Chapter 5
“Ahh!” Owen clutched his head, a string of curses spilling out as blood trickled down his forehead. His pudgy finger jabbed in my direction. “You crazy bitch!”
“Watch your damn mouth,” I snapped, cutting him off. My glare was ice–cold as I grabbed a jagged shard of glass from the
shattered bottle.
Pressing it against his throat, I leaned in close, my voice sharp enough to cut steel. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, owing money and acting like you own the place.
“Let me make this crystal clear–you’re paying back every dama cent, with interest. Right now. Call your accountant and transfer the money. Don’t make me repeat myself”
The hostesses screamed and scattered like frightened pigeons, their heels clattering against the tile as they fled.
Fueled by pure fury, I barely noticed the other men in the room My sole focus was on teaching Owen a lesson and getting the money Hinton Group was owed.
Owen, trembling like a cornered rat, fumbled for his phone. But before he could make the call, a sharp yank at my hair sent a jolt of pain shooting through my scalp.
Someone had grabbed me from behind, yanking me away from him. I gasped, stumbling as I tried to keep my balance.
Freed from my grip. Owen’s expression twisted with rage. He staggered to his feet, then swung his hand, slapping me across the face with enough force to whip my head to the side.
“You damn bitch!” he roared, his voice a mix of pain and fury. “You’ve got some nerve pulling this have a death wish?”
crap with me. Do you
Not satisfied with just one slap, he raised his hand again. Instinctively. I closed my eyes, bracing for the blow. But instead of pain the sound of his sleazy laugh sent chills down my spine,
“Well, well, Owen sneered, his beady eyes raking over me like I was prey, “Who would’ve thought Elijah’s little girl would
up to be such a knockout?”
My eyes flew open, dread coiling in my stomach. His lips curled into a twisted grin, and he gestured to the men behind him, “Strip her down.”
“Let me go!” I yelled, panic coursing through me as I twisted against the iron grip of the man holding me.
My voice cracked, desperation laced in every word. Tm Quinn Madden’s wife! If you lay a finger on me, the Madden family will destroy you!”
I clung to the hope that Quinn’s name would send them scattering. After all, the Madden family’s influence stretched across Enschester–most people wouldn’t dare challenge them.
But the liquor coursing through these men’s veins made them reckless.
“Quinn Madden? The man gripping my hair burst into a mocking laugh. “If your husband’s so powerful, why’d he let you come crawling here alone, begging for money?”
My stomach sank as his words hit home. I flinched as Owen stepped closer, his filthy hand reaching toward my chest. The room seemed to shrink around me, despair clawing at my throat I could see no way out.
Then–Bang The door to the private room flew open, slamuning against the wall with a force that rattled the whole space. A flood of light poured in, and the chaos screeched to a halt.
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Chapter 5
A group of security guards in black suits stormed in, moving like a well–oiled machine. Within seconds, they restrained everyone, including Owen, who yelped like a kicked dog.
And then, through the doorway, he appeared.
Quinn strode in, his towering figure silhouetted in the doorway, oozing authority. As he moved closer, his sharp, chiseled features came into focus, his piercing brown eyes narrowing slightly as they took in my disheveled state.
“Mr. Madden!” stammered the club manager, Samuel Spencer, scuttling forward like a man facing judgment day. His voice shook as he bowed low, sweat beading on his forehead. “It’s our ult–our negligence–almost caused harm to Mrs. Madden
“Almost!” Quinn’s voice was ice–cold, razor–sharp with menace. His gaze flicked to my face, lingering on the bright red mark Owen’s slap had left on my cheek. A muscle in his jaw tightened, his fury palpable.
“So, Samuel,” he drawled, his tone quiet but laced with danger, you’re telling me my wife deserved to be slapped?”
The room’s temperature seemed to plummet, silence stretchingas thick as the tension in the air.
Samuel’s face drained of all color as he bowed over and over, his words tumbling out in a panicked rush. “N–no! That’s not what I meant! Please, forgive me, Mr. Madden!”
Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and slapped Owen so hard the man staggered, nearly falling over.
Dazed and too stunned to react, Owen barely raised his hands in defense before Samuel struck him again. And again. Each slap echoed through the room like a gunshot,
Quinn didn’t so much as flinch, his arms crossed as he watched impassively. The silent tension in the room was suffocating. Samuel only stopped when Owen’s face swelled to a grotesque, unrecognizable state.
Satisfied, Quinn finally turned toward me. His deep, unwavering gaze lingered on my face for a beat longer than usual. Then, his commanding voice broke the silence. “Come with me
There was no room for argument, not that I had the energy to resist. Swallowing hard, I followed him out of the club, my legs feeling like jelly beneath me.
His sleek Bentley SUV idled by the curb, polished to a mirror shine under the streetlights. He opened the passenger door without a word, and I climbed in, the tension in the air so thick it was almost suffocating.
Inside, I sat stiffly, folding my hands in my lap. My mind raced, trying to piece together what to say. But what could I possibly offer? Quinn had never cared for excuses, much less my reasons. I managed a quiet, almost timid, “Thank
you
Quinn’s sharp profile gave no indication he’d heard me. His hands stayed steady on the steering wheel, his jaw tight and unreadable. The silence between us stretched thin, each second heavier than the last.
Sensing his mood, I pressed my lips together and turned to the window. The city lights blurred past as exhaustion tugged at me. Pregnancy had sapped what little strength I had left, and before I knew it, I was out cold.
When the car jerked to a stop. I blinked awake, disoriented. I hall–expected to be parked in front of the mansion. But instead, the towering white facade of a hospital loomed ahead.
Panic rippled through me. “Why are we here? What’s going on?
Quinn didn’t answer. His sharp, hawklike eyes locked onto mine his voice cold and unyielding. “Get out.”
Inside the treatment room, the doctor gently examined my swollen cheek, then handed me an ice pack. “Keep this on for thirty minutes, she instructed, her tone brisk but kind.
I murmured a quiet thanks, my fingers tightening around the cod pack as I glanced toward Quinn. He stood by the window,
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his tall frame bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights outside. His posture was as composed as ever, arms crossed and
Π
His expression was the same as always–cold, unreadable. But for the briefest moment, I thought I saw something different. Concern, maybe?
The thought vanished as quickly as it came. Quinn turned his head slightly, catching me staring. His voice cut through the room like ice. “No one can know about tonight. Stay out of sight until your face heals. Understood?”
Ah, there it was–the real reason he brought me here. Not out of care, but to keep the Madden family name untarnished.
To him. I wasn’t a wife–I was just an accessory. A shiny little ornament that couldn’t dare to show a single crack.
I swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment and nodded, keeping my voice neutral. “Understood.”
The room fell silent again, save for the distant hum of hospital machinery. Thirty minutes. It wasn’t much, but I found myself savoring the rare moment of being alone with him, even in this awkward stillness.
He stayed by the window, the sharp angles of his profile illuminated by the faint city lights. The stoic set of his jaw, the confident tilt of his chinit all felt painfully familiar.
Memories Fd worked so hard to bury threatened to resurface, dragging me back to a time when I still thought there was hope between us.
Quinn, why didn’t you tell me you’d be at the hospital? The soft, lilting voice cut through the silence like a dagge
I turned to see Diana stepping into the room, clad in a hospital gown, her flawless face touched with a delicate pallor. Her presence was like an unwelcome storm, sucking all the air from the room.
The moment her eyes landed on me, her face twisted into an expression of pure rage. “Natalia!” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “What the hell are you doing here? You killed my baby!”
Diana’s scream pierced through the room like a siren, and before I could react, she lunged at me. Her trembling hands grabbed my collar, shaking with rage.
I didn’t resist. Her grief, raw and jagged, hit me like a punch to the gut. As someone carrying a child of my own, I could feel the agony radiating from her. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over her cries.
But Diana didn’t care. Her face twisted with rage and heartbreak as she shrieked, “Sorry? Sorry doesn’t bring my baby back! You’ll pay for this, Natalia–you’ll pay for the rest of your miserable life!”
Before I could respond, Quinn rushed over, gently pulling her away from me and into his arms. “Diana, you need to rest,” he said, his tone low and soothing. “Don’t upset yourself. Let me take you back to your room.”
Diana sobbed, clinging to him like he was her lifeline. “Quinn, our baby, You promised me justice. You swore you’d make her pay
Quinn’s hand moved to stroke her hair, his voice dripping with reassurance. “And I will, Diana. Trust me. You’ll get the justice you deserve
staggered back, his words slamming into me with the force of a freight train. So he had promised her, Promised to punish me. My voice shook as I forced out, “I didn’t hurt her. She came at me first!”
Diana’s tear–filled eyes flickered with a flash of malice, so quick it might’ve been my imagination. She turned her face toward Quinn, playing the perfect victim. “She’s lying, Quinn! She’s always hated me. She wants me gonel”
I glared at her, the fire in my chest threatening to explode. “Should I remind you, Diana, of the vile things you said to me that day? Or would you rather I-
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“Enough!” Quinn’s voice cracked like a whip, silencing the room. His gaze, colder than ice, landed squarely on me. “Go home, Natalia. Now
The way he said it–like I was nothing more than a nuisance–hurt more than I cared to admit.
Diana buried herself deeper into his chest, her sobs soft and pitiful. But as Quinn turned away, holding her protectively, she glanced back at me with a smirk so sing it made my blood boil
Her performance was flawless. That teary–eyed, damsel–in–distress act could’ve won her an Oscar.
Without another glance in my direction, Quinn turned and walked out of the room, his arm wrapped protectively around Diana. She shot me one last triumphant look over her shoulder, the kind that screamed, You’ve already lost.
I stood frozen, staring after them as my vision blurred with tears I couldn’t hold back anymore.
Why? Why did Diana get to cry in his arms, basking in his comfort, while I–pregnant with his child–was left alone, stripped of even the right to be a mother?
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