Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 121

CHAPTER 111

Finnian Ridge’s scream tore through the treasure room with primal agony. His hands flew to his face-skin already reddening and blistering where scalding tea had splashed across his features. Tears streamed from his eyes, mixing with tea that dripped from his hair and expensive designer clothes now ruined beyond salvage.

“KILL HER!” Finnian shrieked, his voice climbing to a hysterical pitch as pain overwhelmed his earlier arrogance. “KILL THEM BOTH! Derek! Vincent! Jason! SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING!”

His six companions-wealthy young masters who’d laughed at his jokes and enabled his cruelty for years-stood frozen in absolute terror. Their eyes darted between Finnian’s burned face, Cosmo’s calm expression, and Marcus Steel’s utterly unmoved posture.

These were the same guards at the gate who’d been beaten unconscious. Professional security, trained fighters, taken down effortlessly by this man and woman. And Finnian-stupid, arrogant Finnian-had just provoked them inside their own stronghold.

“Well?” Cosmo asked pleasantly, still holding the teapot. “Your friends seem hesitant. Perhaps they’re smarter than you are, Young Master Ridge.”

“You-you BITCH!” Finnian tried to stand, his legs trembling. “I’m the Ridge Family heir! My grandfather will—”

“Your grandfather,” Cosmo interrupted, lifting the teapot again, “will learn what happens when spoiled children mistake inheritance for invincibility.”

She tilted the pot. The remaining tea-still steaming, still scalding-poured directly onto Finnian’s head.

His second scream was worse than the first. The liquid cascaded over his scalp, down his neck, soaking into his collar. Skin that had merely reddened before now blistered immediately, the chemical burns creating angry welts across his face and shoulders.

Finnian collapsed to the marble floor, writhing like a dying insect, hands clawing at burns that wouldn’t stop hurting no matter what he did.

“Impressive endurance,” Cosmo observed mockingly. “Most would have passed out by now. You must be very strong, Young Master Ridge. Or perhaps just very stupid.”

She turned her attention to the six frozen young masters. “You. The one in the blue jacket. What’s your name?”

Derek Walsh’s face had gone white as chalk. “I-I’m Derek Walsh, son of ”

“I don’t care who your father is,” Cosmo interrupted. “Kneel.”

“What?”

“Kneel. On the floor. Now,” Her voice carried no anger, no emotion-just flat certainty that disobedience would end badly.

Derek dropped to his knees so fast he bruised them on the marble. Then, without being told, he began slamming his forehead against the floor. Thunk. Thunk, Thunk. Blood appeared after the third impact, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t dare stop.

“The rest of you,” Cosmo said calmly, “Join him.”

Five wealthy young masters-heirs to fortunes, children of influence-dropped and began kowtowing with desperate intensity. The treasure room filled with the rhythmic sound of foreheads striking marble, punctuated by Finnian’s continuous screaming.

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Marcus Steel stood perfectly still throughout the entire spectacle, his dragon aura radiating cold judgment. He said nothing. Did nothing. Simply observed as entitled cruelty met consequences that wealth couldn’t deflect.

The treasure room doors burst open.

Truman Ridge rushed in carrying an ornate jade artifact-the Moonlight Jade he’d retrieved from the vault-his aged face beaming with anticipation of presenting it to the Young Master. The smile died instantly when he saw the scene before him.

His grandson. His beloved Finnian. Rolling on the floor with blistered, burned skin. Six young masters kneeling and bleeding. And the woman-the guest he’d specifically ordered treated with utmost respect-standing calmly with an empty teapot.

“What-“The jade artifact nearly slipped from Truman’s trembling hands. “What happened here?!”

“GRANDFATHER!” Finnian’s voice was broken by sobs. “She attacked me! That woman-she poured boiling tea on my face! Kill her! PLEASE! Make her suffer like I’m suffering!”

More footsteps thundered through the halls. Thaddeus Ridge-Finnian’s father, Truman’s son-arrived with a dozen Ridge Family guards, all drawn by the screaming.

“FINNIAN!” Thaddeus saw his son’s condition and rage exploded across his features. “Who did this?! WHO DARED?!”

“Her!” Finnian pointed at Cosmo with a shaking hand. “That bitch! Arrest her! Torture her! Boil her alive!”

“GET OUT!” Truman roared at the kneeling young masters. “All of you! Leave immediately!”

“NO!” Finnian’s protest was desperate. “Bring them back! I want them to watch! I want everyone to see what happens to people who attack me!”

The young masters scrambled to obey, terrified of both leaving and staying. Truman’s authority won-they fled through the doors only to be dragged back by Ridge Family guards on Finnian’s insistence, forced to kneel again as witnesses to whatever vengeance was coming.

“Capture that woman,” Thaddeus ordered his guards. “I don’t care how Break her legs if necessary.”

“Boil water!” Another Ridge elder-Finnian’s uncle Mitchell-demanded. “Boiling water! Let her feel what my nephew felt!”

“Torture her first,” Finnian gasped through tears and pain. “I want to hear her scream! I want-”

Truman’s hand raised, and silence crashed over the room. His aged face carried fury beyond anything his family had seen in decades. The beloved grandfather, always patient, always measured, transformed into something ancient and wrathful.

“Prepare restraints,” Truman said coldly. “Secure the woman. And bring-

Marcus Steel stood.

The motion was simple. Ordinary. Just a man rising from his position observing paintings.

But the dragon aura that exploded outward made every person in the treasure room freeze as if turned to stone.

The air itself became heavy. Oppressive. The kind of pressure that made survival instincts scream predator louder than rational thought could process. Paintings rattled on walls. The jade artifact in Truman’s hands vibrated with resonance to the ancient power filling the space.

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And suddenly, Truman Ridge remembered.

Remembered who Marcus Steel really was.

Remembered what stood before him.

His hand shot out and slapped Thaddeus across the face with shocking force. His own son-Finnian’s father- stumbled from the blow, staring at his father with absolute incomprehension.

“Father?! What are you-”

Truman dropped to his knees.

The movement was so sudden, so impossible, that the entire Ridge Family stood paralyzed. The patriarch. The head of their clan. The man who’d built their fortune through decades of calculated decisions and careful alliances.

Kneeling.

“Holy Master,” Truman said, his voice thick with terror and desperate reverence. “Forgive me. Forgive my family. We-we didn’t know-”

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