Billionaire Defiant Wife

A sudden, loud noise interrupts the pulsing dance music. Within moments, the music stops and the speakers go quiet. As if the sudden silence was a signal, the crowd quickly heads towards the door of the club. The club empties until only ten people remain, lounging on the sofa.

Evan's bodyguards begin to emerge from the dark corners of the club. The menacing men walk in perfect coordination; with their hands placed cooly in their pockets, they separate into two rows and surround the sofa. Evan Howel appears behind his bodyguards and assesses the scene. A well-dressed man with greasy hair holds a coquettish woman in his arms.

Avery Peters is sitting on Thomas Rupert's knees. She wrapped one of her arms around his neck in an embrace, and she's gently swaying her long, elegant legs. She leans down seductively and whispers something to Thomas. He smiles and she begins to giggle. Evan's face is immediately filled with wrath.

Thomas begins to worry. He tries to push Avery off of his lap, but she doesn't budge.

"Avery? Come on, baby, stand up," he pleads, "Mr. Howel is coming."

Avery turns away from him and smiles teasingly at Evan.

"Mr. Howel, what a coincidence seeing you here! Did you want to watch me cheat on you in person?"

Evan knows that Avery is teasing him, that she hasn't really done anything with this man, but he's furious nonetheless. He clenches his teeth and points a gun at Thomas.

"M-M-Mr. Howel, did I offend you?" Thomas asks with a tremor in his voice.

Evan points the gun at the hand embracing Avery's waist.

"Get away from her!" he commands.

Thomas's face goes pale with fear and he puts his hands in the air. The atmosphere has become tense and still. Evan looks as furious as if he'd caught his wife in the act of making love with another man. He stalks towards Thomas and roughly pulls Avery from his lap.

Evan kicks Thomas hard and he falls onto the floor. Thomas covers his crotch and groans miserably. Evan's bodyguards begin to beat the other men who admired and flirted with Avery; some of them already have bloody noses and swollen, bruised faces.

Thomas is confused. He remembers that Avery said she was married, but he can't remember if she ever told him who her husband was. He looks at Avery.

"Are you Mr. Howel's wife?" he asks fearfully.

Evan Howel stomps on the hand Thomas had wrapped around Avery's waist. The bones in his hand crack.

"Did you touch her with anything else?"

"Mr. Howel, this is a big misunderstanding," Thomas whimpers, "I didn't know she was your wife. Besides, she told me she's getting a divorce. Believe me, if I had any idea that she's your wife, I never would have laid hands on her—divorced or not."

Avery grimaces scornfully at Thomas. The man had talked a big game, threatening to beat her husband to a pulp, but now he's the one on the floor crying and moaning.

"What a coward and a liar!" she thinks, "I never said anything to him about the divorce."

As soon as Evan hears the word "divorce" he becomes even more indignant. He looks like he might explode. Slowly he turns his back on Thomas.

"Avery Howel," he hisses.

Evan is so furious he can barely control himself. He throws the gun to the ground and glowers at Avery.

"Stop! No!" a terrible scream echoes through the club.

Avery turns to see Evan's bodyguards bending over Thomas. Thomas's pants are torn and his legs are covered in blood. The bodyguards have blood on their hands and they're holding something that looks like human skin.

Avery feels numb from her scalp to the soles of her feet. Have they peeled the skin off his legs? Just because she was sitting on his lap? She feels sick. What a terrible act! Trying not to vomit, she walks toward Evan.

"Are you angry? It's not healthy to get so upset," she says, "If you die tonight, will I be a widow?"

She has to admit that becoming a widow would solve her problems just as easily as a divorce. Motionless, Evan stares at her. He's never looked so infuriated she thinks.

"I'm just showing you some of the disadvantages of refusing a divorce. This is just the first time I'll cheat on you. If you're this upset now, imagine how awful it would be to watch it happen again and again," Avery smiles gently and persuasively, "I suggest you change your mind. The divorce can make us both happy, but if you refuse—"

Evan abruptly grabs Avery and throws her onto the sofa. Understanding that Evan wants to be alone with his wife, the bodyguards drag the bloodied suitors out of the club, shutting the door behind them. Only Evan and Avery remain in the huge club. The atmosphere is so tense, Avery can barely breathe.

Ferocious and grim, Evan walks towards Avery. She knows that she's provoked him and she's scared that he's going to attack her like he attacked Thomas. The door is close to the sofa. Instinctively, she gets up and grabs the doorknob, jerking the door ajar. But Evan is faster than she is, and he slams the door shut with a thud.

"If I refuse the divorce, will you always betray me with other men?" he asks.

Though threatening, Evan's question emboldens her. He looks furious, betrayed, and humiliated.

"I will. I dream of making love with many men. Hundreds of men."

"How dare you!" he hisses.

He grabs her chin with his large hand and presses her against the door.

"Were you satisfied with Thomas?" he asks, "Did you see what happened to him?"

Avery can't move, but she glares at him coldly.

Evan smiles menacingly, "Who will be next? What about Charles Meyer? Or your nanny?"

Charles Meyer? Nanny? Avery looks like she's been hit. Nanny is her weakness.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she bluffs.

"Hmm, I guess your nanny will be next," Evan threatens.

"But she's not even my biological mother," Avery protests, "She's just my nanny."

"Do you want to test me, you stubborn woman?" Evan asks.

He takes out his phone and prepares to make a call. Killing her nanny is as easy as killing an ant. He only needs to give the orders. As for Charles Meyer…

"Wait! Stop!" Avery said through gritted teeth. She involuntarily curls her fingers into a fist.

"Got you," he gloats.

He smiles coldly, satisfied with her response. He'd called her bluff, and she has revealed her true emotions. He'd never paid much attention to her before; if Avery hadn't visited her nanny last night, he still wouldn't know her weakness.

"You're contemptible!" she hisses.

Evan laughs. "Can you be a good girl?" he asks.

Avery scowls at him. She wants to tear his face to pieces. Unperturbed, he presses his hand onto her thigh. He's surprised to feel a hard lump in her pocket—the bottle of medicine Dr. Meyers gave to her. She attempts to reach for the bottle in her pocket as Evan begins to roughly rub and caress her thigh. She can feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her dress.

"What is it?"

The warm air of his breath tickles her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. As he continues to stroke her thighs, he pushes the medicine bottle out of her pocket and holds it against her inner thigh.

She can't help but tremble as she answers, "Medicine."

"What kind of medicine?"

"Cold medicine," she says, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. It was almost impossible to get the pills; she can't let him take them away from her.

Evan smiles coldly but does not attempt to inspect the medicine. Instead, he starts to push the bottle between her legs, rubbing it against the fabric of her underwear. He slowly rubs it back and forth as if he's punishing her.

"You're a monster!" she seethes.

She struggles to escape Evan's grasp, but she fails.

"You asshole!" she screams, "What are you doing?!"

"Keep cursing," he whispers, "I like being cursed. Especially when you do it."

Avery has nothing to say to this.

"Last chance," he warns, "What kind of medicine is it?"

"I'll tell you, but let go of me first!"

In desperation, she tries to kick Evan, but she can't even move her leg; his lower body is pressed too tightly against hers.

"You just lost your last chance."

Evan grabs her shoulders and roughly pushes her so her whole body is pressed into the door.

"Fine, I'll tell you what it is," she says, tired of provoking him.