Bride of Retribution: Aloof Billionaire's Dominant Game

”Hahahaha...” Luis suddenly shrugged. ”I get it now, this is about my uncle who died so early, isn’t it? You want to stand up for him. Because my dad planted a seed in your mom’s belly, you set me up to sleep with a woman you didn’t want anymore, just to make a fool out of me, right?” Luis’s face was twisted into that hateful grin, both hands spread, his expression arrogant to the extreme as he raised his brows. ”What is it, big brother, did I say something wrong? But you’re overthinking it. I’m not taking this child. Don’t say it’s not born yet—even if it’s born, I still won’t take it.” His狂妄 laughter exploded through the entire office; he would never marry a woman Joshua Hughes had already played with. Never.

He slowly stood up from the swivel chair, light slicing across the side of Joshua Hughes’s face, outlining a refined yet extremely dangerous curve. Amid Luis’s wild, rampant laughter, Joshua lifted his fingers, lightly loosened his collar, and the corner of his mouth slowly hooked into a cold smile laced with killing intent.

The next second, even the secretary at the door, who had just stood up to bring in tea, couldn’t help letting out a sharp scream. Joshua’s figure shot out like a streak of ink-black lightning, raising his leg, sweeping over the desk, and ruthlessly, savagely slamming a vicious kick straight into Luis’s chest...

That狂妄 laughter instantly jammed in his throat. His chest felt like it had shattered, and all that came out was: cough, cough...

Luis sprawled completely on the floor, his chest choking up a mouthful of bright red blood that dripped onto the tiles, drop by drop. Joshua stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar, hauled him up and slammed him onto the desk. On the desktop lay a fountain pen he had just used to sign his name, its sharp nib gleaming with a cold, ghostly silver light, aimed straight at Luis’s large hand pinned to the table...

The secretary’s eyes went wide. Her earlier scream had already been swallowed by the vast space; one hand was cradling the teacup, the other clamped over her own mouth.

”Let me go... cough... cough, what are you trying to do?” Luis’s face was flushed a dark liver-purple from being yanked by the collar. He struggled desperately to break free, but Joshua’s powerful back bent over him, pinning him so he couldn’t move. The pen tip was inching toward his palm, and he could practically feel the chill radiating off that cold glint.

Joshua’s eyes were bloodshot, icy and murderous, his thin lips curling into a cruel yet elegant arc. ”Looks like you just can’t be taught, huh. Too bad. This time, the lesson has to be burned in deeper.” A faint metallic tang of blood was already seeping through the air, prickling the senses. ”Chasing a moment’s thrill with your mouth and trading it for endless consequences and total ruin—you always manage to pick the worst possible outcome...”

Terror flickered in Luis’s eyes, but before he could say anything—”swish”—Joshua’s hand moved as fast as lightning. His arm lifted, then came crashing down. The sharp nib of the fountain pen drove straight into Luis’s palm. A trace of bloodlust flashed through Joshua’s gaze, and in that elegant, dangerous tone he said, ”Didn’t your father invite some hermit master to read your palm and say you’d ’bring peace to the world’? I’d really like to see how this ruined hand is supposed to do that.”

The custom fountain pen cost an extraordinary amount, and of course its quality matched the price. Joshua’s cold laugh, the veins bulging on the back of his hand, and the bloodshot streaks in his eyes all screamed his fury. ”If you mention my father again—for any reason—this pen won’t be in your palm. I’ll drive it in right here...” Joshua pressed a hand over Luis’s heart and smiled faintly.

The pen nib slowly, deliberately scraped across Luis’s palm, stirring up the flesh inside along with the fine, hypersensitive nerve endings. Luis’s handsome face had gone completely bloodless, chalk-pale. He clamped his jaw shut, biting down hard. No man of the Hughes Family ever begged for mercy. The vicious pain sent sweat pouring off his forehead like rain, quickly soaking his thick black lashes. His vision was starting to blur and spin; if not for the savage agony burning in his hand, he might already have passed out. That bastard—he didn’t even know how many ribs Joshua had kicked to pieces...

After gouging across most of the palm, Joshua pulled the pen out, took a tissue and elegantly wiped down the pen body. The bright red on the paper even seemed streaked with faint threads of black. He watched Luis collapse on the floor in pain, his palm slowly welling with blood. Joshua bent down to look at him, a complex emotion hidden beneath his dense lashes. ”You’ve always loved testing my limits. You were like that since we were kids. Still want to keep going?”