Page 7

Kai

I closed my eyes as Mario sped through the Chen estate, tearing past the security gate without much resistance.

Nothing was going to stop me. Nothing was going to stop me. Nothing was going to stop me.

I repeated that mantra, steeling myself.

Jenny was getting out. There was no question about it.

Chen’s men had been slow to respond, clearly underestimating us.

They didn’t think we had the guts to ram through the security gate—the same high-tech gate designed to keep intruders like us out.

I had one myself. Yet, after only two hits, it crumpled.

Maybe I had underestimated Mario’s strategy.

Or maybe luck was on our side.

At the grand wooden entrance, a crowd of Chen’s men waited. Their radios had surely spread the word that some crazy intruders were incoming. Mario stepped out, carrying a massive hunting rifle in hand, and motioned for me to follow.

No one dared move against us. Mario’s reputation preceded him—the crazy Italian who thrived on confrontation. Armed with that rifle, only a fool would challenge him.

I didn’t know how he got his hands on such a weapon. And I didn’t care. When you know the right people, nothing is out of reach.

Then I noticed something else—some of Chen’s men exchanged glances with Mario.

Recognition?

Familiarity?

He clearly knew them.

Maybe even had an agreement with them.

“Where to?” I tested my theory.

Mario’s gaze flicked to a large woman in a group. She arched a brow and tilted her head.

“Upstairs,” I announced, catching the faint shouting coming from the floor above.

Without hesitation, I sprinted up the marble staircase, Mario close behind. Jenny’s voice grew louder with every step, her screams echoing through the corridor.

No guards.

No one to stop us.

I found her instantly. Her bedroom door stood wide open. She was in the middle of the room, screaming, hurling a yellow leather bag to the floor.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Chen’s voice cut through the chaos. His surprise was genuine. Did none of his men warn him?

I stood by the doorway, staring at him, then Jenny’s tear-streaked face.

“Come with me,” I said, extending a hand towards Jenny.

Chen sneered, stepping between us. “Get the fuck out. This is none of your business.”

“I hate you!” Jenny shrieked. Her body trembled as tears streamed down her face. She flung a jewelry box against the wall, shards scattering across the floor. “Why do you always do this to me.”

“Honey, I love you.” Chen said, his tone oozing a forced sweetness.

“Lies. All you care about is your reputation.”

“Of course, I care about you. You’re my wife.”

“And what about your mistresses? You think I don’t know about them?”

“They mean nothing. All they get is money and a dirty fuck.”

Jenny laughed bitterly, her voice cracking. “I should never have believed you. All you do is hurt me.”

Chen’s face darkened. “Don’t be ungrateful. What about the life I gave you? The jewelry, designer bags, the surgeries to keep you young and beautiful?”

“Same goes for your whores.”

“But I come home to you. You get to be Mrs. Chen.”

“I’ve heard enough,” she spat.

Her eyes found mine. “Jenny, let’s go already.”

“She’s my wife. You have no right to take her.”

“I’m not taking her,” I said coldly. “You’re the one who took her by force, remember? She’s leaving if she wants to.”

Chen’s face twisted in rage. “She belongs to me. She’s my wife, my property. I can do whatever I want with her.”

“You’re out of your mind. Wake up. This isn’t ancient China. You don’t own anyone.”

“Not when you’re me.”

I turned to Jenny. “Tell him you want a divorce.”

“I want a divorce.” Her lips trembled, but her voice was clear.

“Not a chance.”

“I want a divorce.” She repeated, louder this time. The fear in her eyes burned into fury.

“Say it again,” Chen challenged.

“I. Want. A. Divorce.”

The slap came so fast I barely saw it. Jenny collapsed to the floor. Chen grabbed her by the ponytail, yanked her upright, and struck her again.

Rage blinded me. I lunged at him, but his blows came just as quick. By the time I reached him, he had already kicked Jenny twice in the stomach.

Mario surged forward, locking Chen in a chokehold. I drove my fist into his face, then his gut. Each punch landed with a sickening crunch, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. Chen thrashed violently in Mario’s grip, his rage boiling over.

His scream pierced the air—but not from my punch.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Chen’s voice cracked with fury.

I turned.

Jenny stood frozen, a bloodied utility knife in her trembling hand. Her knuckles were white from gripping the blade too tightly, her chest rising and falling in frantic bursts.

“Qing Qing,” I said softly, using her nickname like a lifeline. My heart slammed against my ribs. “Put the knife down.”

Her wild, tear-filled eyes met mine. Pain and defiance burned in her gaze.

“I’m done,” she whispered. Her voice hollow and broken. And then, before I could stop her, she dragged the blade down her inner her wrist in one swift motion.

“No!” I shouted, my blood turning ice-cold.

Blood poured from the deep gash, dripping down her arm and staining the pale silk of her dress. She staggered back, her breathing ragged, her face pale as death.

Chen roared with rage, his strength surging as he wrenched free from Mario’s grasp. He lunged toward her, his palm cracking against her cheek with enough force to twist her head to the side.

Jenny screamed as he raised his hand for another blow. His face twisted with nothing but hatred.

I couldn’t stop the slap—it came too fast. But I tackled him to the ground before he could strike her again.

We crashed hard, the air bursting from my lungs as we hit the marble floor. Jenny crumpled beside us, blood soaking the hem of her dress and pooling beneath her. My fists landed hard, raw anger driving every punch. But Chen didn’t flinch. His eyes burned with madness as he reached for her again.

“Bitch, you think you can threaten me like that?” he roared, his voice thick with venom. He clawed at Jenny, grabbing a fistful of her hair and jerking her toward him.

“Let her go!” My voice was a snarl, but he didn’t listen.

His hand cracked against her face again. And again. Each slap echoed through the room, and with every blow, something inside me snapped.

Mario tried to pull him off. But Chen was a possessed man—driven by an uncontrollable need to punish Jenny for defying him.

He didn’t care about the blood or the consequences—only his control.

His grip tightened in her hair, and Jenny let out a pained whimper as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

I threw a savage punch into his side, hearing the sharp crack of a rib giving way. He bellowed in pain, his body shuddering. But he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop.

Then, just as suddenly, everything stopped.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched blood gushing out of Chen’s throat.

“Bitch.” Cheng managed to squeeze the word out, his voice a rasping croak.

“I wouldn’t talk if I were you.” Jenny crawled away from Chen as his monstrous hold finally loosened. Slowly, she pulled herself up and stood over her husband.

The knife slipped from her trembling hand, clattering to the floor. She wobbled as she moved, leaving a smeared trail of blood behind her. After picking up a pink dress from a nearby chair, she turned and walked towards me.

“Should I die with him?” Jenny gave me a faint smile, her tear-streaked face pale and hollow.

“No,” I responded, finally snapping out of my daze.

I stood and guided Jenny to sit down on the bed. Tearing the pink dress she handed me, I wrapped the fabric tightly around her wrist. The cut was deep—too deep. I sandwiched my wrist between my hands, applying as much pressure as I could to slow the bleeding.

The room fell into a heavy, tense silence.

Mario had gone downstairs. I knew he would do whatever was required. I had no other option but to trust him at a time like this.

Jenny slumped against me, resting her face on my shoulder. Her crying had never really stopped since I stepped into the room. It had ebbed and flowed, but the tears kept coming—an endless, broken stream.

“What are we going to do now?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I glanced over at Chen, lying motionless in a pool of his own blood.

His hand trembled weakly against his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

Despite the gaping wound, his face twisted with a mixture of shock and rage—like he couldn’t believe what Jenny had done and wanted her to pay for it.

What happened? I searched my memory, but the moment was a blur. I had been too busy prying him off Jenny—I hadn’t even seen her strike the fatal blow.

But there was no denying the truth. He wasn’t going to make it. Jenny had killed her husband. Her abuser.

“What did you do?” I needed to hear it from her. I needed to know that it was self-defense.

“I didn’t mean to,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“We have to call the police.” As much as I wanted him dead, I knew that keeping him alive—if even possible—was a better solution.

“They’ll think I murdered him,” she said bitterly.

“He was hurting you.” I pointed out, my voice sharp with frustration.

“So… you punched him.” Her gaze locked onto mine, reminding me of my own role in this disaster.

“I couldn’t just stand there…”

The images flashed through my mind—Chen dragging Jenny by her hair, his hand cracking across her face. The slapping noise filling the air of the room. I shook my head, trying to push them away.

“You kicked him.” Jenny added quietly.

“I did.” My chest tightened. This wasn’t the first time he had hurt her, and it killed me that I hadn’t been there to protect her.

“You could get into trouble if we called the police.”

“I would kick him again if I had to.” I didn’t hesitate. I would protect her—no matter the consequences.