Chapter 4
The moment Quinn’s words hit me, I knew exactly what he meant. Without a word, I silently walked into the bathroom.
When I stepped out, wrapped in a towel, the bedroom was steeped in darkness, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through
the curtains.
Before I could react, a strong arm shot out of the shadows, yanking me onto the bed.
Startled, I froze as Quinn loomed over me. his sharp eyes glinting in the dim light. He studied me in silence for what felt like an eternity before finally speaking, his voice as cold and detached as ever.
“You want a divorce, right?” he said, his tone laced with icy detachment. “Fine. Do as I say, and I’ll make it happen.”
I swallowed hard, forcing the question out. “What do you want me to do?” My mind raced, recalling his earlier conversation with his grandfather.
A child. He wanted me to have his child.
“Diana’s child…” My voice faltered, the image of her collapsing flooding my mind–the bright, bloody stain spreading across
the floor.
“You owe her that,” he said flatly, his words devoid of emotion but hitting like a punch to the gut. “So you’ll make up for it. Once there’s a child. I’ll leave you and your family alone. No strings, no trouble. Natalia, this is the best deal you’re going to
get.”
How effortlessly he spoke, as if life could be traded like a simple transaction. Diana’s child was gone, and now Quinn wanted to use mine to fill the void–as if a baby could be a replacement commodity to settle debts.
My chest tightened painfully, the air around me feeling heavy and suffocating. The unspoken question I had buried deep inside was finally answered, and it shattered what little strength had left.
But somewhere in the swirling storm of anger and despair, a flicker of relief glimmered faintly. At least Quinn didn’t know about my pregnancy. Not yet.
“You think I’d agree to something so shameless?” My voice trembled with fury, and I pushed against him with all the strength I had.
My hands braced against his chest, shaking as anger coursed through me. My child–our child–would never be reduced to a bargaining chip.
Quinn let out a low, scornful laugh, the sound dripping with derision. “Natalia,” he said coldly, his eyes narrowing, “don’t overestimate yourself. And don’t even think about challenging me.”
Before I could respond, he yanked the towel from my body in one swift, unapologetic motion. His lips crashed against mine, rough and unyielding, as if he was intent on erasing my resistance with his sheer force.
His touch burned against my skin, every movement more demanding than the last, and Leould feel the heat of his frustration radiating through me.
For the past two years, this had been my reality–his furious, punishing need, the way he used me as his outlet. It wasn’t affection; it was ownership.
And yet, no matter how rough he was, my body betrayed me. It always had. A shiver ran down my spine as I responded to him instinctively, helpless against my own feelings.
Pathetic, isn’t it? That’s what loving someone who doesn’t love you back does–it leaves you raw, desperate, willing to bury your pride just for a fleeting moment of connection. You become a shadow of yourself, clinging to the hope that one day.
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Chapter 4
they might look at you and finally see you.
But this time, it wasn’t just me. There was someone else now–fragile, innocent, and entirely dependent on me. The tiny life inside me deserved more than this, more than being a pawn in Quinn’s cold games.
Could you… be gentler?” I whispered, barely audible, my voice tinged with both fear and fragile courage. I couldn’t protect myself from him, but maybe I could protect the baby. Maybe.
Quinn froze for a moment, his gaze sharp and unreadable as his eyes bore into mine. Then, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, dark and taunting. “Gentler?” he echoed mockingly, his tone Inced with amusement,
As if to answer. he resumed without hesitation, his touch rougher than before, as if mocking my plea. The cruelty in his movements was deliberate, a reminder of who held the power between us.
I bit down hard on my lip, swallowing the cries that threatened to escape. I couldn’t let him know the truth–not now, not like this. The life growing inside me was my secret, one I had to protect at all costs.
An hour later, Quinn finally seemed satisfied. He climbed out of bed, dressing without a glance in my
directio
“It’s so late. Where are you going?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, though deep down, I already knew the
answer.
Diana, who had just suffered a miscarriage, was still in the hospital. Of course, he wouldn’t leave her there alone. He’d only come home to pitch his twisted surrogacy plan to me.
Quinn shot me a cold look, the heat of earlier replaced with his usual indifference. “Where I go is none of your concern. He urmed on his heel, striding out of the room without another word.
The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the room, mocking me. I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my chest hollow with the weight of realization.
Mrs. Madden. The title was nothing but a cruel joke. I was just the woman he barely tolerated, a name on a marriage certificate that meant nothing.
Slowly, I rested my hands on my belly, a small flicker of warmth cutting through the cold despair. “At least I have you, baby,” I whispered softly. “You’ll stay with me. You’re the only one who will.”
The next morning, my phone buzzed, Jenna’s frantic voice spilling through the line, laced with panic and tears.
“Natalia! You have to help your father! The police took him away because of that construction site accident. The workers‘ families are outside our house, screaming for money!”
“Mom, calm down. I’ll be there as fast as I can,” I assured her, already grabbing my keys.
When I pulled up to the Hinton villa, the scene was pure chaos.
Outside the gate, a mob of construction workers waved a massive red banner with bold white letters screaming: Blood for blood! Pay your debts!
Getting through the crowd was like threading a needle. The security guards had to step in just to clear enough space for my car to crawl through.
Inside the living room, Jenna and Skylar sat huddled on the couch, looking like ghosts–pale, shaky, and overwhelmed.
“Mom, what’s going on?” I asked, striding toward them.
Jenna’s bloodshot eyes filled with fresh tears, her voice trembling with anger and panic. “Those workers‘ families have completely lost it! They’re not just asking for compensation anymore–they’re demanding your father show up at the victim’s funeral and bow in apology!
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“Of course, he refused, things got heated, and then… then they went and called the cops!”
Skylar, frowning, chimed in like it was the simplest solution in the world. “Nat, you’ve got money, right? Just pay them off and get Dad outta there.”
Jenna grabbed my hand like a lifeline, her desperation practically vibrating through her grip. “Your father told me you’d handle this. Please, tell me you brought the money!”
I lowered my gaze, my chest tightening. “Mom… I don’t have that kind of money right now…”
Before I could even finish, she shoved my hand away, her voice rising in anger. “What? Are you just going to let him rot in jail! Natalia, your father loved you, and now you’re turning your back on him? How could you be so ungrateful?”
Her words hit like a slap to the face, and then she broke down into sobs, each one slicing through me like a knife.
Skylar, ever the perfect picture of loyalty, handed her mom a tissue, then turned to me with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
Her voice was dripping with disdain as she sheered, “Natalia, how could you? After everything Mom and Dad have done for you? You’re not even a real Hinton, and they still took you in, raised you for twenty years, gave you everything.
“And now you’re throwing it all away over some money? Seriously? This is nothing compared to what they’ve done for you. Or are you just going to stand by and watch Dad suffer?”
Jenna’s accusations hit hard, dragging up all the memories of the love and care she used to show me. My chest felt tight, but I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to stay composed. Tll handle it,” I said, my voice firm but calm. “Don’t worry, I won’t let Dad go to jail.
As soon as I left, I jumped into my car and headed straight for the Hinton Group offices. The place was a mess–panic in the air, employees whispering in corners.
A death on the construction site and the CEO’s arrest had thrown everything into chaos.
I wasted no time. First stop: the legal team. ‘Get my father out on bail, I told the in–house attorney, “Do whatever it takes.”
Then, I made my way to the finance department. “Jack, how much money do we have left in the accounts?” I asked the CFO, Jack Compton, hoping for some good news..
Jack let out a heavy sigh. “Ms. Hinton, the accounts are drained. Your father dumped every last cent into that construction project
His words hit me like a ton o
of bricks. I stared down at the financial reports, my mind racing to find a way out of this mess. “What about our other projects? Can we chase down any payments immediately?” I asked.
Jack perked up, scrolling through files on his computer. After a moment, he pulled up a document. “Faraway Media Group still owes us 150 thousand dollars, but they’ve been dodging us for months.
150 thousand dollars. It wasn’t nearly enough to fix everything, it it could buy me some time.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and called Owen Stanton, the VP of Faraway Media Group, the one who’d been dealing with Hinton Group. After a few rings, he picked up.
“Who’s this? The slurred, his voice barely audible over thumping bass and loud chatter in the background.
“This is Natalia Hinton, Elijali Hinton’s daughter. Mr. Stanton, father’s in serious trouble. I need Faraway to settle their overdue payment of 150 grand immediately.”
There was a pause before he let out a loud, drunken burp, “Natalia? Oh, if you want money, meet me at Midnight Club,
Chapter 4
Room 3. We’ll talk there. He slurred the words, and the line went dead with a sharp click.
After hanging up, I drove straight to Midnight Club. The place was packed, the pulsing bass of the music rattling my nerves as I stepped into Room 3. The air reeked of booze, smoke, and sweat.
Inside, Owen sat sprawled on a velvet couch, surrounded by a group of equally drunk men and scantily clad women draped over them like clinging vines.
His bloated frame, stuffed into a rumpled suit, screamed excess. Empty bottles littered the floor, and their off–key singing added to the chaos,
“Mr. Stanton, I’m Natalia. We spoke earlier,” I said, keeping my tone polite as I approached. “Could we step outside to discuss the payment?
“What’s there to talk about? You need money, right? Easy fix. Finish this bottle,” he said, slamming a beer down on the table
with a smirk.
“Sorry, I don’t drink,” I replied, forcing calm into my voice as I buried the rising anger.
Owen snorted, eyes narrowing as he sized me up. “No drinking? Then maybe you’d prefer keeping us company instead?” His hand crept up my thigh with a greasy grin. “Make me happy, sweetheart, and I’ll throw in a bonus on top of the balance.
I slapped his hand away, but when he grabbed my arm, my patience snapped. Just because I came here to negotiate didn’t mean I was a pushover.
Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest beer bottle and smashed it over his head with a loud crack.
