Chapter 5
"What the fuck?! Are you insane, you crazy bitch?" Thomas hissed, his face pale with pain as he cursed at Avery.
This was the first time anyone had dared to lay a hand on him.
"My father is right around the corner," he snarled. "He'll be here any minute, and trust me—you're dead meat when he arrives."
His threat hung in the air, his expression promising retribution.
But Avery simply stalked toward him on her stilettos, each click against the floor like a countdown.
"What do you think you're doing?" Thomas's voice wavered, suddenly recognizing something dangerous in her approach.
He couldn't stand up through the pain, and for the first time in his privileged life, actual fear crept into his chest.
"You talk too much," Avery said, crouching down beside him.
She gripped his chin between her perfectly manicured fingers and applied the slightest pressure.
With a sickening crack, Thomas's jaw dislocated!
Now he couldn't even scream. His eyes widened in terror as he realized this woman was scarier than any demon he'd ever imagined.
Someone from the growing crowd of onlookers stepped forward. "Miss, you should probably apologize to Thomas before his father arrives. Otherwise..." The bystander swallowed hard. "You might not live to regret it."
Avery casually wiped her fingers on a handkerchief.
"And if Thomas's father does show up—what then?" she asked, her voice dripping with boredom.
The crowd collectively gasped at her audacity. Everyone knew the Dunlop Group was one of the country's top-ranking corporations.
Yet Avery showed absolutely zero fear.
No sooner had the words left her lips than a middle-aged man's voice boomed from nearby.
"Thomas! My son! Who did this to you?"
The crowd parted immediately, several people bowing respectfully.
"Mr. Dunlop, sir."
Christopher Dunlop strode directly to Thomas's side.
"Someone dislocated your jaw?" he growled, then unceremoniously snapped it back into place.
"Ouch! That hurt!" Thomas's agonized cry returned the moment his jaw realigned with a nauseating click.
"Dad, thank God you're here! Not just my jaw—that woman broke my leg too!" Thomas viciously pointed at Avery. "Make her pay!"
But when Christopher's gaze landed on Avery's face, he froze as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Ms. Vaughn? Is that... really you?"
His commanding presence deflated instantly, his voice trembling.
Avery's tone remained level, but carried the unmistakable authority of someone accustomed to power.
"I hadn't expected after all these years that your son would give me such a... memorable surprise."
At her words, Christopher's expression transformed to one of absolute dread.
His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground in supplication.
"I'm so sorry, my esteemed employer. This is entirely my fault for failing to raise him properly!"
Thomas's jaw dropped again—this time from shock.
How could Avery, who looked close to his own age, possibly be his father's boss?
"Dad, you've got the wrong person. She's nothing but a—"
The rest of his sentence was cut off by the sharp crack of Christopher's palm across his face.
The slap echoed through the stunned crowd.
No one could believe Christopher Dunlop would publicly strike his own son over some woman!
Thomas cradled his reddening cheek in disbelief.
"Dad, have you lost your mind?"
"Shut up, you fool! Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness—now!" Christopher's lips quivered with rage.
"Dad, why should I apologize to her?" Thomas clutched his face, a sense of unease growing in his gut.
The answer that came next floored him.
"Our family's entire fortune exists because of Ms. Vaughn's investment years ago. She's the major shareholder of our company!"
Christopher glared at his son before turning back to grovel before Avery.
"I'm terribly sorry. This is entirely my fault for failing to teach him proper manners and allowing him to cause trouble!"
The man everyone respected was now on his knees, apologizing profusely to Avery.
"I promise to discipline him severely when we return home!"
Thomas, witnessing his father's submission, finally realized he'd messed with someone far beyond his league.
"I apologize for my disrespectful words," Thomas muttered, though resentment still clouded his face. "But you broke my leg, so I'd say we're even."
"Even?" Avery's laugh held no humor. "Weren't you just threatening to end my life?"
She turned her attention back to Christopher.
"If you can't even raise one child properly, how can I trust you to run an entire company?"
Christopher scrambled to explain, but Avery had already pulled out her phone and made a call.
"Effective immediately, I'm withdrawing all my shares and investments from the Dunlop Group."
"From this day forward, the Dunlop Group has no connection to me whatsoever."
Christopher's face drained of all color.
It was over. Their family would vanish from the fashion industry completely.
Nearby, Chloe listened with widening eyes, then quickly arranged her features into an innocent expression.
"Wow, Avery's incredible," she said loudly enough for Owen to hear. "But where did she get that kind of money?"
Chloe deliberately guided Owen's thoughts. "I get it—she must have earned it when she was building that startup with you."
Owen's expression hardened, his jaw clenched tight.
"I'd also like to know where this money came from!"
The Avery he knew had indeed built a company with him.
But this investment? He knew nothing about it.
He marched over to Avery, fury radiating from every pore.
"How much money have you been stealing from our company all these years?" he demanded.
Avery startled, not expecting to see him here.
Then she let out a scornful laugh.
"You can't possibly believe that pitiful company of yours could finance an investment in the Dunlop Group? You couldn't afford it if you sold your soul."
"You—!" Owen's face turned ashen.
"Rest assured, I never took a single penny from your company. This investment came from my personal funds."
Avery met his glare head-on.
"And I did mention this to you years ago. Clearly, you didn't consider it important enough to remember."
Owen's brow furrowed as memory stirred.
Years ago, Avery had excitedly told him about investing in a company and wanting to pursue fashion design. He'd dismissed it as idle dreaming.
After all, since her mother's death, Avery had lived with her grandmother in the countryside.
Where could she possibly have gotten that kind of money?
"You expect me to believe that?" Owen sneered, grabbing her wrist. "And it's quite the coincidence you're here tonight. You must have been tracking my movements."
He was convinced Avery was staging this entire scene to capture his attention.
Yet her eyes held none of the adoration they once did—only ice and disgust.
"Let go of me, or you'll regret it," she warned.
Instead of releasing her, Owen tightened his grip.
"Stop this charade. You're embarrassing me. We're leaving—now."
Avery found his words darkly amusing.
So in his mind, even her divorce filing was just some kind of joke?
Her expression hardened. She was about to take action when a large hand appeared, effortlessly pushing Owen away.
A deep, magnetic voice cut through the tension.
"The lady asked you to let go. I assume you're not deaf."
Avery froze.
From her perspective, the first thing she noticed was the man's elegant hand.
Long, perfectly proportioned fingers that looked like they belonged to a concert pianist.
Her gaze traveled upward to his impeccably tailored charcoal suit, which emphasized his commanding presence.
The man had the natural build of a supermodel—broad shoulders, long legs, and from the fitted vest he wore beneath his jacket, she could tell his physique was flawlessly sculpted.
Finally, Avery raised her eyes to his face.
When she saw him clearly, her body went rigid.
Her heart began racing uncontrollably.
Silver hair fell carelessly across his forehead. His nose was aristocratically straight, his features sharp as a blade.
Most unsettling were his deep crimson eyes, reminiscent of an ancient vampire count from legend, exuding both danger and power.
People around them began bowing respectfully.
"Mr. Ferrari, you've finally arrived."
"We've been waiting for some time."
"This little disturbance could have been handled by security. There was no need for you to intervene personally."
These deferential comments only intensified Avery's shock.
Could this man—Matteo Ferrari—possibly be the same one she'd had a one-night stand with?
How could that be?