"Does it hurt?" He frowned slightly, worry in his eyes, but his tone was cold.
Scarlett Yates didn't make a sound, tears silently flowed down her face.
The kick was heavy; the pain in her chest couldn't be ignored. The pain that was a five before, now felt like a ten because he was there.
Matthew Saxon looked at her pale face, pressed his lips tightly together. Anger flashed in his eyes—what he voiced though was blame: "You really have some guts, still daring to chase after him. Are you tired of living?"
Scarlett Yates didn't respond.
At that moment, she didn't think that much; she only wanted to get her bag back.
But she didn't expect that the bag snatcher would be so brazen, attacking her in broad daylight.
Although she seemed okay on the surface, Matthew Saxon was still uneasy. He waved down a taxi and told the driver to head to the nearest hospital.
Once in the car, Matthew Saxon placed Scarlett Yates on one side of the seat.
