THE HUSBAND THEY BULLIED, THE KING THEY FEARED

CHAPTER 9: RED LIGHT

RED LIGHT

Damien took a step back, his jaws tightening as Margaret stepped off the elevator. He grabbed Elara's hand, pulling her behind him as the old lady glared at him with disgust.

“What the hell are you doing here, you bastard?” Margaret asked, her voice sharp as she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Have you been following me? Running around, chasing my tail. You want me to beg Vanessa for you, right?"

Damien grabbed Margaret's hand, pulling it off his shirt. Margaret, shocked by his audacity, scoffed, her eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into slits.

His expression unchanging, Damien adjusted his squeezed collar and inhaled slowly. "This isn't the time, Margaret," he said quietly. "We'll leave now.”

Turning to Elara, he gently grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the elevator. He didn't want any drama, but Margaret seemed to thrive on it.

“And where the hell do you think you're going?" she asked, her voice echoing across the hallway as she stepped in front of Damien. “You haven't told me what you're here for."

Damien, remaining calm, looked over Margaret's shoulder at her two friends still in the elevator. He recognized the sneer they wore on their face–they were Margaret's friends from the apartment. Both had their hands wedged in the door gap, preventing the elevator from closing.

“Your daughter and I are divorced," he said, returning his gaze back to Margaret. "My life from now on is none of your business."

Anna and Theresa froze, their jaws slack as they stared at him. Was this really the same long-suffering, submissive husband they’d always pitied? The one who never talked back, who let Margaret trample over him like a servant? The disbelief on their faces said it all—whatever they’d expected, it definitely wasn’t this.

“You bastard," she snapped, her voice filled with rage. “How dare you speak to me like that? Do you not know how to respect your elders?” She turned to Elara who still stood behind Damien. "Or is your mistress here the reason for your bravado?"

"Stop,” Damien said, his jaw tightening.

“Oh, I called it!" Margaret let out a wicked grin, full of scheming intent. “You really picked this…” she ran her gaze over Elara, "... thing as a replacement for my daughter? Oh, you really aren't picky.”

Elara's breath caught, her face squeezing with an angry frown. She knew it wasn't in her place to react as this wasn't her turf, but that old woman didn’t just insult her—she insulted Damian, her savior! The man had saved her from thugs and promised to help her start up her company again. This vain old woman was just looking for trouble and she wasn't going to stand that.

“Have some respect, Margaret," Damien said, his voice low.

"Respect?” Margaret scoffed. "You leeched off my daughter for years, robbing her of everything good. You're a fucking parasite. You don't deserve any fucking respect."

Elara pushed Damien's hand to the side and stepped forward, her gaze locked on Margaret. "Enough!” she said with a straight face. "Ma’am, watch your words, Damian is a–"

“Oh, shut up, you whore," Margaret cut her short, waving her hand at her. “You have no right to interfere in family matters. You have no right to even speak before me."

"I'm just trying to–”

"Oh, please," Margaret scorned, eyeing Elara with disgust. "I know your type. Hanging around men with money always, waiting to get lucky.” She turned to Damien. "Whatever this bastard said he was going to pay you with is a lie. He has nothing. You slept with a man with nothing."

She continued, "Actually, anything that he gave you came from my daughter. He has never had a single penny in his life. His only duty was to steal and eat off of my daughter.” She stretched her hand. “Just hand it over. Whatever he paid you. Every last penny belongs to me, not some broke whore!”

Elara frowned, stepping forward. "I didn't sleep with–"

"Don't lie to me!" Margaret barked, shoving her roughly.

Elara stumbled backward, but Damien caught her, wrapping his hands firmly around her.

“Stop, Margaret," he warned calmly. “There is nothing improper between us, Margaret.”

Margaret scoffed. "Oh really?” she sneered, stepping closer. "Nothing improper between you and her, yet you’re meeting behind my daughter’s back in a fucking hotel?!”

Anna and Theresa snicker behind Maragaret, their whispers reaching Elara's hearing.

“I can't believe Damien stooped so low for a cheap whore," Anna whispered to Theresa.

“Stooped so low?" Theresa scoffed, raising her voice just loud enough for the two to hear clearly. “The two clearly deserve each other. Both good-for-nothings eat what does not belong to them.”

"You better pay up, Damien,” Anna said, rolling her eyes.

Elara’s jaw tightened. "That’s right—I owe him, and I’ll pay him back. He saved me, brought me here, and gave me a place to stay. It's such a huge debt, and I have to repay it!"

Margaret and her friends stared at her before erupting into laughter.

"You? In this building?" Margaret choked. "Sweetie, this is the most expensive penthouse in the state." She pointed at Damien jokingly. "He could NEVER afford this place."

“Damien–"

"My daughter's fiancé bought the penthouse here,” she cut Elara short. “Sebastian bought it. Not you."

Elara’s lips twitched into a faint smile—half amusement, half disbelief. She really thinks she knows him, she thought. If only she’d seen what he’s capable of, she wouldn’t talk so high and mighty.

"Let's go," Damien whispered, grasping Elara's hand and pulling her toward the elevator. Margaret snorted once more, believing she had won.

"That's right. Run away like you always do!" she yelled after him. "You got lucky this time! But next time, I'll rip your skin off!"

Anna and Theresa walked out of the elevator, letting go of the door gap as Damien's and Elara walked in. They snickered as it began to close. The elevator doors snapped shut and a slow hum reverberated through the hallway as it began to descend.

Margaret lifted her chin, lips curling into a smug smile. So that’s how it is, she thought triumphantly. He ran off with her? Good. Let him. Dirt deserves dirt.

“Forget the good-for-nothing,” Anna said, tugging Margaret’s arm. “Come on, let’s go see the house!”

“Yes, yes, I can’t wait,” Theresa added, hiding her jealousy with an eager smile. “I can tell it’s going to be breathtaking.”

“Oh, yes," Margaret said with a low chuckle, brushing stray hair from her shoulder. "Sebastian has good taste, of course."

She lifted the keycard with confidence and slowly tapped it against the scanner, waiting for the door to click open. But then–

Beep.

Red light.

“Red?" Margaret muttered under her breath. She grabbed the handle and pushed but the door stayed locked. “Probably upside down."

She flipped the card and tapped again but just like before, she was greeted with another beep and a flash of red.

The hallway went quiet and Margaret’s smile faltered. Her friends began to whisper behind her, urging her to try again. Slowly, her grin began to fade after she tried and tried again but was met with the same result.

Anna scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. “Maybe, Sebastian just gave you a wrong keycard–”

Suddenly, a loud electronic shriek erupted from the scanned and a blaring security alarm screamed through the hallway. Red lights flashed above the door and the three friends stepped back.

“W-What’s happening?” Theresa asked, turning to her friend. “Is it a fire alarm?!”

Margaret went quiet. She knew exactly what it was–and it was definitely not a fire alarm.

Then, the sound of rushing footsteps echoed across the place and the three turned. Armed security officers rushed out of the elevator, batons and radios in hand.

“Step away from the door!” one of them shouted.

Theresa grabbed Anna’s arm. “Let’s go—!”

“STOP.” Another guard blocked them. “Nobody leaves.”

Margaret forced a stiff smile and tried to step forward. “There must be some mistake. This is my daugh—”

The guard didn’t let her finish as he pulled out his baton. “Get to the ground NOW!” he barked.

They all dropped to the ground, shaking with fear as the guards rushed to them. Their arms pinned behind them, the men cuffed them. They didn't struggle, only watched silently with fear etched in their faces.

“We'll call the police," Margaret heard one of the guards say to his colleague. “They will come take these trespassers and put them where they belong."