Chapter 5 Real Bullying

Adrian Quinn opened the door, his face dark with anger. The room reeked of alcohol. On the coffee table sat several bottles of rare wine—each worth millions—that he had treasured for years. Now, one of them was completely empty. A petite woman lay sprawled on the sofa, cheeks flushed, cursing a man, occasionally mentioning "Mr. Quinn." The place was a mess. A flicker of displeasure crossed the man's sharply defined, cold features. Had she revealed her true self so soon after their marriage certificate was signed? Hearing the noise at the door, Lila Cross turned her head with a hiccup. "Who are you?" Dazed and drunk, she staggered to her feet and stumbled toward the figure in the doorway. A man—high nose, thin lips, sharp brows, his features as cold and precise as if carved by a blade. A strikingly handsome man. Just as handsome as Charles Jackson. No, he *was* Charles Jackson… How dare he show his face to her again! Lila pouted in fury, raised her hand to slap him—only to have her wrist caught. Adrian's icy eyes narrowed slightly. "How much did you drink?" Her body went limp in his grip, swaying unsteadily. "I didn't drink anything…" Then, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Charles, I've missed you so much." Her face was flushed, innocent and tender like a girl in love, her voice soft and sweet. "Charles, don't think I'm dirty, okay? I didn't mean to…" Her tears soaked through his thin shirt, dampening the firm muscles of his torso. Adrian frowned, his expression colder than a stormy sky. He looked down at her. Her small hands clung tightly to his waist, childishly endearing. Yet her eyes, full of affection, saw not him—but another man. And her red lips called out the name of someone else. Without a word, he swept her into his arms and strode upstairs. In the upstairs bathroom, the bathtub was filled with hot water—water Lila had prepared earlier for Adrian. Now, it was icy cold. "Splash!" The unconscious, drunken woman was unceremoniously dumped into the tub. Her white T-shirt clung tightly to her body when soaked, outlining her slender curves. Even though the water was freezing, Adrian felt a strange warmth radiating from her. He had always disliked women. Ever since he'd hurt that woman five years ago, he'd developed an instinctive aversion to the opposite sex. No woman could touch him—not even his own sister. But tonight, being embraced and pressed against by this drunken little fool, he felt no disgust. In fact, there was a faint… pleasure. "So cold…" The woman shivered in the tub. She'd drunk too much strong liquor. The cold water didn't sober her—it only made her bolder. "Charles." Lila lay limply in the tub, weakly calling his name. "I'm so cold." She reached out, grabbing the hem of Adrian's pants. "Hold me, okay?" Her eyes were innocent and dazed, her face flushed. She looked at him with a coquettish pout. "Will you carry me out? I'm so cold, so cold…" Her voice rose at the end, sweet and velvety, like a thread of melted chocolate, brushing over Adrian's heart. He hadn't felt this in a long time. He had to admit—she was different. But still, she kept calling that man's name: Charles. He crouched down, gripping her chin with one hand. "Who am I?" Lila pursed her lips. "You're Charles." In her drunken haze, she saw only Charles. Adrian's eyes darkened dangerously. In one swift motion, he shoved her head underwater. The icy water engulfed her, but she still couldn't regain her senses, flailing helplessly in the tub. After a moment, he released her. His frigid gaze locked onto hers. "Now tell me—*who am I*?" "Xan… der." He pushed her under again. Lila choked, tears streaming down her face. She looked up at him, eyes brimming. "Then tell me—who are you?" Adrian reached out, tracing her smooth lips. "Call me *husband*." The woman whimpered. "Husband…" That single word sent a long-forgotten surge of desire through Adrian. Lila reached out, cupping his face, tears still glistening. "Don't make me stay in the cold water anymore." "I called you husband. You can't punish me now." She was already breathtakingly beautiful. Now, drunk and tearful, she looked like a crimson rose waiting to be plucked. Adrian gazed at her, voice husky. "You little drunkard." "You know what punishment is?" Lila blinked, her innocent eyes hazy, and shook her head. His voice dropped, rough with desire. "Let me teach you." As the words left his lips, another body joined her in the tub. ………… The next day. Morning arrived as promised. Blinding sunlight pierced through the window glass. The curtains were fully drawn. By the floor-to-ceiling window stood a man, his back turned to her, gazing outside. Tall and imposing, even his silhouette exuded a lazy nobility and cold arrogance. Lila woke with a pounding headache. Last night, she'd had a wild dream—on her wedding night, she'd been unfaithful to Mr. Quinn with a handsome stranger, turning his world into a sea of green. The dream had been so passionate, so vivid. She lingered in its memory before slowly opening her eyes. The moment she saw the man's cold back, she gasped, unable to form words. "Y-you—you!" "Who the hell are you?!" Why was there a man in her room? This man was tall and strong—even from behind, she knew it wasn't Mr. Quinn! Who was he?! Had she really… been unfaithful in Mr. Quinn's house last night? Hearing the woman's shocked voice, Adrian frowned and glanced over his shoulder. "No more drinking." She'd drunk away millions of his money last night. Even if he didn't care about the cost, he regretted losing those rare, hard-to-obtain vintages. With that, he walked away, cold and indifferent. Lila remained frozen in bed, stunned. She remembered drinking a little after seeing the news about Charles and Sylvia Evans. Then… "No way…" She looked down at the bruises and marks on her body, on the verge of tears. Last night was her wedding night. Not only had she not seen Mr. Quinn, but she'd been… with a stranger in his home… All the rumors about Mr. Quinn's brutality flooded back into her mind. She could already imagine how terribly she would die… And that bastard who'd cuckolded Mr. Quinn had the nerve to warn her not to drink again? Even if she had ten times the courage, she'd never dare touch alcohol again! As she clutched her head in regret, the door knocked. Lucian slipped quietly into the room. "I'm hungry."