Chapter 14 Turn the Tables

• The crowd gathered by Spencer was massive—easily two to three hundred people. He grinned coldly, convinced that with so many men, there was no way Finnley could escape unscathed.
• "Get him! Beat him to death!" Spencer roared, his arm raised high. "Whoever kills him gets a million dollars from me!"
• The promise of a hefty reward quickly riled up the crowd. Many of them, hardened and desperate, charged at Finnley with weapons in hand, eager to claim the bounty.
• With a loud bang, Finnley slammed the villa door shut. As the first few men rushed forward, he met them with a swift kick, knocking the lead attacker down instantly. But for every man he floored, another took his place, charging at him relentlessly.
• Worried, Madeline peeked out of a window, only to see a terrifying mob storming towards Finnley, yelling and swinging their weapons. Her face paled instantly. She wanted to open the door to help, but the villa was completely surrounded. With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and urgently dialed Noelle. "Noelle, help! There are a ton of people trying to hurt Finnley! You have to come quickly!"
• Noelle had just finished a meeting when she received Madeline's panicked call. Her expression immediately darkened. "Stay calm, and don't let anything happen to Finnley. I'm on my way!"
• As soon as Noelle hung up, she grabbed her radio and gave a firm command: "Emergency. All units, gear up. We're moving out now!"
• Outside, Spencer watched with bloodthirsty satisfaction as his men surrounded Finnley. "Beat him to death!" he roared again, convinced that he'd finally gotten the upper hand.
• But despite the overwhelming numbers, Finnley moved with ease. No matter how many people rushed at him, not a single one could leave a scratch on him. After all, he was wearing the outfit Noelle bought him—he couldn't let it get ruined.
• Suddenly, the sound of fabric tearing filled the air. One of the thugs had managed to rip the sleeve of Finnley's shirt.
• In an instant, Finnley's demeanor changed. His expression turned cold, filled with an ominous aura. With a powerful kick, he sent several attackers flying before grabbing the throat of the man who had torn his sleeve. His voice was dangerously low as he growled, "How dare you ruin the shirt my sister got me?!"
• The thug's face drained of all color, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He felt death closing in on him, and sheer terror washed over him. He was sure that in the next second, his life would be over.
• Just as Finnley tightened his grip, ready to finish him off, the wail of police sirens echoed in the distance. Finnley looked up and saw patrol cars pulling into the neighborhood. He released his hold, allowing the thug to crumple to the ground, gasping for air.
• Police officers poured out of the cars, armed with riot shields, quickly surrounding the chaotic scene. Noelle, looking fierce and authoritative in her uniform, stepped forward and barked out her orders, "All of you, fighting in public—arrest them!"
• "You wouldn't dare! Do you know who I am? I'm Spencer Fitzalan, heir of the Fitzalan family!" Spencer yelled, stunned that his plan had been foiled by the arrival of the police. He had brought so many men to ensure Finnley's demise, yet here Finnley stood, unharmed, while his own people were about to be hauled away.
• "I don't care if you're the king of the world," Noelle shot back coldly. "Take them all in!"
• Chaos erupted among the thugs as they realized the police had arrived. Some tried to flee by climbing over the walls, but they were quickly caught and dragged back.
• Amid the confusion, Noelle made her way to Finnley's side, her face filled with concern. "Are you okay?"
• Finnley smiled and nodded. He knew Noelle might seem tough on the outside, but deep down, she had a soft heart. No matter how harshly she acted, she always cared deeply for him. "I'm fine, but they ruined the shirt you got me," Finnley said, clenching his fists at the thought. If he had known, he would have dealt with that guy more quickly. That b*stard deserves death for ruining Noelle's gift!
• "It's just a shirt, Finn. I can buy you as many as you want. Don't worry. None of these thugs can hurt you. I'll make sure you're protected," Noelle said firmly, stepping in front of him and facing the mob. "Take them away!"
• Then she turned back to Finnley. "Finn, come with me to the station to give a statement. After that, we'll come home."
• Finnley nodded obediently, relieved that the situation was under control.
• Meanwhile, Spencer seethed with rage as he watched everything unfold. After being escorted into a police car, he called his uncle, his voice shaking with fury. "Uncle, you have to do something about this!"
• The Fitzalan family's power and influence ran deep, with connections to many powerful figures. Spencer's maternal uncle, a well-connected man, was outraged when he heard what had happened. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
• Back at the station, Noelle had the thugs processed and held for questioning. But to her shock, Spencer was released shortly afterward, escorted out by officers.
• "Chief? This isn't right," Noelle said, storming into the chief's office.
• The police chief had just finished a phone call when he looked up, his face red with anger. "Noelle, do you realize what you've done? You're a police officer, and your duty is to uphold the law. But today, you overstepped your bounds."
• "Chief, how did I overstep? If I hadn't intervened, Finnley would have been killed!" Noelle argued, standing tall.
• "The situation could have been handled differently. You know that," the chief said, knocking on his desk heavily.
• "Differently? There were hundreds of men attacking an unarmed civilian. Are we supposed to just stand by and let innocent people die?"
• "Enough!" the chief shouted. "Do you know how many complaints we've received because of your actions? You're supposed to be handling higher-priority cases, not brawls like this!"
• Noelle clenched her jaw. She didn't need to guess who had filed the complaints—Spencer Fitzalan.
• "You've set a bad precedent, Noelle. For the rest of this month, you're off regular patrol duty. Here," the chief said, shoving a folder into her hands. "These are ten A-level fugitives. If you're so determined to protect the public, go after them. And if you don't manage to bring them in within the month, you'll be out of a job."
• Noelle opened the file and frowned at the names and faces of the dangerous criminals. "A month?"
• "Yes, do you have a problem with that? You're the one with all the skills, right? Let me make it clear—if you don't capture every single one of these A-level fugitives in the next thirty days, don't bother coming back." The chief rubbed his temples, clearly irritated, and waved her off dismissively. "Now get out of my office."
• Noelle bit her lip, frustrated by the unfairness of the situation. But orders were orders. She had no choice but to comply.