Female Novel
Chapter 1362
Phelps had his reasons for seeking out Jolin. First off, Jolin had once been used by Ian as a stand-in,
and her face bore a resemblance to Maja's.
But the most crucial factor was Jolin's background, mirroring Maja's. She had started at Crystalbrook
Academy before moving on to study fine arts.
Augus could easily verify these facts, realizing Phelps hadn't deceived him.
The photo Augus received had been taken by Phelps' orders well in advance. In fact, on the very day
Jolin got booted by Ian, someone had already approached her, spinning a tale that she was the lost
heiress of a wealthy family, promising untold riches and luxury if she complied.
Fresh from her fling with Ian and having glimpsed the high life, Jolin was dazzled by the glitzy world.
Without hesitation, she believed the story. She was eager to claw her way back to Ian, to topple Maja.
So Phelps had a makeup artist give her a look very much like Cynthia's, with particular attention to the
eyes.
Jolin's own eyes lacked resilience and wisdom; after all, she was driven by vanity.
But the makeup compensated for this, and fueled by her ambition to climb the social ladder, she
diligently practiced her demeanor.
Desperate to shed her current identity and become the heiress of rumors, she believed anything
Phelps told her.
Following him to North America and witnessing its splendor only deepened her trust in Phelps.novelbin
Little did she know, from the moment she was chosen, Phelps saw her as a pawn, a piece to be played
and one destined to be sacrificed.
Jolin was an outsider to this world, accidentally pulled in by Ian. But Phelps exploited her to the fullest.
That was his way – a master at manipulation, leaving his pawns to die with dreams of happiness.
Until her last breath, Jolin believed she was on the verge of a life among the elite.
She had no idea that the distance to Augus, a mere few miles, was a road she'd never travel.
Phelps' lips curled into a smirk as the doctor removed the bullet from his shoulder and tossed it into a
nearby tray.
The doctor then dressed the wound, advising him to avoid water for a while.
Maja stood by, rejoining him in the car once the doctor finished.
Phelps asked, "Feeling tired? Rest when we get back. Tonight, the true Sanders heiress passed away
– Dylan's handiwork. I bet Mr. Sanders has been rushed to the hospital too. Who knows how he'll
handle his eldest son now."
Maja said nothing, her frown deepening, her dislike for Dylan growing stronger.
So he had really done it – struck down his own sister.
"Dr. Herrington, does that mean Mr. Sanders never got to see his daughter one last time?"
"Seems so, fate can be cruel."
After saying this, Phelps gently took her hand, his fingertips softly caressing hers.
Maja tried to pull away.
Long ago, someone else had played with her fingers like this, kissing them childishly, occasionally
biting hard.
She recoiled, withdrawing from Phelps.
"Don't like this?"
She couldn't quite place the feeling, but the name Ian resurfaced, no longer bringing happiness but
panic.
Struggling to remember, yet with each passing moment, the memories grew fainter.
"Dr. Herrington, when will you take me to Ian?"
"Ian's on his way back to North America. Should be here in two days. I'll take you to him then."
Relieved, Maja wriggled her hand free from his grasp.
"Can you let go of me?"
"Maja, you need to get used to this."
"Why?" Confusion clouded her eyes.
Phelps twirled the ring on his finger, a subtle suggestion.
There was once a skilled hypnotist who, in seventy-two hours, turned an ordinary person into an
assassin.
An assassin of this caliber had gunned down a president, a case that shocked the nation. That was the
power of a top hypnotist.
"Don't you remember? You said you'd follow my lead."
Phelps exuded a calm and refined air, undiminished even by his injury.
He carried an air of elegance, fingers interlaced, his gaze resting lightly upon her.
Maja lowered her lashes, suddenly docile.
"I understand."