Bound by the Past, Locked by the Heart novel Chapter 105

Over the past few years, Randal had cultivated a ruthless, unpredictable reputation, leaving a trail of bruised egos across their social circles.

But because he held the keys to the Yates empire, no one had the spine to cross him directly. The most they dared was to hurl cowardly, passive-aggressive jabs when they thought they could get away with it.

The instigator was a minor player from the York family named Morgan York, distantly related to Zack. Morgan was notorious for having a big mouth and a desperate need for attention.

The entire room held its breath, waiting for the slaughter.

Willa's face burned, a suffocating wave of humiliation threatening to pull her under.

She instinctively tried to pull away, but Randal's grip turned into a vice, his fingers locking forcefully through hers.

"Morgan York, right?" Randal's lips curled into a lethal smirk, his eyes narrowing with pure malice.

Morgan's stomach dropped at the predatory gaze, but he kept his arrogant smile glued in place. "Mr. Yates has a flawless memory."

"I heard you blew eight million dollars at a Vegas casino last month, and your daddy had to fly out to bail your pathetic ass out. I'm just curious—how many more bailouts can your trust fund handle before you bankrupt the family?"

Morgan's smile shattered.

A chorus of muffled scoffs rippled through the gathered crowd.

Randal didn't let up. "What? Daddy kissed your boo-boos and suddenly you think you've got the balls to police my life?"

Morgan's face flushed a violent crimson. His hands balled into tight fists. "I—"

"And another thing," Randal cut him off, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm register. "I know exactly what her relationship with him was. Who gave a bottom-feeder like you permission to rewrite history?"

A bystander desperately tried to defuse the bomb, chuckling nervously. "Come on, Mr. Yates, don't take it personal. Morgan's just an idiot with no filter. He didn't mean anything by it..."

Randal slowly turned his head, locking onto the peacemaker. "Who the hell are you?"

The man turned instantly pale.

Randal dismissed him, lifting his glass to take a slow, arrogant sip.

"If you're all so desperate for my attention, let's get one thing straight. People who throw themselves onto my blade end up bleeding out. Anyone else want a turn?"

The room went dead silent.

Willa stood frozen at his side, her palms slick with nervous sweat.

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