To Evan, Ophelia was nothing more than a possession–something to tame, not treasure. She could throw a fit, but only within the limits he allowed.
So, with a smugness he didn’t bother to hide, he stepped forward, as if he could conquer Ophelia with nothing more than his charm and menace.
Half a minute later, a scream tore through the quiet hospital room.
The scream hit Lucien the moment he stepped off the elevator. He broke into a sprint.
By the time he burst through the door, Ophelia was already halfway undressed, her clothes in tatters, her face drained of all hope.
At that moment, Lucien no longer cared about any business dealings with Evan. He stormed forward, yanked the man off Ophelia, and shoved him back.
Unlike Lucien, Galen didn’t hesitate and rushed in after him. He had more reason to be furious, after all. He launched at Evan, fists swinging, consumed entirely by rage.
But Evan wasn’t one to quietly take a beating. Within moments, he had Galen pinned to the ground
with practiced ease.
Once the chaos began to dial down, Lucien regained his
Composure. He slipped off his suit jacket, wrapped it around Ophelia’s shoulders, and stepped in front of her, shielding her with quiet
resolve.
“You crossed a line, Mr. Vaughn.”
Evan simply adjusted his glasses, pausing to wipe a small stain from the lens. Then, he lifted his
gaze with casual contempt.
“My intention was merely to propose a deal. It was Ms. Marchand who backed out midway. Naturally, there’s a price to pay for walking away.”
His gaze swept over Ophelia, slow and deliberate.
Since the moment she hesitated earlier, Evan was made aware. This woman would eventually be his. Her resistance was only temporary.
Once Lucien disappointed Ophelia deeply enough, Evan believed she would willingly cast aside her dignity and pride.
“Ms. Marchand, I hope you found our little exchange enjoyable. I look forward to the next time.”
He knew no one in that room could touch him, and his voice dripped with arrogance.
But just as he reached the door, he stopped as if recalling something of importance.
“One more thing, Mr. Fenwick. I wasn’t the one who crossed the line. It was you who did. And someone’s growing resentful because of it. If you can’t tell the difference between loyalty and distraction, your precious wife won’t stop at mere jealousy. It could get a lot worse.”
With that, Evan turned and left, not bothering to look back.
Ophelia, still shaken, suddenly raised her head. Her voice trembled with suspicion. “What did he mean by that? Was it Calista? Did she send him here?”
She clutched Lucien’s sleeve with trembling fingers, desperate for an answer.
Lucien remained silent. He had never even considered the possibility.
After hearing the details, Astrid was convinced that Calista had done it. Fueled by jealousy, Calista had knowingly invited a vulture into their lives.
So Astrid picked up the phone and made the call, using threats, manipulation, and a full–blown. guilt–trip to force Calista into coming up to Ophelia’s room.
When she stepped through the door, Calista still had no idea what had happened. She assumed Astrid needed her help to take care of their beloved daughter.
But the moment the sharp slap landed across her cheek, she realized this wasn’t a call for help.
“Calista, take a good look at what you’ve done!”
Astrid was seething, her face twisted with rage. To an outsider, it might have looked like they were mortal enemies rather than family.
Calista’s lips twitched from the sting, pain spreading through her jaw.
“What the hell is wrong with you now?” she snapped.
This time, she didn’t stay quiet. She lifted her chin and stared Astrid down without so much as flinching.
Astrid was caught off guard by her resistance, then quickly turned around and dumped the problem onto Lucien.
“Lucien, I’ve done everything I can for this girl. But some flaws are so deeply rooted that you just can’t fix them. She’s cruel to the core. Honestly, the two of you should just get a divorce.”
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