LAPDOG HUSBAND IS A TRILLIONAIRE HEIR

CHAPTER 47

The news traveled fast—faster than wildfire in a dry forest.

Inside the Shaw mansion, Katherine shrieked with laughter as she tossed a glass of champagne into the air, uncaring when it splashed onto the marble floor.

“He’s finally where he belongs!” Katherine squealed, spinning around to hug her mother tightly. "Locked up like the filthy street rat he is!"

Mrs. Shaw clapped her hands together, her diamond bracelets jangling with excitement. "Oh, darling, you’ve outdone yourself this time! That pathetic househusband finally learned his place."

James lounged lazily on the sofa, a satisfied smirk playing across his lips as he scrolled through his phone.

"Didn't I tell you?" James said, puffing out his chest. "Give me one night, and I’ll turn him into a broken dog."

"You’re amazing, James!" Katherine gushed, her eyes practically glittering. "You actually did it."

James winked at her, then made a casual call, tapping his phone screen with a smugness that reeked of victory.

"Yeah. He's in holding now," James said into the phone, voice low and sinister. "Make sure he doesn’t forget this night for the rest of his miserable life."

There was a pause, and then James chuckled darkly.

"Break a few ribs if you have to. Teach him some respect."

Katherine giggled behind her hand like a giddy schoolgirl.

"Make it hurt," she whispered, barely able to contain her excitement.

Tonight, the so-called Yemin Morgan would finally be crushed.

Meanwhile, back at the jail, the atmosphere was heavy with the stench of sweat, piss, and old anger.

Yemin stood by the iron bars, his hands casually stuffed into his pockets, watching the lazy officers behind the desk.

"I want my phone call," he said, his voice steady but sharp enough to cut through stone.

The cops exchanged smirks like schoolboys hiding a prank.

"Phone call?" one of them scoffed, chewing gum loudly. "Who do you think you are, buddy? Some kind of celebrity?"

Another officer laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair.

"Yeah, sure. You can call your mommy after we’re done showing you how we treat car thieves here."

Yemin’s eyes narrowed.

Pathetic. Brainless attack dogs.

Before he could say another word, two officers grabbed him roughly by the arms and dragged him down a dim corridor.

The door to the holding cell swung open with a loud metallic clang.

Inside, a group of men looked up—tattooed, rough, grinning with broken teeth and bloodshot eyes. James’s goons.

One of them, a hulking brute with a snake tattoo curled around his neck, cracked his knuckles and grinned like a wolf.

"Look what we got here, boys," he drawled, stepping forward. "The big shot who thought he could swim with sharks."

Another man laughed and spat on the floor.

"You scream all you want, pretty boy. Ain’t nobody comin’ to save your ass."

Yemin’s lips twitched, almost in amusement.

They think this is going to scare me?

The door slammed shut behind him.

The air thickened with the heavy stench of violence.

"You should’ve known better," Snake Neck sneered, circling Yemin like a vulture. "When real men talk, little punks like you crawl away with your tails tucked."

"You thought drivin’ a fancy car makes you a big man?" another thug jeered. "It just means you’re a bigger target."

The gang closed in, their boots scraping against the filthy floor.

"On your knees, boy," Snake Neck ordered, jabbing a thick finger into Yemin’s chest. "Maybe if you beg real nice, we’ll go easy on you."

The rest of the cell exploded with laughter, banging fists against the iron beds and walls.

Yemin looked around slowly, his face utterly calm.

"No thanks," he said dryly, his voice slicing through their jeers like a whip.

Snake Neck’s grin widened.

"Suit yourself. Break him."

The first punch flew.