Chapter 2

Behind me, Margaret's curses, Edward's shouts, Vivian's fake sobs, and Michael's furious roars echoed through the hallway.

Edward yelled, "Charlotte. If you have the guts to walk out, don't even think about begging us to take you back. In Jelasburg, you're on your own. No one will come to your rescue."

I pushed open the heavy doors of the hotel. Outside, the rain was absolutely pouring.

Standing on the steps, I stared at the neon lights of the city, drenched from head to toe. Suddenly, my phone buzzed hard in my pocket. An unknown private number flashed on the screen.

I hit answer. On the other end, a voice, stern yet trembling, came through, carrying twenty years of pent-up longing.

"Is that Charlotte? It's Dad. I'm here to pick you up."

I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Dad? I don't have one anymore. I just cut him out of my life."

"No, Charlotte. It's Richard."

My hand froze around the phone. "Richard Quinn? The guy who's always topping the rich list, the one everyone calls the Shipping tycoon?" I muttered.

The sky suddenly erupted with a thunderous rumble.

Blinding searchlights pierced through the downpour, flooding the hotel's front plaza with light. Five private helicopters, each marked with the Quinn Group's gold-and-black logo, hovered above like monsters, their rotors whipping up wild gusts as they slowly landed.

Traffic on the whole street froze. Hotel guests poured outside, drawn by the chaos.

Margaret, Edward, Michael, and Vivian squeezed together in the crowd, staring up, stunned by the jaw-dropping spectacle.

"Wh-who is this big shot?" Edward stammered, his voice shaking.

The door of the helicopter in the center swung open. A middle-aged man in a top-tier bespoke suit, his temples streaked with gray and an aura that could silence a crowd, ran out into the pouring rain, ignoring everything as he rushed straight toward me.

Lined up behind him were two rows of grim-faced bodyguards in black, so many you couldn't count them all.

The man dashed up to me. With everyone watching in shock, he stripped off his coat and wrapped it tightly around my drenched body, shielding me from the rain.

He looked at my swollen cheek, and his eyes instantly turned murderous. "Who did this to you?"

He turned, locking his gaze on the Summers family, who were still stunned.

"Welcome home, Miss Quinn." Hundreds of bodyguards bowed in perfect sync, their voices echoing like thunder, shaking the night, and overpowering even the storm.

Vivian's hand trembled, and her wine glass dropped with a sharp smash, shattering into pieces on the floor.

The rain kept pouring, pounding the hotel's marble steps and kicking up plumes of white steam.

Richard's broad suit jacket was draped over me, heavy and full of that reassuring tobacco smell. His hand shook as he tried to touch my swollen cheek, but stopped halfway, afraid he'd hurt me, his fingers frozen in midair.

"Charlotte, does it hurt?" His voice was rough, trembling with the kind of anger you can barely keep down.

I didn't say anything; I just shook my head, feeling numb. In this family, getting hit was just routine. Whenever Vivian smashed an expensive vase, I took the fall. Whenever Edward failed a test and got moody, I got slapped. I was used to it.

But the chill in Richard's eyes was so cold it felt almost tangible. He turned abruptly, fixing Margaret with a piercing stare as she tried to stay out of sight behind the crowd.

"Who did this?" His voice wasn't loud, but the authority in it made it clear he was in charge. The noisy entrance went dead silent in an instant.

Margaret's legs buckled under the pressure, nearly sending her to the floor. Edward puffed up his chest and stepped forward, still clueless about who Richard really was. He just assumed I'd hooked up with some rich old geezer to back me up.

"Who are you supposed to be? All dressed up like you own the place, playing the mob boss?" Edward sneered, pointing at the helicopters.

"Charlotte, is this your sugar daddy? He's old enough to be your dad. Well, since you're rolling in cash now, go buy Vivian's house and hand over 15 million to our family—"

Before Edward could finish, one of Richard's bodyguards in black lunged forward and delivered a brutal slap across his face. The force knocked Edward halfway around and sent him to the ground, his mouth full of blood.

"Watch your mouth," the bodyguard said.

"Help. They're killing us," Margaret screamed, rushing over to Edward. "What gives you the right to hit him? Don't you people know the law?"

Michael strode over, frowning at Richard. He thought he'd seen that face in some finance magazine, but there was no way Charlotte could be connected to someone so powerful.

He said, "Sir, I'm the CEO of Tate Group. I don't know who you are, but this is our private business, so I advise you to mind your own business."

Michael tried to act all refined, putting on a show for the bodyguards like he was some big shot.

Richard gave a cold chuckle. He pulled out a spotless white handkerchief and wiped the rain off his hands from helping me.

"Tate Group?" He tossed the handkerchief onto the ground, letting it get drenched in the rain. "Give me five minutes. I'll make sure Tate Group disappears from Jelasburg for good."

"That's rich," Michael snorted, like he'd just heard the punchline to a bad joke. "Make Tate Group disappear? Who the hell do you think you are, Richard or what?"

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps ripped through the crowd. William Gold, the richest man in Jelasburg, who just minutes ago was basking in flattery at the main table, came stumbling and scrambling out of the hotel, practically falling over himself in his rush.

His tie was twisted, one shoe was gone, and all that usual swagger and authority had vanished. He looked like a mess, nothing like the big shot everyone knew.

"M-Mr. Quinn." William Gold slammed down at Richard's feet, but the slick ground sent him sliding a good 3 feet, landing right against Michael's legs in a heap.

Michael froze. "Mr. Gold, what are you doing? Get up, this old guy—"

"Shut the hell up." William backhanded Michael with a slap that echoed, trembling so hard he could barely stand. "This is Richard, the CEO of the global Quinn Group. If you've got a death wish, don't take all of Jelasburg down with you."

The moment Richard's name was uttered, the crowd was stunned, like they'd been hit by a thunderclap.

Richard was the Shipping tycoon who controlled the lifeblood of global trade. With just a word, he could bring Jelasburg's economy to its knees.