Orphan To Unbreakable Queen - Chapter 84: Chapter 84

Jacob realized then. They knew exactly who he was, and they weren't about to hold back.
Jacob's legs trembled uncontrollably as he stared at Bowen, too terrified to even attempt getting up from the ground.
Sure, Jacob kept throwing Bowen's name around every day, but deep down, he knew the truth—he was just himself, and his sister's status had nothing to do with him.
Bowen respected his sister, but that didn't mean he'd treat Jacob like he mattered.
He could flaunt Bowen's name all he wanted—most of the time, Bowen might just turn a blind eye. But if he ever truly provoked Bowen directly, there'd be no mercy.
Jacob staggered backward, trembling uncontrollably. He had designs on Aubree and only dared to act because he was gambling on Bowen's indifference toward her.
"Bowen, I'm sorry. I didn't know Aubree was yours—if I'd known, I never would've dared," he said.
Bowen remained silent, pressing his foot down on Jacob's calf with an impassive expression. Meanwhile, beads of cold sweat erupted across Jacob's forehead.
"Ah, Bowen, for my sister's sake, please spare me," Jacob said.
Bowen narrowed his eyes and said coldly, "Do you even deserve to mention your sister?"
"Mr. Turner, the cops are almost here," Ethan leaned in and whispered in Bowen's ear.
Ethan didn't bother to lower his voice, so Jacob heard everything. Trembling even harder, Jacob pleaded, "No, Bowen, just treat me like worthless trash and let me go. There's no need to make things so ugly between our families."
Bowen cast a disdainful glance at Jacob, who was cowering at his feet in terror, let out a mocking scoff, and completely ignored his pleas.
With deliberate slowness, he lifted his leg and turned to leave.
Jacob heaved a sigh of relief. As long as Bowen didn't touch him, the Timberlake family could easily handle the cops.
Before Jacob could fully calm his racing heart, Bowen's deceptively light voice drifted to him on the breeze.
Bowen said, "Can't even behave yourself, stalking girls every day. Since you are my friends, guess I'll have to teach you a proper lesson."
Jacob's face instantly drained of color. Everyone knew Bowen had the face of an angel, but a heart blacker than the devil's.
His words made it crystal clear. He was going to break Jacob's legs. Whether it was one or both would all depend on his mood.
Sure enough, just as Bowen's words fell, the sound of footsteps slowly drew closer.
Bowen ordered, "Samson, when the cops ask, go with them."
As Bowen's words faded, a blood-curdling scream tore through the night behind him.
Meanwhile, all hell broke loose at the Timberlake family's house.
Jacob was the Timberlake family's late-born son. Ever since their eldest daughter left, the whole family spoiled their only son to the point of lawlessness.
The police called, and it was Jacob's father, Gareth Timberlake, who picked up.
The police simply said that Jacob was involved in an incident and had been taken to the hospital, offering no further details.
Gareth was still at a business dinner when the call came. So shocked that his wine glass slipped and shattered on the floor, he rushed straight to the hospital.
Gareth demanded anxiously, "How's Jacob?"
The nurse confirmed his identity and said, "It's quite serious. Two ribs are broken, both legs are fractured, and there are multiple other injuries."
"Who did this?" Gareth bellowed, his vision blurring with rage. In Rithol City, the Timberlake family held considerable influence, not to mention that he was Bowen's father-in-law.
'Who on earth would dare lay hands on my son?' Gareth wondered. 'He's my only son, born late in my life—he's my lifeblood, my very foundation.'
"The police didn't say," the secretary reported.
Gareth's face was livid with rage, and the secretary who had followed him in was trembling uncontrollably behind him. "Call Chief Julien Rourke. Now," he barked.
Getting into trouble was nothing new for Jacob—he'd been at it for ages. Gareth had already spent a fortune greasing the right palms to keep things under control.
"Mr. Timberlake, he's not picking up," the secretary reported, voice trembling.
"No answer?" Gareth saw red, not stopping to think. He snarled, "So he won't pick up? Fine. Let's see which fucking bastard dared lay a hand on my son. Let's go. I'm coming to the station with you."
'Who the hell dares touch my son? They must be fucking tired of living,' Gareth wondered.
At the police station, Samson sat there, clutching a water cup, his face a picture of pure innocence. "Officer, you're asking me? I really wouldn't know. I was just driving by when I noticed that guy following a young girl.
"Our boss, bless his kind heart, thought he had bad intentions and told me to check it out. By the time I got there, the guy was already lying on the road, beaten half to death. My boss? It's Bowen."
The officers exchanged glances and said, "Mr. Turner?"
Samson said, "Why did I even call the cops? I honestly didn't realize at the time—only later did I find out this troublemaker was actually Mr. Turner's brother-in-law, you know?"
"So you're saying your presence at the scene was just a coincidence?" the officer asked skeptically.
There was barely any surveillance on that street—just a clip of Jacob leaving the bar, clearly tailing a girl, though her face wasn't caught on camera. Now that Jacob is in a coma, you're the only one we can question.
Samson feigned innocence. "I was just trying to be a Good Samaritan, but it backfired. You're not suggesting I was the one who beat him up, are you?"
"That's not what we meant," the police said.
The officer's lips twitched. Anyone with eyes could see that Jacob had been beaten to a pulp, but in all of Rithol City, very few had the power to pull that off.
'And, wouldn't you know it, the one sitting right in front of them was exactly that,' they wondered.
Samson continued, "For a bodyguard like me, I'm on call 24/7 to protect Mr. Turner. How could I just leave without his orders?
"If I actually laid hands on someone, wouldn't that mean Mr. Turner wanted him dealt with? Does that sound plausible to you?"
With no evidence, the police had no choice but to let Samson go for now.
As Samson was leaving the police station, he ran into Gareth, who was just arriving. They exchanged a brief glance—they were no strangers to each other.
Gareth's heart sank. 'Isn't that Bowen's man? What's he doing here?'
As he made his way over, Gareth's initial anger gradually subsided. A sense of dread crept in. 'This is bad,' he thought. 'Could that damn kid have actually provoked Bowen this time?'
But the next instant, his rage flared up again. 'So what if it's Bowen? That doesn't give him the right to beat my son within an inch of his life,' Gareth thought.
Samson walked straight past him without so much as a glance.
When he reached the duty room, only a handful of officers were inside.
"Mr. Timberlake, you're here. Please have a seat and relax. We just wanted to get your statement," the officer said.
"I don't give a damn about the details. Just tell me who laid hands on him." Gareth snapped. He wasn't about to sit around sipping coffee—he wanted answers now.
"Mr. Timberlake, we asked you here to let you know that the surveillance footage is missing. At the moment, we only have one eyewitness, and beyond that, there's not much else we can confirm," the officer said.
Gareth glared at them, refusing to back down. "You'd better think this through. Chief Rourke and I go way back."
The police, however, simply stuck to their original statement.
Faced with Gareth's furious threats, the officers exchanged knowing glances, their eyes gleaming with thinly veiled derision.
They'd lost count of how many times they'd had to clean up Jacob's messes. Every time, the Timberlake family would just buy their way out of trouble. This time, while they couldn't say for sure, it was clear Bowen's influence was definitely at play.
'If Gareth had really managed to get through to Chief Rourke, why would he bother coming down here in person?' they wondered.
"Mr. Timberlake, please calm down first. Chances are, Jacob was probably the one who started this," the officer said.
Gareth snapped, "Even if he was at fault, beating him to that extent—isn't that excessive self-defense?"
"All I want to know is—who the hell did this?" demanded Gareth.
"Honestly, we really don't know. And even if we did, we wouldn't be at liberty to disclose that information," the officer said.
The officers' derisive buck-passing made Gareth tremble with barely contained rage.
Gareth snapped, "Fine. You all just wait. I'm not done with you yet."
As soon as they left the police station, Gareth barked at his secretary, "Keep trying to get through to Chief Rourke. If he still won't answer, go pay him a visit in person—and don't forget to bring some gifts."
In Gareth's eyes, anything money could fix wasn't even worth a second thought.