Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You can’t afford me now

Chapter 984:

She couldn’t let Joy grow up the way she had.

She had to live. She must.

As a mother, she had no right to surrender—to abandon her child. “Joy, Joy…” Hadley repeated the name like a mantra, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her soot-streaked face.

Dragging herself across the floor, she reached for the gap in the door.

With trembling hands, she tried to widen it.

“Joy, Joy…” she whispered again.

But the iron door wouldn’t budge. She didn’t have the strength.

She screamed in frustration.

She was helpless.

“I tried, Joy… I tried… but I’m so useless…” she cried out in tears.

She clawed at the opening with everything she had. Her nails cracked. Blood oozed from her fingertips. Then her palms split open, skin torn, red streaks painting the metal. “Joy, Joy…”

Outside, Denver had just arrived. Firefighters had already sealed off the area and were battling the flames.

“You can’t go in!” one shouted. “The rescued are over by the ambulances—some have been taken to the hospital. You can check the list there!”

Denver rushed over. No Hadley. She wasn’t among the crowd. She hadn’t been taken to the hospital either.

She was still inside.

But they wouldn’t let him through.

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Denver frowned, thinking fast. He knew the dock—not well, but well enough. The Moran family leased space there. Maybe…

If he couldn’t go through the front, he’d go around.

He sprinted to the southeast corner.

There, facing the fire’s fury, he popped open his trunk. He grabbed a blanket and drenched it with water from several bottles until it was completely soaked.

Blanket over his head, he charged in.

He didn’t know for sure if Hadley was in there—the warehouse was vast. But he’d seen her kidnapped. He’d followed the clues here. He couldn’t just stand by.

Maybe—just maybe—she was still alive. And maybe he could reach her.

That tiny sliver of hope was all he needed.

He plunged into the smoke, dodging the fiercest flames.

Above, water rained down from firefighter hoses. The fire hadn’t grown worse—it was slowly shrinking.

Still, smoke curled through the air like living things.

“Hadley, Hadley!”

Denver lifted the blanket now and then, calling her name.

“Hadley! Can you hear me? If you can hear me, say something—anything!”

Hadley lay sprawled on the floor, barely conscious, clinging to life by a thread. Her mouth moved, struggling to form words. “Help… someone…” The whisper barely escaped her lips. Summoning what little strength remained, she raised her fist and pounded against the door.

The sound echoed through the smoke-filled space as she continued hitting the door, each strike weaker than the last. “Help… please…”

Somewhere beyond the chaos, Denver froze. His ears perked. He had heard something—faint, but unmistakable. He heard a voice!

Was it her?

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