An Unwelcome Reunion and a Hostile Abduction

Bertha's immediate response was to scream, "Ah! … Mmph!" But the man reacted quickly, clamping his hand over her mouth, snarling, "Shut up, you tramp! Screaming like that—I just got out of prison, and this is how you welcome me?"

Bertha, muffled, gestured for him to loosen his grip. As soon as he released her, she took in deep breaths, gasping, "Hah… Hah… I'm not happy to see you at all. Don't ever come looking for me again. We broke up ages ago."

The man sneered. "Broke up? I bet you're just looking to snag yourself a rich guy, aren't you? Otherwise, what are you doing in a place like this?"

Hearing this, Bertha's face tightened at the implication, as though he'd hit a nerve by mentioning her intentions.

This upscale café was indeed a hotspot for the wealthy and powerful—millionaires, politicians, and at the very least, high-ranking officials' assistants. It was no secret she'd gone through all sorts of trouble to land a job here, hoping to meet someone with deep pockets.

But so what? If she didn't look for a rich man, was she supposed to stay with someone like him, a useless lowlife with nothing to offer?

Even if she only ended up as some rich guy's fling, she'd make far more than she ever could staying with this deadbeat.

No! As long as she stuck around this guy, she'd gain nothing. He wasn't even willing to try for a better life!

Remembering their past, Bertha squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, glaring at him defiantly. "So what if that's true? Let me tell you, Bruce Wayne himself is sitting out front right now. Think about the difference between you and him. Stop harassing me and get out of here—I have no money to give you."

"Bruce Wayne is here?" The man's eyes lit up instead of showing any anger.

"Yes," the woman replied, still confused by his reaction but giving a definite answer nonetheless.

Thinking of his current state—penniless, homeless, worse off than he'd been in prison—the man's mind began to turn over a few ideas.

Harvey, meanwhile, said nothing to Bruce's encouragement, though he was surprised by the wealthy playboy's apparent conviction. Bruce seemed nothing like the idle, naive billionaire of rumor, and Harvey found himself mentally scoffing at the gossip that had led him astray.

He was about to continue their conversation when a ringing sounded from his pocket. Answering, he heard his girlfriend, Gilda, on the other end. She'd been held up at the hospital and now needed him to pick her up.

Without hesitation, he agreed, hung up, and pocketed his phone before turning to Bruce. "My girlfriend needs me to pick her up. My apologies, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce waved it off with a smile. "Of course. Don't keep your girlfriend waiting."

Harvey smiled, turning to pay for his coffee, only to be told that the bill had already been covered. He looked back at Bruce, who was sitting by the window with his coffee, hesitated a moment, and then headed out to pick up Gilda.

Once he reached his car, however, he found it wouldn't start. Frustrated, he checked under the hood, only to discover an issue with the engine. Exasperated, he slammed his fist down on the car and opened the door, hoping to flag down a taxi to get to the hospital.

"What's wrong? Car trouble?" came a voice.

Bruce had walked over.

Traffic was sparse, and Harvey had been waiting in vain for a taxi. "Yeah, something like that," he replied, feeling a little deflated.

"If it's urgent, I can give you a lift. I don't have any plans," Bruce offered.

Relief flashed across Harvey's face. "Thank you, Bruce. I won't say no—Gilda's waiting."

"No need to thank me."

Bruce said this as he motioned for Harvey to get into his car, then started driving toward the destination, following Harvey's directions.

Partway there, Bruce noticed a white van in the rearview mirror that seemed to be following them. He tensed slightly, but a few moments later, the van turned off down a side street, easing his concern. He sighed, slightly annoyed with himself for being so paranoid.

Soon, they arrived. Bruce parked on the side of the road as Harvey pulled out his phone, calling his girlfriend and murmuring sweet words while glancing across the street.

Following Harvey's gaze, Bruce spotted a beautiful woman waving enthusiastically from the other side of the road. Bruce smiled, his mind drifting momentarily to thoughts of Avery. But just as his attention shifted, a group of men suddenly appeared out of nowhere, quickly surrounding him and Harvey.

The leader, a rough-looking man with a buzz cut, was flanked by his similarly buzz-cut cronies. A dozen large men closed in around them, brandishing firearms. The guns looked low-quality, but their sheer number made up for it.

Bruce silently evaluated the situation, making a mental note to add a new element to his "Bruce Wayne" persona: self-defense classes. After all, how was he supposed to fight off ten or more thugs without a cover story for knowing such skills?

As for Harvey…

Bruce stole a quick glance at him and had to admit that the man hardly seemed the type to fight his way out of a hostage situation.

The leader of the gang pointed at them, speaking to one of his men.

"This guy's Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes, boss, that's him!" the other thug replied confidently.

The leader then nodded toward Harvey. "And this guy?"

His underling hesitated. "Uh… I don't know him."

"It doesn't matter! Grab both of them!" The leader waved his hand dismissively, and the gang swarmed forward.

In seconds, Bruce and Harvey were shoved into a white van, bound and gagged as Harvey's terrified girlfriend Gilda watched from across the street. She stood frozen, then pulled out her phone and began dialing for the police as the van sped away, leaving only Bruce's car behind.

Meanwhile, in the van…

Seated in the back, the two men—tied up tightly—exchanged glances.