"Why don't you go back to the conference, Klein?" Lucas dismissed her, his tone clipped.
If his father found out there hadn't been a single company representative from his side at the event, Lucas was dead meat.
This old secretary was really starting to get on his nerves.
But Nadia shook her head, refusing to move. "Oh, so now you care about the company?" she snapped.
"Maybe you should've thought of that before locking yourself in a room with her."
Lucas's jaw tightened. Nadia was acting off—like she forgot to take the right pills today.
Since when did anything he did have anything to do with her?
Lyra raised her hands and clamped them over her ears, refusing to hear Nadia's screams. That woman's voice was loud enough to make her eardrums explode.
She had nothing to do with Lucas or this crazy woman. Better not get involved.
Madness might be contagious.
Just as she turned to walk away, ready to escape this ridiculous mess, Nadia yanked her hair again—hard. The force made Lyra stagger backward and crash to the floor.
"Where the hell are you going, you whore?" Nadia snapped, shouting the words right above her while still gripping her hair.
She poured every ounce of scorn into the insult, determined to shame Lyra in front of everyone.
Lucas couldn't reach Lyra in time, but he dropped to his knees beside her the second she hit the floor.
"Lyra—" he reached out to help, but Lyra shoved his hands away, refusing to let him touch her.
Lucas's hand froze in mid-air. Slowly, he stood up, his expression turning cold as he glared at Nadia.
"I don't know what your problem is," he snapped. "But if you ever lay a hand on her again… you will be dead."
Lyra barely had time to catch her breath before a deep, commanding voice cut through the hallway.
"What the hell is going on here?" Rowan stood at the end of the corridor.
The air seemed to shift the moment he appeared.
His eyes darkened at the sight of Lucas Arden standing where Lyra had been on the floor, both of them looking disheveled.
"Well, there he is. Guess the hunt's over," he muttered, jaw clenched as he pushed through the crowd.
Lucas squared his shoulders the moment he saw Rowan. He immediately stepped in front of Lyra, shielding her from him.
He wasn't going to let Rowan take her.
Rowan let out a low, mocking laugh. "What is this supposed to be?" he asked sarcastically.
Damian and Kane exchanged uneasy glances behind him.
They knew that laugh.
When their boss laughed like that, things were about to get ugly.
Damian shot Kane a knowing nod, and Kane immediately quickened his pace, cutting in front of Rowan. His eyes were fixed only on his madam.
Kane hurried to Lyra and helped her to her feet.
"Madam, are you all right?" he asked, eyes landing on her swollen face.
She looked pale and weak, not responding at all.
"Who the hell are you calling 'Madam'?" Lucas snapped, glaring. "Don't touch her, or you will lose that hand."
Kane ignored the warning. Lyra's condition was getting worse. "She's not okay. We need to get her to a hospital, now!" he shouted.
Damian's jaw tightened. "Come on, let's move her," he barked, stepping in to help Kane.
Kane swooped his madam into his arms.
Damian moved ahead, pushing through the crowd to clear a path for Kane, who carried Lyra.
Urgency drove every motion as they tried to get her away, leaving their boss behind.
Meanwhile, Lucas and Rowan weren't listening. Their eyes were locked. The space between them charged.
The air felt like it might snap.
Nadia, desperate for attention, stepped forward.
"It was that woman's fault!" she cried. "She throw herself at Mr. Arden!"
That single sentence set Rowan off. He didn't even spare Nadia a glance.
His attention was locked on the bastard who caused all this chaos.
"If anything happens to her, you'll pay for it." Rowan said coldly.
Lucas's jaw tightened. "Why do you even care?" His voice dared Rowan to answer.
"She's my wife. Why wouldn't I?" Rowan responded calmly, but with a hint of disbelief—like Lucas had asked a stupid question.
Lucas scoffed, refusing to accept a single word. "Your wife? Don't fool yourself."
He leaned in, the little space between them shrinking even more. "Three years, Rowan. Three years with me. You really think she can switch her heart overnight?"
His hand shot up, grabbing a fistful of Rowan's shirt and dragging him closer—Rowan didn't break eye contact, not even for a second.
"You're just the guy she runs to when she's need shelter," Lucas hissed. "Once she cools down, she'll come back to me."
Rowan moved at the same time, gripping Lucas's collar and yanking him in until their foreheads nearly touched. Their eyes stayed locked, two loaded guns aimed straight at each other.
"Well…" Rowan murmured, each word low and dangerous, "we'll see about that."
Tension crackled between them.
Pride against pride, challenge against challenge. One more word and someone was going to snap.
Caught in the tension, they didn't even notice the elevator doors sliding open with a low chime.
Five figures stepped out, shadows spilling across the marble floor.
"Everyone, clear the area!" Victor's voice cut through the noise as he pushed the crowd back.
He was Albert Pierce's right-hand man, and even his tone carried authority.
Albert was behind him, shaking his head. His eyes were on Rowan, who was struggling to hold himself back.
His youngest son always solved his problems with his fists.
Albert exchanged a glance with Oliver, and in the next moment, both men stepped forward, grabbing their sons by the shoulders, ready to break it up.
"Enough, Lucas!" Oliver warned his son.
If Lucas didn't stop now, Oliver was ready to order Owen to drag him out by force.
"Rowan," Albert's tone dropped like a warning shot. "What's more important—your wife, or your damn pride?"
Victor pushing the crowd back, ushering them down the hall.
A few curious faces still peeked from behind doors not until Theodore, Rowan's elder brother, cast them a single cold glare.
One by one, the heads vanished. Silence reclaimed the corridor.
The two tempers stayed locked in that hold.
"Lucas!"
"Rowan.."
Both fathers warned in unison.