Chapter 12

Kylie sprinted toward the end of the alley at full speed. It was only a few dozen meters away, yet it felt like an endless stretch. Just as she ran, a sharp pain exploded at the back of her head. The next second, everything went black. One of the thugs kicked her unconscious body. "Stupid bitch, run now! I dare you!" A woman from the group sneered. "Tear her clothes off! I'll snap a few pictures first—make sure she's too scared to go to the cops or act all high and mighty ever again!" "Stop! What the hell are you doing?" A sharp voice sliced through the chaos just as a white sports car screeched into the alley. Startled, the thugs panicked and scrambled out of the way, momentarily forgetting about Kylie lying unconscious on the ground. Owen slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car. He rushed over, scooping her into his arms. "Frank! Get me a jacket, now!" Frank, Owen's agent, sprang into action. He grabbed a black suit jacket from the back seat and handed it over. Was this woman a walking disaster magnet? Reporters, crazed fans—one after another, and in the blink of an eye, she had almost ended up dead. "Owen?" The crazed fans paid no mind to Kylie's condition. Seeing their idol in person for the first time, they shrieked excitedly, their eyes sparkling with hearts. "Owen! I love you!" Owen, carrying Kylie in his arms, was about to get into the car when he suddenly halted. His gaze turned ice-cold as he swiftly turned to face the flamboyantly dressed women. "You're my fans?" "Yes, yes! We're your biggest fans!" Owen lowered his gaze to the unconscious Kylie, a deep sense of guilt and heartache tightening in his chest. She wouldn't have gone through this if it weren't for him. The consequences would have been unthinkable if he hadn't rushed back in time. Seeing Owen remain silent, the fans mistook it for tacit approval. They eagerly stepped forward, desperate to get closer to their idol. "Get lost!" Owen's voice was sharp and furious. "You call this loving me? If bullying people is how you show your so-called love, then I want nothing to do with disgusting fans like you. Get as far away from me as possible—I don't want to see filth like you!" Without another word, he turned to Frank. "Call the police. Have every single one of them locked up." The white sports car tore through the streets, racing toward Seaville's top private hospital. Seaville was notorious for its gridlocked traffic, and sure enough, misfortune struck—there were red lights at nearly every intersection. Owen's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his lips pressing into a hard line. When the light finally turned green, the cars ahead remained motionless. Ignoring the city's ban on honking, he slammed his hand down on the horn. The sharp blare of the horn pierced the air, making Kylie's brow twitch. Slowly, she opened her eyes. As her vision adjusted, she took in the sight of the sluggishly moving traffic ahead. Turning her head, she glanced at the man beside her, whose attention was fixed on the road. "Owen?" "You're awake?" A wave of relief surged through Owen. He immediately asked, "Are you in pain? I'm taking you to the hospital right now." Kylie's head throbbed with a dull ache, and she could feel the sting of scrapes from her fall. Flashes of what had happened before she lost consciousness flickered in her mind. Exhaling in relief, she murmured, "I'm fine. No need for a hospital. How did I end up in your car? Weren't you supposed to be filming at Tenby University?" Owen was a public figure. A simple meal together had already sparked dating rumors—if they were seen at a hospital, the tabloids would probably take it a step further, spinning a wild pregnancy scandal. "Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?" Owen asked with concern. "I'm sure. I know my body, and I have medical knowledge myself. Besides, isn't the film crew waiting for you? Just drop me off up ahead—I'll grab a taxi home." "I already told the director to reschedule my scenes for tomorrow." Owen's sharp gaze fixed on her. "You don't seem to want me to know where you live. What are you so afraid of?" "I'm not… I just…" "Then give me your address, and I'll take you home now," Owen cut her off, his usual warmth laced with a firm, commanding edge. "Otherwise, you're coming with me." Just ahead, an intersection came into view. They were initially headed straight for the hospital, but now that it was no longer necessary, Owen switched lanes and made a right turn, steering in a different direction. Going back to Hythe Villa in this state wasn't ideal. Owen's place was the better option—she could tend to her wounds there and then stop by the mall to replace her ruined outfit. As for the news circulating online, she could explain it. But… would Samuel even believe her? She had no idea what awaited her next. 20 minutes later, the car pulled into Blue Lagoon Bay. Situated in the heart of the city, Blue Lagoon Bay was an elite residential area, home to sprawling luxury apartments spanning 400 to 500 square meters, each worth a fortune. Owen stepped out, walked around the front of the car, and opened the passenger door. He bent down, ready to carry Kylie. Her face flushed, and she quickly protested in a soft voice, "No need—I can walk on my own." As they entered the villa, Owen opened the shoe cabinet by the entrance and pulled out a pair of slippers, setting them at Kylie's feet. "I don't have any women's slippers here. These are brand new—you'll have to make do." He suddenly dropped to one knee on the plush white cashmere rug as he spoke. His long fingers reached for her foot, still snug in lambskin ankle boots, clearly intending to help her remove them and change into the slippers. Kylie stiffened, caught completely off guard. A wave of awkwardness washed over her. "N-no, that's not necessary! I can do it myself!" Flustered, she quickly pulled her foot back, hastily taking off her boots and putting on the slippers. The men's slippers were too big, making her already small feet look even tinier. Owen paused for a beat before chuckling, his warm smile tinged with amusement. "Looks like you haven't grown much over the years—your feet are still just as small." "Small feet make any shoes look good," Kylie quipped before steering the conversation elsewhere. "Do you have a first-aid kit? I need to treat my scrapes." Owen quickly fetched a first-aid kit. As Kylie reached for it, she hesitated momentarily before saying, "There's one more thing I need to trouble you with." "Go ahead." If it weren't for him, she wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. Let alone one favor—he'd be willing to do a hundred without question. "This outfit is ruined, " she said, holding out a bank card. "I'd like to buy the exact same one." Owen didn't take it. "No need. Just focus on treating your injuries. I'll have my assistant pick it up and send it over." With that, he pulled out his phone and started dialing. Before the call connected, Kylie put away her card and picked up the first-aid kit. She asked softly, "Where should I go to apply the medicine?" Owen raised his hand and gestured toward a guest room. Half an hour later, Owen's assistant arrived at his home, carrying several shopping bags stamped with the Ghezad logo. "Owen, I got everything exactly as you asked." "Just leave them there. You may leave now." Owen sat on the sofa, his head lowered, long fingers gliding over his iPad screen as he scrolled through the news. His brows knitted together in deep frustration. Sensationalized headlines, baseless speculation—what a load of garbage. Thankfully, the photos hadn't captured Kylie's face. It shouldn't affect her too much. By the time he finished reading, the assistant was already gone. Owen picked up one of the outfits and walked toward the guest room, raising his hand to knock twice. There was silence. He knocked again and asked through the door, "Kyls, are you done applying the medicine?" Still no response. A sudden wave of unease swept over him. Without a second thought, Owen pushed the door open and rushed inside.