Facade of Love

Chapter 33 Wounded

Before I could react, I saw Benett’s wife pull out a tiny sharp knife, no bigger than a pen, and lunge at Moore and Idris. Moore was the first to notice her, and she screamed.

Idris reacted very quickly. Before the knife could reach him, he grabbed a hold of it. The handle was not long, and given his strength compared to the average woman’s, it was no challenge. He took hold of her wrist with his other hand. She instinctively let go of the knife due to the pain and was pushed to the ground.

As this happened, the cafe immediately descended into chaos, and the security personnel outside quickly came in, restraining Benett’s wife and then calling the police.

“Iddy, you’re bleeding,” Moore said, looking at Idris’s hand that was holding the knife handle. There was a distressed look on

her face.

I glanced over and saw that Idris was indeed injured. Although the knife was small, it was extremely sharp, and even with his quick reaction, Idris had gotten cut.

Fortunately, it was only a hand wound. I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Smackd! With reddened eyes, Moore walked up to Benett’s restrained wife and slapped her across the face, angrily exclaiming, You mad woman. We have no grudges against you, so why attempt to kill us?!”

Moore did not try to restrain her strength, and it left the woman’s mouth bleeding.

glaring at her and

H

have quite the tolerance. I wouldn’t be satisfied even killing these adulterers a hundred times over. If I were you, I would’ve cut them into a million pieces to

from her husband’s disgusting actions, I took a slight breath and did

arrived, and after understanding the situation, prepared to take

called out to the leading

seemed to be a few years older than me. He looked

call him. I simply said, “She killed her husband, and the b*dy should be in the trunk of a blue BMW in the Spring Hallmark residential complex right now. You

so were

to take Benett’s wife back to the

had me accompany them. Idris was wounded, and with her face full of worry, Moore softly insisted on taking him to the hospital. However, he ended up coming with

so

attention to him, but in the car, he suddenly looked at me and asked, “How do you know

me herself,” I replied, trying my best not to look at the wound on his hand. I

exposed the bloody wound for all to see. It was a ghastly sight. He looked at me as

to look at his bloody wound, so I looked away and said impatiently, “She killed the