The Untouchable Derek Cross

chapter 4

He turned and walked toward the door, his steps heavy with purpose.

"Derek, wait—" Linda started after him, panic in her voice.

Emily's voice stopped her. "Let him go, Mom. Megan sacrificed everything for him. If he doesn't show up tonight, if he doesn't fight for her, then he's not a man. He's just a coward who doesn't deserve to breathe."

Derek walked down the stairs, his mind sharp, his fury a living thing inside him. He stepped outside into the rain and flagged down a cab. The driver looked at him nervously.

"Where to?"

Derek's voice was flat, cold. "The Morrison estate."

**

The Morrison mansion blazed with light, glowing like a palace against the night sky. The driveway was packed with luxury cars Maseratis, Lamborghinis, Porsches, Maybachs, Rolls-Royces. Even the cheapest cars were Mercedes and BMWs. Wealth dripped from every corner.

Inside the grand ballroom, Richard Morrison sat at the head of the room on a throne-like chair, his face glowing with pride and satisfaction. Guests surrounded him, laughing, clinking glasses, offering their congratulations. The room buzzed with excitement.

Claire stood at the center of it all, dressed in a stunning red gown that probably cost more than most people made in a year. She was the star. Everyone wanted her attention, wanted to be near her. She smiled graciously, sipping her wine, looking down on them all like a queen surveying her subjects.

Once Morrison Corp went public, she'd be one of the richest, most powerful women in Riverstone City. Her fiancé, Adrian Freeman, came from one of the oldest, wealthiest families in the region. These people fawning over her now? They were beneath her. Insects.

Her eyes drifted lazily across the room and landed on a figure sitting alone in the corner, half-hidden in shadow.

A woman in plain white clothes. No jewelry. No makeup. Long hair falling over her face. A veil wrapped tightly around her head, covering everything but her eyes. She sat hunched over, head down, like she was trying to disappear.

At that moment Claire's smile widened. She set down her glass and walked over, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor.

"Oh, Megan. Why are you sitting here all alone in the dark? You used to be one of Riverstone City's four great beauties. Remember? Everyone used to worship you."

Her voice dripped with mock sweetness.

Megan's body went rigid. Her hands clenched in her lap. She didn't look up.

Every eye in the room turned toward her. Whispers spread like wildfire. Some people looked at her with pity. Most looked at her with amusement. Mockery. Disgust.

Megan forced herself to speak, her voice barely a whisper. "Miss... Miss Morrison."

Immediately Claire's hand shot out. She slapped Megan across the face, hard. The sound echoed through the room. Megan fell from her chair, hitting the floor.

"You think you're worthy of saying my name? You? A broken, ugly nobody?"

Claire grabbed the veil and ripped it off with one violent motion.

Megan's face was exposed.

Scars. Deep, jagged scars crisscrossed her skin, twisting her features into something grotesque. Her once-beautiful face was destroyed, unrecognizable.

Megan screamed, her hands flying up to cover her face. "Don't look! Please, don't look at me!"

Her voice was raw, desperate, breaking.

Someone in the crowd gasped. "Oh my God. That's disgusting."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"She used to be so gorgeous. What a waste."

"She rejected Marcus Patel, so he had her face destroyed. That's what happens when you're stupid and arrogant."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Claire laughed too, loud and cruel. "Look at that disgusting face. It's making me nauseous. You're an eyesore, Megan. A freak."

She crouched down, her voice dropping to something venomous.

"I heard you tried so hard to save Derek when he went to prison. You bribed people, begged for help, looked for evidence like a pathetic little dog. And what did you get? Marcus Patel ruined your face. Cut you over a hundred times. You were in a coma for two months. And Derek? He stayed in prison anyway."

Claire's smile was vicious.

"How pathetic. How utterly, completely pathetic."

She kicked Megan in the stomach. Hard. Megan gasped, curling up on the floor.

Claire kicked her again. And again. Each kick harder than the last. Her high heel dug into Megan's ribs, her back, her arms. Megan whimpered, trying to protect herself, but Claire didn't stop.

"You stupid, worthless bitch. You thought you were special. You thought you were better than everyone. Look at you now. You're nothing. Less than nothing."

Nathan Morrison walked over, grinning like a predator. "Sister, she's already a freak. Don't you think you're being a little harsh?"

He crouched down and shoved his shoe in front of Megan's face, so close she could smell the leather.

"Here's a deal, Megan. Kneel down and lick my shoe clean. Do that, and I'll let you leave."

Megan curled tighter, her body shaking violently. She couldn't stop trembling.

Nathan's grin vanished. His face twisted into something ugly, violent. "Lick it, bitch! I know you can lick other things, right? Can't even lick a damn shoe? You and that cripple Emily are the only two women who ever had the nerve to say no to me."

He grabbed her hair, yanking her head up.

"That crippled bitch is probably getting gang-raped by my guys right now. I heard you two are close. Best friends, right? Maybe you want the same treatment?"

His voice turned mocking, cruel.

"Your face is disgusting, but your body's still decent. I'm sure some homeless guys would take you. They're not picky."

He turned and shouted. "Someone grab her! Drag her out back and give her to the vagrants! Let them have some fun!"

The Morrison thugs closed in, grinning, their eyes hungry.

At that moment Megan tried to stand. Tried to run. Nathan kicked her legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard, her head bouncing off the marble.

"You rejected me, bitch. Told me I wasn't good enough for you. Now you're just a broken, ugly toy for the lowest trash to play with. Enjoy."

The thugs grabbed Megan's arms and legs. She screamed, thrashing, trying to fight. They laughed and started dragging her across the floor. Her hands clawed at the marble, nails breaking, fingers bleeding. She left long red streaks across the polished white floor.

"No! Please! Someone help me! Please, I'm begging you! Don't do this!"

At that moment her voice was raw, broken, desperate. Tears poured down her scarred face. She reached out toward the crowd, her hand shaking.

However nobody moved. Nobody said a word. They just watched.

Some looked away. Most kept staring, entertained.

Then—Two screams ripped through the ballroom, sharp and sudden.

Two Morrison guards flew through the entrance and crashed to the floor near the doorway, their bodies twisted, groaning in agony.

Immediately the music stopped. The room went silent.

"What the hell—"

"Is someone actually stupid enough to start trouble here?"

"Who would dare—"

At that moment everyone turned toward the entrance.

Then a figure stepped inside.

The air around him was thick, suffocating, heavy with murderous intent. It pressed down on everyone in the room like a weight crushing their chests. People struggled to breathe.

His pace was slow, deliberate, but it felt like a mountain collapsing, like a tidal wave rolling in, unstoppable, inevitable, ready to destroy everything in its path.