Cobb. If you'll follow us, please."
I frowned.
"Get out of my way, or I'm calling the police."
The lead bodyguard, George Whitney, let out a contemptuous laugh.
"Go ahead. We'll file a report of our own."
"Mr. Sanchez says that dress you burned yesterday was worth a hundred grand. That's enough to land you behind bars for a good while."
I laughed in disbelief. So this was the trap they'd been setting.