The Grieving Master Ordered the Maid's Child Thrown Out — Until He Opened the Silver Locket Around Her Neck

Beatrice swallowed hard. Her mind raced. The guards worked for her. She signed their checks. If she could just silence Adrian and the maid right now, she could still win.

"Yes!" Beatrice shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at Claire. "Take that woman and the child to the basement! And restrain my brother, he’s having a psychotic breakdown!"

The three massive guards stepped into the room, raising their batons. Claire closed her eyes, preparing for the violent blows, shielding Nora tightly.

But the blows never came.

"Stop," a single, low, earth-shattering command echoed from Adrian.

He didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. He simply projected the dominant, terrifying authority of a man who owned the entire city.

The guards froze in their tracks.

Adrian slowly buttoned the cuffs of his black dress shirt. He walked straight toward the three massive men, his eyes burning with lethal intent.

"Who signs your paychecks?" Adrian asked quietly.

"Ms. Beatrice does, sir," the lead guard stammered, suddenly looking very unsure of himself.

"Beatrice manages the accounts," Adrian corrected him, his voice slicing through the air like a razor. "I own the bank. I own this estate. I own the ground you are standing on. If you lay a single finger on that woman or my daughter, I won't just fire you. I will make sure you spend the rest of your natural lives in a federal penitentiary."

The guards looked at each other. They looked at Beatrice’s pale, sweating face. Then, as one, they lowered their weapons and stepped back out of the doorway.

Beatrice was completely alone.

"You cowards!" Beatrice screamed, her voice cracking in pure desperation. "I pay you! Grab them!"

"It's over, Beatrice," Adrian said, stepping right into her face. "The police are already on their way. I forwarded the audio file to the District Attorney ten minutes ago."