Chapter 3 Step In Like Some Hero

Braeden was the illegitimate son of Matthew's grandfather, Frank Cooper, conceived when Frank had already reached the age of fifty-four. Actually, Braeden was merely three years older than Matthew.

His standing within the Cooper family had always been painfully uncomfortable, and the family regarded him as nothing short of a stain on their reputation.

Although Frank had formally recognized him and taken him back into the family, the rest of the family refused to welcome him.

After Frank died, Braeden and his mother were forced to relocate to the city's outer edges, forbidden from showing their faces in public.

Kristina had never imagined that her lawful husband would be Braeden.

She heard that Braeden had spent the past few years overseas, working on building his career.

That meant if she wanted to end the marriage, she would have to travel abroad to track him down.

Noticing the pensive expression settling on her face, Mabel lost her composure. "Kristina, you're not still hung up on that bastard, are you? He's just one pathetic excuse for a man. You don't need to ruin your entire life over someone like him. There are plenty of better guys out there. Dumping a jerk like that should be reason enough to celebrate. I'm booking eight male escorts for you tonight so you can properly enjoy the perks of being a rich single woman!"

Kristina abruptly came back to her senses.

Since Matthew wasn't her husband at all, she was in no hurry to divorce.

She tucked the marriage certificate away, then casually propped her chin against one hand and turned to look at Mabel. The warmth that had lingered in her gaze disappeared, replaced by something colder and far more rebellious.

"Make sure every single one of them has eight-pack abs," she said coolly. "Otherwise, I'm not interested."

Mabel finally let out a breath and spun the steering wheel with a sharp motion. "Now that's more like it," she replied with a grin.

At seven in the evening, Kristina walked into Club Prism dressed in a black, ultra-short bodycon skirt, a cropped white blouse trimmed with ruffles and pulled tight at the waist, and a pair of studded lambskin ankle boots.

The top three buttons of her blouse were deliberately left undone, tracing the graceful curve of her chest.

A black choker circled her neck, making her smooth skin stand out even more.

Mabel, on the other hand, wore a red spaghetti-strap dress that made her look fiery and alluring.

The instant the two women stepped inside, they attracted countless hungry gazes from the men nearby.

Mabel guided Kristina straight toward one of the best booths on the first floor and beckoned the manager over, a premium membership card held between her fingers. "Bring me eight of your best male escorts," she instructed.

The manager glanced at the exclusive card, nodded at once, and hurried away to make the arrangements.

Kristina uncorked a bottle of liquor and took a small sip. As the music pulsed around her, she let her body sway lightly with the rhythm, finally allowing herself to loosen up after three years of holding everything in.

The attention fixed on her never faded.

A burly man draped in a chunky gold chain sauntered over, lazily spinning his car keys, and plopped down beside Kristina.

"Hey there, beautiful. Why waste time calling for male escorts? I could keep you entertained just fine," he drawled, his hungry gaze sliding straight toward her chest.

Before he could take in the sight properly, an ashtray suddenly hurtled toward him.

"Get out of here!" Mabel snapped. She hadn't aimed for his skull. Instead, the ashtray sliced through the air between his legs, a clear warning rather than a strike.

The man, Alec Hall, was a familiar face in the criminal underworld, and he clearly didn't regard the two pretty women as any sort of threat.

With a casual flick of his hand, several bodyguards dressed in black closed in and surrounded the booth.

Grinning obscenely, he tugged his belt free and sneered, "Listen carefully, ladies. Be obedient, and I promise I'll be gentle. Otherwise, you'll be groveling beneath me."

He even gave his thick waist a cocky thrust and stretched out a grimy hand toward Kristina.

But before his fingers could brush her, Kristina slipped aside as lightly as air and deftly twisted his belt into a tight knot.

She jerked it so sharply that Alec's mouth flew open with a pained gasp.

With a faint smile still resting on her lips, she chopped her hand down in a swift strike, sending the car keys flying from his grip while splitting his lip at the same time. "Close that filthy mouth."

The bodyguards surged forward immediately.

Kristina snatched a bottle from the table and smashed it across one man's head.

At the same moment, Mabel pivoted and drove a kick into another guard's neck, sending him sprawling hard onto the floor.

Alec finally coughed up the car keys he had bitten down on. His face burned crimson as he began shouting angrily, "Call more men over here! I'm not letting these two bitches walk away tonight!"

Up on the third floor, inside a private booth, someone let out a quiet exclamation.

"Hey, Braeden, doesn't that woman look a lot like Matthew's wife? But the whole aura is different. There's no way that's Kristina, that stay-at-home wife. Just look at her figure and those moves. She's dropping those guys like it's nothing."

Seated across from him in an armchair, Braeden slowly turned his head. In the dim lighting, his gaze settled on Kristina.

At that moment, she moved with the lethal grace of a hunting predator, and as she shifted, a sliver of her slim waist flashed into view.

His friend, Cristian Watson, clicked his tongue. "Things are getting intense over there. Two women against that many men. Braeden, this is your territory. Aren't you going to step in like some hero and rescue them?"

Right then, Alec suddenly pulled a dagger from his pocket and, using the chaos as cover, lunged toward Kristina's back.

Braeden's half-lowered eyes snapped fully open, a dangerous glint flashing through them.

As he rose abruptly to his feet, he grabbed the knife on the table, its blade glimmering coldly between his fingers with a deadly sheen.