Chapter 1321:
The disgust and resistance on her face were unmistakable—but something inside him had already broken past reason. He pressed her down, leaning in recklessly. The difference in their strength was plain. Despite Melany’s training, Carlos’s boxing background gave him a physical advantage she couldn’t fully overcome.
“No!” Melany screamed, panic breaking through her voice. “You’ll regret this!”
At that exact moment, the door burst open with a deafening crash, slamming hard into the wall.
Before Carlos could react, a powerful hand seized his collar and hurled him across the room. He slammed into the dining table, sending dishes flying in every direction, shards scattering across the floor.
A cold gun barrel was pressed firmly against his forehead.
𝖸𝘰u𝗋 𝗱𝖺𝘪𝗹y 𝖽𝗈ѕe 𝗼𝘧 𝘯о𝗏𝘦𝗹𝘀 𝗼𝘯 g𝖺𝘭𝗻𝘰𝗏е𝘭𝘴.𝘤o𝗆
Carlos looked up slowly—and met Deandre’s bloodshot, terrifying gaze.
Deandre stood amid the wreckage like a storm given human form, radiating a fury so cold and absolute it seemed to drain the air from the room.
“You want to die?” he said, his voice low and hoarse, each word carrying a dark, unhurried weight that came from somewhere deep and genuinely dangerous.
The lingering effects of alcohol vanished from Carlos’s system in an instant, leaving his face ghostly pale, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Deandre calmly released the safety. The soft, distinct click cut through the silence like a warning.
“Deandre!” Melany’s voice rang out sharply, urgent and tight with fear.
He didn’t glance back—as though he hadn’t heard her at all. His gaze stayed locked on Carlos, his fingers tightening around the weapon with slow, deliberate pressure.
“No!”
Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist from behind, holding on with desperate strength.
Melany’s voice trembled, thick with suppressed tears. “Please… don’t do this in front of my daughter.”
Deandre went rigid.
His eyes dropped to the slender hands clinging to him—trembling ever so slightly. Evelina’s cries rang out without pause, sharp and impossible to ignore.
He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to anchor himself.
Then, with a restrained motion, he lowered the gun, shoved Carlos aside with a forceful kick, and turned slowly to face the woman behind him.
Her face was drained of color, her eyes rimmed red. She bit down on her lip as though stubbornly refusing to let the tears fall—looking at him with a mixture of fear and restraint, and beneath that, something deeper and more complicated that he couldn’t quite name.
Deandre swallowed, his throat tight.
He wanted to tell her she had nothing to be afraid of—that he would never lay a hand on her. More than anything, he wanted to admit that he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else ever touching her.
But the words never left his lips. He knew she wouldn’t believe him anymore. Not after everything he had done, the depth of the pain he had caused, the weight he had left her to carry alone at far too young an age.
So instead, he quietly slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Then he crouched down and gently lifted Evelina into his arms, his voice low and slightly rough as he murmured, “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. Daddy’s here.”
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