Chapter 984:
As Terrance choked out ragged gasps, Laurel lunged forward in panic. “Rylie! What on earth are you doing? Are you planning to kill him in front of all of us?”
She reached out to grab Rylie, but the instant her fingertips brushed Rylie’s arm, a sharp crack rang out.
The slap snapped through the room like a gunshot, freezing Laurel in disbelief. “Did you just slap me!?”
Before she could respond, Rylie’s hand came down again, striking the other side of her face.
“Ah!” Laurel staggered back, covering both cheeks, her eyes wide and brimming with tears of outrage. “Have you completely lost your mind, Rylie?” she cried.
She turned on Rylie’s brothers and Brad, her voice shaking with fury. “Are you really just going to stand there and watch her slap me?”
“Haven’t you already taken a life yourself?” Rylie’s tone was calm, almost cold, as her gaze drifted down to Terrance writhing beneath her. “If I didn’t plan to reclaim Detour Inc. the proper way, if I weren’t set on restoring what’s rightfully mine, do you honestly think you’d still be alive to come here and challenge me?”
In that moment, Rylie radiated an undeniable power, her aura towering and imperious, like a monarch surveying creatures far beneath her notice.
Despite her youth, the sheer force she emanated made Terrance’s blood run cold. True fear seeped into his veins for the first time.
Rylie slowly lifted her foot and spoke with chilling composure, each word deliberate and sharp as a blade. “You should be thankful this is Eshea, where the law still has reach. Were this my own domain, you’d have been silenced long ago.”
“She’s like a lioness cornered,” Deandre muttered under his breath, his usual composure wavering. “You can almost feel the danger radiating from her.”
𝘑oi𝗇 𝘵𝘩ou𝗌𝘢𝘯𝗱ѕ 𝗼𝖿 𝗳𝗮𝘯𝘴 о𝗻 𝘨𝗮𝗹𝘯ovе𝘭ѕ.𝘤𝗼𝘮
Marcus’s gaze lingered on Rylie, his expression a mix of pride and admiration. “This,” he said softly, “is what it means to carry the Owen family bloodline.”
In the end, Laurel could do nothing but swallow her pride and support Terrance as they made their unsteady retreat.
Through it all, Paola remained motionless, eyes downcast. Yet before stepping out, she dared one last look at Rylie—the woman who embodied everything she herself lacked. Grace. Power. Fearless poise.
Rylie met her gaze briefly. Despite the glittering jewelry draped over Paola’s frame, her eyes were dim, empty, like the hollow stare of a porcelain doll that had long since lost its soul.
Paola, still in the bloom of her life, had spent years maneuvering and clawing her way through the ruthless world of social ambition, battling other women with cunning and charm to secure her place. In the end, she had achieved what many only dreamed of: marriage into an old and powerful family, one with a legacy spanning generations, its influence vast though its patriarch was now graying and fading with time.
“I was wrong.”
All at once, Paola tore herself free from Laurel’s hold, stumbling forward in disarray. Her heels scraped against the floor as she dropped to her hands, crawling the last few steps before collapsing to her knees at Rylie’s feet.
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