Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12 PART 1

The Azure Pierce Hotel’s main lobby was a cathedral of wealth-polished marble floors that reflected the massive crystal chandeliers, walls adorned with contemporary art that cost more than most houses, and staff dressed in uniforms that probably required more training than a medical degree.

Quinn approached the reception desk with the confidence of someone who’d never been denied anything in her life, Marcus trailing a step behind playing his role as the dutiful husband. The Hartford Group employees clustered nearby, phones already out, anticipation crackling in the air like electricity before a storm.

“Good evening,” Quinn said to the receptionist, her professional smile firmly in place. “Reservation for Hartford Group. We should have a table in the main dining room.”

The receptionist-a young woman with perfect makeup and a nameplate reading “Madison”-checked her computer with practiced efficiency. Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly, and Marcus’s enhanced senses caught the slight tightening around her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hartford,” Madison said with polite regret. “The entire first floor has been reserved by the Brand family for a private event this evening. We don’t have any available tables in the main dining area.”

The words landed like a bomb.

Quinn’s smile faltered. “That’s… there must be some mistake. I made arrangements-”

“I’m showing no reservation under Hartford Group for tonight,” Madison interrupted gently. “However, we do have VIP box seating available on the second floor if you’re interested?”

“Perfect!” Quinn’s relief was palpable. “Yes, we’ll take a VIP box. How many can it accommodate?”

“Our boxes comfortably seat twelve to fifteen guests. The rate is-” Madison paused, her expression professionally neutral, “-five million dollars annual membership, plus the evening’s dining charges.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Quinn’s face went from relieved to pale to absolutely bloodless in the span of three seconds. “Five… five

million?”

“Yes, ma’am. The Azure Pierce VIP membership requires five million dollars in annual spending to maintain access to our exclusive dining areas. Would you like to proceed with the application?”

Behind them, someone laughed. Then another. Then the entire Hartford Group contingent erupted into barely suppressed mockery.

“Did she just say five million?”

“Oh my God, Quinn actually thought she could afford that?”

“This is priceless. Absolutely priceless.”

1/2

+25 Bonus

Quinn stood frozen at the reception desk, her hands visibly trembling. Marcus could see her Saintess aura flickering erratically-embarrassment, fury, and panic warring for dominance. This was worse than a simple booking error. This was public humiliation of the most visceral kind, and it was happening in front of every Hartford Group employee who’d ever resented her promotion.

“Ms. Hartford?” Madison prompted gently. “Should I process the membership application?”

“I… I don’t…” Quinn’s voice came out strangled.

“She can’t afford it!” Robert Chen announced loudly, his voice carrying across the lobby. “The great Quinn Hartford, the Saintess who promised us the perfect venue, can’t even afford a basic VIP membership!”

“Maybe she expected Skyler Reed to pay for it,” Jessica added with vicious sweetness. “Isn’t that how she usually gets things done? Other people’s money for other people’s… favors?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, cruel and unforgiving.

Oliver limped forward, his bruised face arranged in an expression of false concern. “Cousin, cousin, please. Don’t be embarrassed. We all understand that not everyone can afford Azure Pierce’s standards. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You lying bastard,” Quinn hissed, her composure cracking. “You set this up. You knew the Brand family had booked the entire floor-”

“I knew?” Oliver pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “How could I possibly know? You’re the one who sent that email promising to handle the venue arrangements. You’re the one who told everyone to come here at three p.m. I’m just an injured man who showed up where his project manager told him to

be.”

“You manipulated the timeline!” Quinn’s voice rose, drawing even more attention. “You deliberately-”

“Are you saying I hacked your email account?” Oliver’s smile was venomous. “Because that’s a serious accusation, Quinn. Do you have proof? Or are you just trying to blame someone else for your own incompetence?”

Comments

Support

Share

2/2

+25 Bonus

CHAPTER 12 PART 2

The employees were recording now-multiple phones out, capturing every second of Quinn Hartford’s public meltdown. This would be all over social media within the hour. The Saintess who couldn’t deliver on her promises. The project manager who wasted everyone’s time. The woman who slept her way to a promotion and couldn’t even handle basic event planning.

“This is unbelievable,” someone muttered loudly enough to be heard. “She dragged us all here for nothing.”

“I took time off to attend this dinner. My wife is going to kill me.”

“Should’ve known better than to trust a Saintess who married a nobody. Judgment that bad extends to everything.”

Quinn’s hands shook as she turned back to Madison. “Isn’t there… isn’t there anything else available? Any other options?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Madison said, and she actually did sound sympathetic. “Without the VIP membership, I can’t offer you seating tonight. The Brand family has exclusive access to all public dining areas.”

“What about the bar? The lounge?” Quinn was grasping at straws now, her professional mask completely

shattered.

“Also reserved, I’m afraid.”

“So you’re telling me-” Quinn’s voice cracked, “-that unless I pay five million dollars right now, there’s no way for me to accommodate my colleagues?”

“That’s correct, ma’am.”

The humiliation was complete. Total. Devastating.

Quinn turned to face the Hartford Group employees, her face pale, her Saintess aura flickering like a dying light. Marcus could see tears forming in her eyes-the first genuine emotion he’d seen from her that wasn’t cold indifference or calculated manipulation.

“I… I apologize,” Quinn said, her voice barely above a whisper. “There was clearly a miscommunication about the venue. I take full responsibility for this error. I’m truly sorry for wasting everyone’s time.”

“A miscommunication?” Jessica’s laugh was sharp as broken glass. “You promised us the Azure Pierce Grand Ballroom! You sent out official emails! You made commitments you couldn’t keep!”

“Maybe she thought Alexander Grant would swoop in and save her,” someone else added. “Where is lover boy when you need him?”

“Probably realized what a liability she is and jumped ship.”

“Can’t blame him. Who wants to be associated with this kind of incompetence?”

1/3

+25 Bonus

Quinn’s tears spilled over now, running down her perfectly made-up face in mascara-stained tracks. Her whole body trembled with humiliation and rage and helplessness. The Saintess-the woman who’d abandoned Marcus to die while saving Alexander, who’d demanded he play the devoted husband while treating him like dirt-was breaking apart in front of dozens of witnesses with cameras.

Her eyes found Marcus, standing quietly a few feet away. The look she gave him was desperate, pleading, commanding all at once: Do something. You’re supposed to be playing the good husband. This is your role. Fix this.

Marcus met her gaze with absolutely no expression.

He could fix this, actually. One call to Aaron Jackson, and the entire Azure Pierce would be theirs. The Brand family would be politely relocated, the VIP membership would materialize, and Quinn would be saved from complete professional destruction.

But why should he?

She’d left him to die. She’d chosen Alexander over him again and again. She’d forced him into this one- year arrangement where he was nothing but a prop for her career advancement while she carried on whatever relationship she wanted.

Let her learn what it felt like to be helpless. To be humiliated. To beg for help that wouldn’t come.

“Marcus,” Quinn whispered, her voice breaking. “Please…”

Oliver noticed the exchange and laughed. “Oh, this is rich! She’s actually asking him for help? What’s Marcus going to do-beg the receptionist? Offer to do their laundry in exchange for a table?”

More laughter. More phone cameras capturing every second.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify