Ensnared by Mafia, Days and Nights

The landscape blurred past the window as we swiftly approached the estate.

Upon Giselle's return, Sophie hurried over to inquire, "Ms. Lambert, dinner is ready and warmed. Would you like to eat now or prefer to bathe first?"

Giselle usually took a bath first thing after coming home, but today she had returned late, and Sophie was concerned she might be too hungry, which could upset her stomach.

"No need, I'm very tired today. Just take me to my room to rest," Giselle responded, her voice sounding strained.

Sophie hesitated, noticing an unusual tone in Ms. Lambert's voice, and cautiously offered, "Shall I call the family doctor?"

"No need," Giselle snapped back impatiently, "Just take me to my room."

Preferring not to engage further, Sophie complied, aware of how dearly Mr. Jefferson held her in regard.

Sophie accompanied Giselle to her bedroom, noting her unusual behavior as she seemed to survey the villa as though everything was foreign to her.

Yet, Sophie refrained from questioning, respecting her statement of feeling unwell.

Shortly after, Henry Jefferson arrived.

He handed his jacket to Sophie and casually asked, "Where's Giselle?"

After hanging the jacket, Sophie informed him, "Ms. Lambert wasn't feeling well and has retired to her room."

"Not feeling well?" Henry's brow twitched. He kicked off his leather shoes and rushed upstairs, not even bothering with slippers.

His affection for Giselle was deep; Sophie shook her head with a smile and went to prepare some porridge.

Henry opened the bedroom door, pausing at the sight before him.

The room was dim, lit only by a lamp casting light on a woman in a seductive dress, reclining on the sofa with her cleavage provocatively displayed.

Her face was hidden in the shadows, a wine glass in her hand with a deep red liquid that swayed with her movements.

Stepping forward, the sound of his bare feet thudded against the floor.

With each step, Giselle's posture became noticeably more rigid.

Before he reached the sofa, Giselle suddenly sat up, her face now fully illuminated under the lamp.

She was wearing a mask.

Henry looked at her silently, his lips pressed tightly together.

"Tonight, let's try a different kind of surprise. Have a drink with me," Giselle's voice was muffled as she offered him the wine glass.

Henry scoffed and moved closer, his intense eyes warning her.

She clenched her fists nervously, bringing the wine glass to his lips.

"Let me feed you, okay?" her voice trembled as she spoke.

Henry pushed the glass away with two fingers, his gaze filled with barely concealed menace, "Where is Giselle?"

Under the mask, Cynthia's expression crumbled.

Her teeth chattered in fear as if facing a demonic executioner.

Yet, despite her fear, she had to succeed.

After several deep breaths, she said, "Isn't it obvious? I'm right here in front of you."

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No sooner had the words left her mouth than Henry suddenly gripped her throat with terrifying force.

"I asked you, where is Giselle," he growled, his grip tightening.

Struggling to breathe, Cynthia could hardly speak, only managing to cough violently.

Annoyed by her coughing, Henry flung her to the ground.

Suddenly free, Cynthia gasped for air on the floor like a drowning victim.

Just then, a team of bodyguards burst in, and Assistant Cooper flicked on the main light.

With the room brightly lit, Cynthia still wore the provocative outfit, resembling some lascivious performance.

"Take her to the basement, find out where Giselle is," Henry ordered as he dialed a number on his phone, then instructed Assistant Cooper, "Get the university's surveillance footage. I want to know where Giselle went within the next half hour." His commands were calm and methodical, his voice steady.