Chapter 455 - 458: Taken to the Police Station

Claire Bennett sat stiffly on the sofa, as if all her strength had been drained from her.

Her phone screen was dark. The anonymous message she had just received was like a brand chilled in ice, searing her heart.

"Laura Lawson has been successfully brought back to Aston by Adrian Lancaster’s men. She was under strict guard the entire time and is now being held under house arrest."

Claire Bennett’s fingers trembled uncontrollably. She slowly raised a hand to her chest, the palm icy cold against her heart.

Others might think she was only afraid of being exposed, of facing prison.

But only she knew the truth. What she feared most was never the law or the punishment.

She was terrified that once Adrian Lancaster learned the truth, he would despise her, ignore her, and never love her again...

Claire Bennett’s throat tightened, and her breath hitched.

She could vividly imagine the scene: Adrian Lancaster interrogating Laura Lawson.

All his past tenderness and trust would instantly curdle into disgust and contempt.

He would show her no mercy, no compassion. He would never forgive her.

The thought made Claire Bennett’s eyes turn red and her nose prickle.

Just then, the doorbell rang, shattering the silence.

Claire Bennett snapped back to reality, quickly suppressing the panicked look in her eyes and wiping away the tears.

She got up to open the door and found Mr. Foster and his apprentice standing outside.

"Ms. Marshall."

Claire Bennett stared in surprise. "What are you two doing in Aston?"

Mr. Foster wasted no time on pleasantries and got straight to the point.

"Ms. Marshall, to be frank, Mr. Marshall sent us to get you out of Aston. It’s not safe here anymore. Pack your things quickly. The car is on standby downstairs. We have to leave Aston immediately."

Claire Bennett stiffened, her lips trembling. She shook her head instinctively. "I’m not going."

She looked up, her eyes holding an obsessive longing that no one else could comprehend.

"Ms. Marshall, if you don’t leave today, you won’t get another chance," Mr. Foster said, his tone heavy with meaning.

Claire Bennett just shook her head. "That’s not certain. Maybe Laura Lawson hasn’t talked. Maybe Adrian Lancaster still doesn’t know anything. If I run, it will only confirm my guilt—it will confirm everything. If I stay in Aston, I still have a chance to explain, a chance to win him back. I believe that one day, he’ll have a change of heart and come back to me."

Mr. Foster frowned, his tone growing more severe.

"Ms. Marshall, don’t be a fool. This is no time to be gambling with emotions. With Laura Lawson in the Lancaster family’s hands, the chain of evidence against you is practically complete. You have minutes, not hours. If you stay in Aston, you’re just waiting to be arrested."

"I don’t care." Claire Bennett’s composure finally shattered. Her eyes were red, burning with a stubborn defiance.

"I’m not leaving! Even if Adrian Lancaster knows the truth about the car accident, I’m still not leaving! I’m staying here. At least this way I can still see him every day, have a chance to talk to him. I can’t bear to leave him."

Seeing Claire Bennett so lost in her obsession, deaf to all reason, Mr. Foster knew that further words were useless.

His expression turned cold and hard. He wasted no more words.

They had been partners for years; not a single word was necessary.

He lifted his gaze slightly, glancing at Lawson beside him, his eyes darkening almost imperceptibly.

Lawson understood immediately. He took a silent, weightless step forward. His movement was swift, precise, and steady, with no warning whatsoever.

Claire Bennett was still lost in her own panic, resentment, and anguish, her defenses completely down, her neck exposed and vulnerable.

The next second, the heel of a hand struck a pressure point on the back of her neck. The blow was controlled but decisive.

A single, sharp blow.

Claire Bennett’s vision went black. Her struggles ceased instantly. The obsession, the panic, the heartache in her eyes all vanished as her body went limp and she lost consciousness completely.

Lawson caught her firmly, his movements professional and efficient as he prevented her from falling and getting hurt.

"Let’s go," Mr. Foster said in a cold voice.

The two worked in perfect sync. Lawson supported the unconscious Claire Bennett, half-carrying and half-guiding her, careful to avoid any inappropriate contact.

Mr. Foster took the lead, his eyes scanning the hallway vigilantly to ensure they weren’t being followed, before they quickly entered the elevator.

The lobby was quiet and empty, deserted in the dead of night.

The pair strode quickly out of the apartment building. A sudden gust of wind hit them, carrying the chill of late autumn.

A black van was idling silently by the curb, its door ajar. They were one step away from escape.

Lawson bent down, about to place the unconscious Claire Bennett into the van.

Suddenly.

From all directions, blinding headlights flared to life.

Several powerful beams converged on them, instantly bathing the night in a stark, pale light and sealing off every possible escape route.

From the side of the road, from behind the shrubbery, from the complex exit, from the parking lot’s blind spots—countless men in black slowly emerged from the darkness.

They moved in unison, their presence cold and menacing, their silence absolute.

Every one of them was an elite member of the Lancaster family’s security detail. Their stances were solid, their gazes sharp and cold. They formed a tight, layered perimeter, closing in without a single gap.

The air seemed to freeze.

The night wind died.

Every muscle in Mr. Foster’s body tensed. His pupils constricted, and his heart plummeted.

’It’s too late.’

’The moment they stepped out of the building, they had walked right into the inescapable trap Adrian Lancaster had set.’

’The entire complex, the whole street, had already been silently locked down.’

The night was deep, but the headlights turned it to day.

The closing circle trapped the three of them. There was no escape, no retreat.

In the biting cold of the night, the glaring headlights sliced through the heavy darkness, pinning their three shadows to the frigid ground.

The silence was terrifying. There wasn’t a single sound other than the steady, rhythmic footsteps of the men in black, each one a hammer blow against the heart, radiating an overwhelming, crushing pressure.

Mr. Foster’s arms tensed. In an instant, he moved to shield Lawson and the unconscious Claire Bennett, his back forming a rigid, protective arc.

"Protect her. Don’t let Ms. Marshall get hurt."

Mr. Foster’s voice was low and resolute, leaving no room for retreat.

The words had barely left his lips when the two closest bodyguards rushed forward, their movements swift and fierce, radiating the sharp energy of seasoned fighters.

Lawson didn’t dare hesitate. He tightened his hold on the unconscious Claire Bennett, shielding her with his body and trying to protect her from the coming clash.

He pressed himself against the van, back rigid, his eyes locked on the advancing men, prepared to fight to the last.

The first two bodyguards attacked with lightning speed, their strikes clean and efficient, aimed for vital points with no mercy.

Mr. Foster met them head-on, his movements agile as he dodged and raised a hand to block. The dull CRACK of bone on bone echoed through the night.

Drawing on his years of combat experience, he just barely held off their two-pronged assault, a flurry of fists and feet managing to stop the initial charge.

But the Lancaster elites were too numerous. The encirclement was complete, and more men were constantly closing in from all sides.

One man engaged Mr. Foster, while several others immediately changed course, making a beeline for Lawson and the woman he was protecting.

With the unconscious Claire Bennett in his arms, Lawson’s movements were severely restricted, making it impossible for him to fight at full strength.

He could only grit his teeth and twist his body to evade, taking the brunt of the attacks on his back and arms. Every block was a full-strength effort, leaving his muscles burning and numb, veins bulging on his forearms.

"Stay back!" Lawson roared, his eyes filled with defiance as he desperately protected the woman in his arms.

He knew Claire Bennett was completely helpless. If they captured her, she would spend the rest of her life in prison, stripped of her freedom.

Their mission today was to ensure her safety. They had to protect her at all costs; they couldn’t let her be taken.

Otherwise, they would have no way of explaining this to Mr. Marshall.

However, the gap in their numbers was too vast.

Mr. Foster was fighting four men at once, his stamina draining rapidly.

His techniques were still sharp, but he was no match for their sheer numbers.

Attacks rained down from all sides. Unable to defend against them all, he took a heavy elbow strike to his lower back.

A wave of excruciating pain shot through him. Mr. Foster grunted, stumbling half a step. The web of his hand went numb, and the force of his blocks weakened dramatically.

In that instant of weakness, two bodyguards seized his arms, their grips painfully strong as they locked his joints.

Two more came forward and pinned his shoulders, holding him firmly in place. He couldn’t move an inch.

Mr. Foster struggled fiercely, veins bulging on his back and cold sweat beading on his temples. His eyes burned with bitter rage, but no matter how he strained, he couldn’t break the iron-like grip.

"Let go!" he roared, his voice hoarse. But it was hopeless.

Lawson’s situation was even more dire on the other side.

Several bodyguards closed in, avoiding vital areas and focusing their attacks on his limbs.

Soon, they had his wrists and forearms in their grip.

A powerful force yanked at him. Lawson gritted his teeth, refusing to let go, his arms still stubbornly wrapped around Claire Bennett.

"Let go!" the lead bodyguard commanded, his voice as cold and hard as steel.

"Never!" Lawson’s eyes were bloodshot as he resisted with all his might.

The next moment, several more powerful strikes landed simultaneously, precisely on the backs of his knees.

With a THUD, Lawson’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to one knee on the frigid ground.

The chill of the concrete seeped through his clothes, bone-deep and icy, but his arms protecting Claire Bennett never loosened their grip for an instant.

Finally, more men moved in to restrain him, prying his tense arms apart by brute force.

The force was savage and overwhelming, impossible to resist.

Lawson trembled, his eyes bloodshot with helpless fury. He could only watch as they took Claire Bennett away, his heart filling with despair.

Restrained and unable to move, Mr. Foster stood to the side, his face ashen as he stared at the scene, his eyes filled with regret and anguish.

Lawson’s arms hung limp, his chest heaving. He was a wreck.

A cold night wind swept through, stirring the silence.

The unconscious Claire Bennett remained oblivious, her long lashes resting on her cheeks. Stripped of her obsession and defiance, she looked utterly fragile.

Powerless to resist, she was held up by two bodyguards, one on each arm, and turned towards a black car parked at the curb.

Their movements were firm but controlled; they didn’t drag her roughly.

The stark white light of the headlights fell on her slender frame, making her look isolated and pathetic.

She had fought with every fiber of her obsessive being to stay in Aston, to stay by Adrian Lancaster’s side, to salvage even the faintest shred of his affection.

But in the end, her self-deceptive gamble had resulted in a total, crushing loss.

The man she couldn’t bear to leave, the love for which she had gambled everything—it had all been shattered completely.

The car door swung open, revealing an inky darkness like the gaping maw of a beast, ready to devour all her obsessions.

Mr. Foster watched Claire Bennett, a lump forming in his throat. He felt utterly helpless, unable to take a single step forward.

Caught in this inescapable trap, all struggle was futile.

He had been utterly defeated.

...

「Police Station Interrogation Room」

The hard iron chair was bone-chillingly cold, its restraints binding her limbs.

Claire Bennett was jolted awake by a piercing cold. Her consciousness struggled to return from a chaotic darkness, a hangover-like headache pounding at her temples, each throb a tearing pain.

She slowly lifted her heavy eyelids, her gaze sweeping blankly over her surroundings.

The cold, gray-white walls. The bolted-down table and chair. The silently blinking surveillance camera in the corner. And, sitting before her, a uniformed police officer with a solemn expression.

’This is a police station!’

The blood in Claire Bennett’s veins turned to ice.

’How did I get here?’

A terrible premonition seized her, and she began to struggle violently. The restraints on her wrists and ankles bit painfully into her skin, but she paid them no mind, her body trembling in frantic denial, her eyes filled with a disbelieving madness.

"Let me go! Why did you arrest me? Do you know who I am? I want a lawyer! I want to post bail..."

Her sharp, hoarse voice echoed through the interrogation room, laced with the hysteria of someone on the verge of collapse.

Claire Bennett thrashed in her chair, strands of hair plastered to her pale, contorted face. The carefully maintained composure she once prided herself on had shattered, leaving only a wretched, paranoid frenzy.

The police officer’s expression remained calm; he was used to suspects losing control during questioning.

"Maya Marshall, calm down. You are a suspect in a case of deliberately causing a traffic accident with intent to inflict bodily harm. A formal complaint has been filed against you."

Claire Bennett stared blankly at him, then suddenly burst into wild laughter. The sound was shrill and piercing, filled with a sense of utter absurdity and bitter resentment.

The laughter finally broke into a sob. Her eyes turned red, and her nails, clenched into tight fists, dug so deeply into her palms that they drew blood, though she didn’t seem to notice.

"Who filed the complaint? Was it Adrian Lancaster?"

The officer said nothing, simply pushing a thick evidence file across the table toward her.

A complete, meticulous, and airtight chain of evidence was spread out before her.

Laura Lawson’s complete recorded testimony. Recovered footage from the dashcam. Records of financial transactions. The trail of the overseas operation to silence a witness...

Every piece of evidence pointed directly at her, irrefutably proving her role as the mastermind. There were no loopholes, no room for argument, no possibility of denial.

Claire Bennett’s pupils contracted, and she began to tremble violently.

She read through the evidence, line by line. The conspiracies she believed she had hidden so perfectly were now dismantled and laid bare before her.

It was Adrian Lancaster who had gathered all this evidence. It was he who had relentlessly pursued her, who had personally thrown her into this sunless cage.

"Adrian Lancaster, how could you be so cruel?"

Tears of crazed indignation and resentment streamed down Claire Bennett’s face, washing away the last vestiges of her dignity.

"Why? Why! What does Wren Sutton have that I don’t? Why would you do this to me?"

She shrieked, her emotions completely collapsing.

All her paranoia, her jealousy, her obsession erupted in that moment.

She couldn’t accept this outcome. She couldn’t accept that after years of careful scheming, she would end up losing everything and being thrown in prison.

"I want to see Adrian Lancaster! I have something to say to him!"

"Please, I’m begging you. Just let me see him one last time. Then I can die without regrets."

Outside the interrogation room, Adrian Lancaster stood ramrod straight, exuding a bone-chilling coldness.

His expression was impassive as he listened to the woman’s hysterical screams from inside. There was no ripple of emotion in his eyes, no pity, and certainly no sympathy.

From the moment she deliberately orchestrated that car accident, intending to harm his wife and child, her fate had been sealed.

Whether she was the Maya Marshall of the past or the Claire Bennett of today, the only thing awaiting her was the judgment of the law.