Chapter 2 - The Forced Exit
Clara’s heart hammered violently against her ribs. She took another desperate step backward, her white sneakers squeaking against the polished hardwood floor.
"No," Clara choked out, looking frantically toward the kitchen doors. "Vincent, please. I’m working. You can't do this."
Vincent didn't yell. The cinematic realism of his restraint made him infinitely more terrifying. He slowly stood up from the table, his towering, muscular frame completely dominating the space. He casually adjusted his black tie, but his dark eyes never left her swollen stomach.
Before Clara could turn and run, the restaurant manager, a snobby man in a tight grey suit, rushed over.
"Is there a problem here, sir?" the manager asked, glaring at Clara. "Clara, I told you not to bother the VIP guests! Apologize immediately!"
Vincent didn't even look at the manager. He reached into his tailored suit jacket, pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, and dropped them onto the white tablecloth.
"She quits," Vincent said smoothly, his voice radiating cold authority.
"Sir, you can't just—" the manager started to protest.
Two of Vincent’s massive, suited bodyguards instantly stepped out from the shadows of the restaurant, looming over the manager with silent, lethal intent. The manager swallowed hard, his face turning pale, and quickly backed away without another word.
Vincent turned his intense gaze back to Clara. He stepped into her personal space. He didn't grab her roughly. Instead, he gently, but with undeniable, iron-clad force, placed his large, tattooed hand on the small of her back.
"Walk," Vincent whispered directly into her ear, sending a freezing shiver down her spine. "Or I will carry you out of here in front of everyone."
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Clara knew he wasn't bluffing. Trembling with fear and exhaustion, she kept her hand protectively over her belly and let the terrifying syndicate boss guide her out the front doors.
👉 What dark secret made Clara run away from her billionaire husband in the first place?
