I Faked My Death—Now I Have to Tame the Crazy Men I Left Behind-Chapter 84 - 82: My Face Was Slashed Up

It was over.

Completely and utterly over.

’System, where the hell did you go!’

This was Mia Grant’s last thought before she lost consciousness.

She frantically cursed the system in her mind.

’I hope it never manages to upgrade in this lifetime!’

—

As consciousness slowly returned, Mia Grant rubbed her throbbing forehead and slowly opened her eyes.

Her vision was met with total darkness.

When she realized this, she shot up and immediately felt her face, then proceeded to pat herself down all over.

’Was my face slashed up? No.’

’Arms and legs intact?’

’All my organs are still there?’

’Didn’t get my kidneys harvested?’

’No wounds on my body?’

Huh?

Huh!

Mia Grant’s eyes lit up. The driver’s words were still fresh in her mind.

’Wasn’t I supposed to be dead?’

’What’s going on? Not only am I not dead, but I don’t even have a single scratch.’

’Did the system intervene?’

She tried calling for the system, but there was no response.

"..."

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the heart that had just settled in Mia Grant’s chest leaped back into her throat.

’This place looks so unfamiliar.’

The design was antique and elegant. The bed she was lying on was even a traditional canopy bed.

This style would suit Kian Keller, but she was certain this wasn’t his home.

Mia Grant got out of bed and fumbled around for what felt like an eternity but couldn’t find a light switch.

For a moment, she wondered if she had transmigrated into some historical novel again. ’Don’t tell me I have to light a candle here?’

She nervously patted her pockets and found that her phone was missing.

Suddenly, her hand brushed against something on a cabinet. The next second, the screen of an intercom phone lit up with a faint, ghostly glow.

’There’s a phone!’

Mia Grant breathed a sigh of relief. ’Thank god I didn’t transmigrate.’

She was a science student; history wasn’t her strong suit. Even though there were plenty of lawless maniacs in this world, it was still better than a place where you could get beheaded at a moment’s notice, right?

This phone couldn’t contact the outside world, so she could only symbolically press ’1’.

’Escape is definitely impossible, so I might as well find out who saved me—or kidnapped me.’

’Since they let me live, they must have a motive.’

’Time to see what I’m really dealing with.’

’Then I can figure out the right way to handle this.’

The call connected quickly. Mia Grant held her breath.

"Young Master?"

Mia Grant listened closely to the voice on the other end. It sounded like an older man; she didn’t recognize it.

"Young Master, how did you get back to your room? Did you sneak back? Oh dear, the Second Master will be back soon. You should be kneeling in punishment, why are you running all over the place!"

"If you’re discovered, you’ll be scolded again."

Mia Grant tried her best to extract the key information from his words.

’Young Master, kneeling in punishment.’

’Is this room I’m in his, the ’Young Master’s’?’

The person on the other end was still trying to persuade him. "The Old Master is still in a coma. You should go back and wait for another two days. When the Old Master wakes up, he will definitely back you up!"

"Hello? Young Master? Why aren’t you saying anything..."

’The Old Master is in a coma.’

’Second Master.’

Mia Grant hung up the phone and tried to piece together these scattered fragments of information.

First, the person who brought her here most likely knew her; otherwise, they wouldn’t have locked her in the "Young Master’s" room. If that was the case, then she should know them too.

So, among the people she knew, whose family background fit these conditions?

’A massive family enterprise... all the male leads fit that description.’

The voice on the phone just now had a thick Jynsia accent, which meant she was still in Jynsia.

That rules out Hayes Hughes and Silas Grant.

The Hughes Family’s ancestral home isn’t here.

Several generations of the Sinclair Family live together, and she remembered the Sinclairs had a manor.

The Keller Family fits the criteria, but Kian Keller can’t be forced to kneel with his legs in their current condition.

That only leaves... Yates Donovan!

’The Donovan Family, the Second Master.’

"Right, right, right." Mia Grant slapped her forehead.

She remembered!

Yates Donovan’s father was the eldest son, but he passed away early.

His father had three younger brothers.

Meaning, he has three uncles.

His third uncle is dedicated to scientific research, and his youngest uncle is in the military and is rarely home.

So after the Old Master retired from the corporation, it was always his second uncle, the one in business, who managed the family enterprise.

Besides the corporation, his second uncle also called most of the shots at home.

It all added up.

Mia Grant let out a small sigh of relief.

’If it was Yates Donovan, then that ride-share car I got into... must have been sent to kill me.’

’Maybe the Hughes Family.’

’So, does this mean Yates Donovan saved me?’

’No way.’

Judging from the phone call just now, Yates Donovan can barely protect himself right now.

Even if his people rescued her, they couldn’t have brought her here.

Mia Grant had so many questions, and only by finding Yates Donovan could she get answers.

The tone of the person on the phone was clearly biased toward Yates Donovan. Since that’s the case—

Mia Grant dialed again.

This time, no one answered.

Unwilling to give up, Mia Grant tried one more time, but still, no one picked up.

Just then, a faint knock came from the locked door.

"Is anyone there?"

Although the person kept their voice low, Mia Grant still recognized them as the man from the phone.

"Hello," she said, walking over.

There was a few seconds of silence from the other side. "Are you Miss Mia Grant?"

"...You know who I am?"

"This is the Young Master’s room, but he has been in the ancestral hall for the past few days. I thought he had snuck back, but I just passed by there and saw he was still inside."

"I checked the security footage, and I believe it must be you."

He said he checked the footage, but in reality, the bodyguard Yates Donovan had placed near Mia Grant had reported her location.

Yates Donovan just didn’t know about it yet. Before the bodyguard could pass on the message, he discovered that Mia Grant was at the Donovan family’s old residence.

The old butler opened the door for her. He looked her over in the moonlight, asking if she was hurt.

"Did Yates Donovan bring me here?"

"Well..." The old butler was at a loss for words. "You should ask the Young Master. I’m not very clear on the details myself."

"Is he still kneeling in the ancestral hall as punishment? Why?"

The old butler gave an awkward laugh. "That... you should also ask the Young Master."

"I’ll take you to him now."

"Okay, thank you for the trouble."

The Donovan family’s old residence was a siheyuan, a traditional courtyard house, though Mia Grant had no idea how large it was. She followed the butler through a winding, covered corridor for a long time before they finally stopped.

"Can I go in?"

After all, it was the ancestral hall, where the Donovan ancestors were enshrined.

Out of politeness, Mia Grant still asked.

"Of course." The butler gave a meaningful smile. "You’ll be part of the Donovan family someday anyway. It’s not taboo to meet the ancestors ahead of time."

"?"

"However, I don’t have the key to this place." He ignored her bewildered expression and pointed to a window up above. "You’ll have to get in through there."

"..."

Inside the ancestral hall, Yates Donovan was lying on the floor, his arms pillowed behind his head and his legs crossed, staring blankly at the incense burning on the altar.

The smoke swirled, ethereal and empty.

Mia.

He chuckled and sighed. ’Why am I starting to miss that little rascal?’

CREAK.

The window was pushed open from the outside.

Yates Donovan wasn’t surprised at all. He slowly turned his gaze. "What took you so long? Did you bring the mattress..."

But where his gaze landed, a young woman in a white dress sat perched on the window frame, bathed in moonlight, one hand holding onto the latticework.

Hearing his voice, her clear eyes slowly lowered to meet his, a look of bewilderment, confusion, and a trace of helplessness in them. Like a fairy from the moon palace, untouched by the mortal world, she cast a glance his way.

The world stood still.

In that one second.

Yates Donovan felt his heart—right there in the left side of his chest—give a heavy thud.