Female Novel
Chapter 1348
Ian knew that if someone hadn't tipped off Abner, he'd probably be riddled with bullets by now.
Abner might be ruthless, but even he wouldn't take Ian's life at this moment.
That was the kind of circle Ian ran in.
He flashed Abner a grin and settled into a lounge chair nearby, letting the warm sunshine spill over him.
"Abner, this yacht of yours is something else. You sure know how to live it up."
Abner squinted his eyes, his fingers playing with the switchblade he always carried, when one of his
bodyguards spoke up, his voice quivering with fear, "Boss, Ms. Dorothy just called. She's asking when
you'll get there. She wants to have dinner with you."
The tension seemed to melt off Abner, and for a fleeting moment, he almost looked like spring had
touched his icy demeanor.
"Tell her I'll be there in three days."
It would take three days to get to the Olsons family—a ferry, then a plane ride, followed by another
ferry.
"Alright. Ms. Dorothy also said to take care of yourself."
A rare smile flickered across Abner's face. "Yeah."
Ian, who had been lounging, now propped himself up. For a split second, he thought he saw something
flicker in Abner's eyes.
In Greenfield, only a select few knew of the Olsons' existence. Anyone who heard Abner's name
trembled with fear. Omar had nearly wiped out the Cassons, forcing the old man into retirement on
some remote island. But Abner, he didn't even leave a whole corpse for his family to mourn.
Everyone knew that the bomb that had killed the previous heads of the Olsons was Abner's doing. It
was just too convenient that his parents, the ones with the real power, were the ones to die.
With their deaths, Abner was the only one left with a legitimate claim to the headship.
And the rumors about Abner's childhood were just as chilling. They said he was born under a bad star,
destined to bring death to all those around him. When he was just a babe, his birth mother nearly bled
to death, and his father was ambushed and left for dead. They sent Abner away immediately after.
Where he was sent, no one knew for sure. He was dumped in some backwater village.
A man raised in such circumstances couldn't possibly be gentle to anyone.
Yet, there it was, that touch of warmth on Abner's face. Ian watched for a moment, his mind racing.
There wasn't a family among Greenfield's elite that matched Dorothy's profile.
Surely, Abner wasn't preying on some ordinary girl?
Perhaps sensing Ian's gaze, Abner looked up. The warmth vanished from his face as quickly as it had
appeared, replaced by a familiar scowl.novelbin
He didn't tease Ian further. Instead, he settled into another chair, closed his eyes, and tuned out the
world.
Ian pulled out his phone. If Maja were here, she'd notice that there were no incoming calls logged.
No regular phone could reach this number—it would always ring unanswered.
But she trusted Phelps too much.
Ian scrolled through his chat with Maja. Their conversation wasn't long. It took him less than half an
hour to read through it, and he was left feeling empty.
Four hours later, the ferry docked. Next, a few hours on a plane.
Ian and Abner were seated in the same row, aboard the Olson family's private jet.
Abner looked out the window for a long time before speaking, "Last time you intercepted my shipment,
Fitch put in a good word for you. Now you're sneaking back into the country with Phelps's help. Ian, you
sure have a way with friends."
"Just take me to Fitch."
Only a handful of people knew Fitch's whereabouts—most of Greenfield thought he was dead.
The ferry's approach to the riverbank was quiet, too quiet. It was as if no one knew of his return.
Ian frowned. Had he been wrong to suspect Phelps all along?
After Augus had spilled the beans about Phelps, Ian wondered if someone familiar had blinded him,
leading to such fervent yet fruitless searches for the Sanders family's princess.
So, he'd hatched a plan to smuggle himself back into the country. As a notorious fugitive, if Phelps had
any ulterior motives, this would be the time to leak information to the authorities.
Ian faced two grim options:
One, get caught the moment he disembarked and have his freedom curtailed for life.
Two, leap into the river and try to evade the authorities on his own soil.
Neither choice was particularly appealing—they were both a gamble with his life.
If Phelps had another identity, now would be the time it came to light.
Ian was betting with his life, but it seemed he'd worried over nothing.
His brow furrowed as he stood on the deck, hesitant to disembark.
Abner, standing behind him, mocked, "Weren't you eager to see Fitch?"