Chapter 4 4

He spent half the day dazed after that damned woman hit him on the head yesterday.

It took him a while to even get up from the ground. Just as he was planning to dash out and find her to teach her a lesson, a group of men clad in black stormed into his room.

Without a word, they tied him up and left him lying on the floor, ignored for an entire day. Fear and anger churned within him.

He was completely clueless about what these people planned to do.

Had he offended someone? Now, he was brought here-and to his shock, he saw Master Prescott.

And standing beside Master Prescott was that damned woman who had run away yesterday! It didn't take long for him to piece things together.

When did that girl get on good terms with Master Prescott? How did I not know about this? Was she always Master Prescott's woman?

The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. He had laid hands on Master Prescott's woman. Maximus Cromwell's blood ran cold.

The only thought racing through his mind was: 'I'm doomed.' "Master Prescott, I was wrong... I was wrong," he stammered, his voice trembling.

Annabelle noticed the sheer terror on Maximus Cromwell's face, as if he had seen a ghost. It sent a chill down her spine.

If even Maximus Cromwell feared this man to such an extent, it could only mean one thing: Master Prescott's power was truly terrifying. Adrian stared coldly at the man cowering on the ground.

"Tell me," he said, his voice icy, "what did you do wrong?" Annabelle's body trembled instinctively.

She noticed that when Adrian spoke to Maximus Cromwell, his tone was even colder than when he spoke to her.

There was no hint of emotion-just a chilling, unyielding authority.

He was like a devil risen from the abyss. Even though he had been intimidating toward her, his demeanor now was something else entirely-colder, more menacing, and utterly unapproachable.

Maximus Cromwell shivered uncontrollably. A distinct odor of urine filled the air. "I... I was wrong! I shouldn't have touched what belongs to you! Mr. Prescott, I beg you, please spare me! If I had known Miss Sullivan was yours, I wouldn't have dared to lay a finger on her, even if I had the courage of a thousand men!"

Yet, Adrian's expression remained unreadable, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

Annabelle couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the cold, oppressive atmosphere in the room.

She dared not look directly at Maximus Cromwell, her fingertips turning icy as memories of yesterday flooded her mind.

Yesterday, while she was dizzy and vulnerable, Maximus Cromwell had taken advantage of her.

He had grabbed her, pushed her onto the table, and let his hands roam recklessly over her body. The fear and disgust she had felt in that moment still lingered, fresh and raw.

At the same time, a thought crossed her mind: 'There's no real difference between Maximus Cromwell and this man.

Whether it's a wolf or a tiger, they're both predators.' It just so happened that, in her irrational state, she had crossed paths with the latter.

Adrian's voice cut through the silence, cold and commanding. "Speak. I want to hear every detail of what happened between you and her yesterday."

He didn't touch her, huh?' Adrian didn't believe it for a second.

This man had dared to lay a hand on her, even if only for a moment. Cold sweat dripped from Maximus Cromwell's forehead as he stammered out the details, fear gripping him with every word.

Annabelle couldn't bear to listen any longer. Her unease grew with each passing moment.

'Why is he so fixated on finding out what happened yesterday?' What alarmed her even more was the growing tension in the room.

The atmosphere grew heavier, colder, as if the chill was seeping into her very bones. And it was emanating entirely from Adrian.

Adrian knew what had happened was irreversible.

But now that Annabelle was his, even through his anger, a thought gnawed at him-if she hadn't fled in desperation yesterday, would they have missed each other entirely?

D*mn it.

He couldn't stand the thought of another man touching her.

Not even a little. Maximus Cromwell stood before him, his attempt at an explanation as clumsy as ever.

His face had turned a sickly shade, like bruised flesh, and his fear was palpable.

"Mr. Prescott, I'm truly sorry... It was Anthony Sullivan who introduced me to his daughter." Annabelle's hands tightened into fists, a cold light flashing in her eyes. Adrian sneered.

"You're not getting away. You put your filthy hands on her, so you don't need them anymore. As for that thing below your waist-it's redundant too. And your company? Bankrupt by the end of today." Maximus crumpled to the floor, fainting on the spot.

Annabelle's breath hitched, fear etched across her features.

She hadn't expected Adrian to punish him so ruthlessly.

Adrian's gaze zeroed in on her, sharp and dangerous.

"What? You think it's too harsh?" Annabelle bit her lip.

Raised with traditional values, she believed in the law, in justice being served through the proper channels.

She didn't sympathize with Maximus, but wasn't it the law's job to punish him-not a personal vendetta?

"I think... sending him to prison is punishment enough," she whispered. A cold smile tugged at Adrian's lips.

"Fine. I'll add that too. As you wish. Break his hands, cripple him, bankrupt him, and finally, send him to prison." Annabelle's eyes widened.

She hadn't meant that. "I didn't-" Adrian's expression hardened.

"You're my woman. I'll protect you, look after you. You shouldn't think his punishment is too severe.

Do you even know what he's done?" At his signal, a bodyguard stepped forward, recounting the investigation's findings. "For years, Maximus Cromwell exploited underage girls through various channels, including r*p*, but he always evaded the law.

He deliberately drove a company into bankruptcy, leaving them thirty million in debt, leading the owner to take his own life. He also forced more than a dozen women to undergo abortions..." Annabelle fell silent. There were always monsters like Maximus-people who seemed to slip through the cracks of the law.

And even when caught, it never felt like enough.

Her chest tightened as she looked at Adrian. He was nothing like her, nothing like the world she knew.

Her life had been ordinary, sheltered from the ugly and dark.

But Adrian... he was like an emperor of shadows, wielding power over life and death with his own brand of justice.

She watched, unblinking, as Maximus was dragged away.

But a cold unease settled over her, her mind unable to quiet.

Mr. Prescott... What kind of man was he, really? Adrian's hand slipped into hers, the sudden warmth startling her.

Her skin must have been like ice; she hadn't noticed. His frown deepened.

He turned to the maid. "Bring her a cup of hot milk." His thumb brushed over her knuckles, his grip firm but not painful.

"Drink it to warm up. Are you cold? Should I get you a blanket?" He didn't let go.

Instead, his hold tightened, as if he feared she might disappear.