Remarried Wife: Mr. Ex, We Will Never Reconcile!-Chapter 123: Facing the Judgment of Justice

Deceive her for seven years, cheat on her with her student, manipulate her mind, shatter her ballet career... and he just dies like this?

Where should she go to seek justice for this belated grievance!

Vera Sheridan stared fiercely at the Phantom that was about to completely disappear, her throat tasted like blood, almost unable to breathe.

She looked around blankly, searching for Noah Grant’s figure.

Only to see Noah Grant fasten the rope to the front of his G-Wagon, dragging a long rope towards the edge of the cliff.

He’s going to rescue Ian Kane!

When Noah Grant saw Ian Kane once again place Vera Sheridan in danger, looking at the car suspended in mid-air, at that moment, he truly wished Ian Kane would be smashed into pieces.

The words that burst forth, "Then let him die!", were his furious roar when pushed to the limit.

However, when the Phantom’s front suddenly sank downward, realizing Ian Kane would truly die, a primal fear of life disappearing and an instinctive rejection from the deepest part of his humanity viciously suppressed his hatred!

At that moment—

The roaring engine was deafening, several xenon headlights shot from behind, lighting up the cliff as bright as day.

A massive modified off-road rescue vehicle drove over, braking stirred up a cloud of gravel dust.

Noah Grant recognized it as a rescue vehicle, immediately dropped the rope, and moved to Vera Sheridan’s side.

He tightly wrapped Vera Sheridan’s waist, pulling her to a safe place, spinning to protect her in his arms, using his broad back to shield from flying stones and swirling airflow.

"Whish—Bang!"

A thick steel cable shot through the air, accurately hooking the Phantom’s disappearing tail, pulling it tautly!

The falling Phantom was abruptly yanked to a halt, suspended on the cliff wall, the car body made a jarring metallic groan in the wind.

A fully black off-road vehicle sped in, screeching to a stop beside the rescue vehicle.

The car door swung open, Jasper Crowe stepped out.

The glaring lights shone on his handsome face.

He locked his gaze on the Phantom dangling at the cliff’s edge, his jawline taut and sharp, thin lips pressed into a hard straight line.

The man stepped towards the rescue team leader, his pace still steady, but his hand hanging by his side clenched so tightly that the knuckles turned white.

"How’s President Kane now?" When he got closer, he stopped, his voice cold and low, his entire presence exuding pressure.

The rescue team leader pointed towards the Phantom’s rear, "Mr. Crowe, the steel cable is secure, our men are going down to rescue him, the front is severely damaged, the interior situation is unclear..."

Jasper Crowe’s brow furrowed tightly, his Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice suddenly rose sharply, decisive:

"At all costs, get him out immediately!"

He swiftly turned his head, eyes blazing towards the waiting medical team:

"As soon as he’s out, take over immediately! I want him alive! Do you understand?!"

The medical team was intimidated by Jasper Crowe’s fierce aura, nodded in unison, and immediately entered a more tense standby state.

On the other side, in Noah Grant’s solid embrace, Vera Sheridan’s violently heaving chest finally calmed slightly.

A pair of cold eyes, lost focus, looking at the thrilling rescue scene by the cliff.

The rescue personnel were descending the rope, approaching the Phantom’s front.

Noah Grant’s gaze swept over her.

The pearl white silk dress was torn in several places, stained with dirt and dark smudges.

Her hair was disheveled, wet and clinging to her pale cheek and slender neck.

His heart tensed, he took off his suit jacket, with warm body heat, tightly wrapped her thin body.

She had no reaction, her eyes still locked on the direction of the rescue.

Noah Grant’s eyes darkened, his Adam’s apple moved slightly, his voice tentative: "It’s too chaotic here, the wind is strong. You’re frightened, first go to my car?"

Vera Sheridan heard the voice, looked up at him, her lips moved, but ultimately didn’t make a sound, her gaze involuntarily drifted towards the cliff again.

Noah Grant’s face suddenly darkened.

His jaw tightened, following her gaze coldly glanced, leaving a line:

"Don’t worry, he won’t die!"

The voice was hard, like ice hitting the ground.

After saying that, he turned abruptly, without looking back, striding towards his car parked not far away, his back exuding a clear sense of coldness and alienation.

Vera Sheridan watched his resolute back, her brows furrowed.

She pursed her lips, almost without hesitation, lifted her foot and followed him.

Just a few steps away, Noah Grant bent down beside the car, pulled out a conspicuous white first-aid kit from the back seat, and turned to walk back.

Their eyes met suddenly.

Noah Grant’s footsteps paused. He saw her following him, and his tightly pressed lips curved upward almost imperceptibly.

He strode up to her, his gaze falling on a section of her calf beneath her skirt.

Vera Sheridan followed his gaze downward, where there was a fresh graze unmistakably imprinted.

"Get in the car, I’ll take care of it for you." He nodded toward the backseat of the G-Wagon, indicating with his chin.

Vera Sheridan obediently nodded.

Noah Grant opened the car door for her, one hand supporting her lower back, guiding her gently into the car.

With the door closed, the commotion of the rescue site outside was shut out.

He moved to the opposite side, took iodine swabs and gauze from the kit, and squatted down in front of her.

The already cramped car space became more confined with his towering presence, bringing an intangible, warmth-tinged pressure.

In the dim light of the dome lamp, Vera Sheridan looked down at him.

Noah Grant’s rough big hand lightly gripped her slender ankle, stabilizing her shin, while the other hand, holding the iodine-dipped swab, moved gently and quickly to disinfect the wound.

Feeling a slight coolness, Vera Sheridan instinctively flinched a bit.

"Does it hurt?" Noah Grant immediately stopped, looking up at her.

Under the dim light, the man’s features were handsome, his deep-set eyes carrying a softness contradicting his steady exterior.

Vera Sheridan shook her head, "It’s okay."

Noah Grant said, "I’ll be more gentle."

He lowered his head, continuing to focus on treating the wound.

The car interior fell into silence, with only the shallow breaths of the two, and the faint rustling sounds from the cotton swabs and gauze packaging.

An indescribable atmosphere, tinged with intimacy and reliance, quietly spread.

Just as Noah Grant was about to stick a small piece of sterile gauze, Vera Sheridan, who had been silent, suddenly spoke, her voice light yet clear, breaking the silence:

"Senior brother..."

Noah Grant’s hand did not stop, he just responded with a "Hmm?", indicating for her to continue.

Vera Sheridan’s gaze was not on him but cast out the car window toward the brightly lit, bustling rescue area in the distance, her voice calm, yet carrying a deep-seated persistence.

"I don’t want him to die."

She paused, sensing that the hand holding her ankle seemed to become momentarily stiff.

Noah Grant furrowed his brow, staying silent.

Then she added, "Because... he hasn’t been punished yet."

A moment after hearing this, Noah Grant’s hand loosened suddenly, then his fingertips unconsciously brushed lightly against her skin, the corners of his lips curling upward.

Just then, a stir and voices emerged outside the car window.

Noah Grant paused, raising his eyes to look outside.

By the cliffside, the rescue team was surrounding a figure, slowly walking onto level ground.

It was Ian Kane.

...

The airbags deployed instantly after the cliff fall, protecting Ian Kane, and he suffered almost no injuries from the violent impact.

The man’s suit jacket was torn in multiple places, covered with dust and grease, appearing in a state of disarray.

His hair was disheveled over his forehead, and the abrasion on his temple was slowly oozing dark red blood, trailing down the contour of his defined profile, adding a touch of untamed wildness.

He raised a hand, casually wiped away the sticky blood on his temple, looking down at the glaring dark red on his fingertips, and smiled indifferently.

Jasper Crowe had just finished his phone call, saw him, and flicked away the cigarette from his mouth hard.

He strode forward, giving Ian Kane’s arm a heavy slap, with such force that Ian Kane staggered slightly.

Jasper Crowe’s handsome face bore undisguised anger and fear. He almost grated his teeth, forcing out two words between his clenched teeth:

"Lunatic!"

Still unsatisfied, he punched him hard in the back, "I was a second late, just one second, and you’d have been smashed into mince to feed the stray dogs!"

Ian Kane’s lips carried an irreverent smirk, as if he hadn’t just returned from the brink of death.

He casually lifted his gaze, his eyes sweeping over the chaotic scene...