Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 13

Chapter 13

+25 Bonus

The Hartford Group employees were already turning toward the exit, their phones still out, their conversations a mixture of mockery and satisfied vindication. Quinn stood frozen at the reception desk, mascara streaking her face, her Saintess composure shattered into a thousand pieces.

Then a calm voice cut through the chaos like a knife through silk.

“I have a card. Maybe it will work.”

Every head turned.

Marcus stepped forward, his expression utterly unreadable, his movements calm and deliberate. He reached into his jacket pocket with the kind of unhurried confidence that made the mockery pause-just

for a moment-before erupting even louder than before.

“Oh my God,” Jessica was the first to laugh. “Is he serious right now?”

“Marcus Steel thinks he has a VIP card!” Robert Chen doubled over, wheezing with laughter. “This is even

better than Quinn’s failure! This is comedy gold!”

“Wait, wait, let me record this,” someone else said, raising their phone higher. “I want to capture the exact moment when reality hits him.”

Quinn stiffened beside Marcus, her tear-stained face shifting from despair to confusion to something that might have been hope-or might have been dread. She knew something had changed in him since the earthquake. The way he’d survived, the way he’d agreed to this arrangement too easily, the way he looked at her now with those cold, distant eyes.

But this? This was either going to save her or destroy what little remained of her reputation.

“Marcus,” Quinn whispered, her voice urgent and low. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, just continued toward the reception desk where Madison waited with professional neutrality.

Oliver limped forward, his bruised face twisted in malicious delight. “Oh, please, please show us this magical card, brother-in-law. I’m dying to see what a man who’s been unemployed for three years considers a VIP membership.”

“Probably one of those fake cards you can buy online,” Wesley Hartford chimed in-Quinn’s uncle, a man who’d made his contempt for Marcus clear at every family gathering. “You know, the ones that say ‘VIP’ but are actually just plastic garbage from discount stores.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd again, crueler now, building momentum.

“Marcus hasn’t spent five hundred dollars at a nice restaurant in his entire life,” Jessica added, her voice dripping with scorn. “And we’re supposed to believe he has a card that requires five million annual spending? The man lives off Quinn’s charity! He’s a freeloader playing dress-up as her husband!”

1/3

+25 Bonus

“This is embarrassing,” another voice called out. “Quinn, seriously, make him stop before he makes things worse.”

Quinn’s hand reached out, catching Marcus’s arm. “Marcus, please. Let’s just go. We can leave quietly. Preserve what dignity we have left.”

Her voice carried that familiar cold indifference, but underneath it, Marcus detected something else with his enhanced senses-desperation. Fear. And yes, a tiny, conflicting spark of hope that maybe, somehow, he could actually pull this off and protect her reputation as their agreement stipulated.

But before Quinn could pull him away, Oliver moved to block their exit, his injured body swaying slightly but his eyes burning with vindictive purpose.

“Oh no,” Oliver said, spreading his arms wide despite the obvious pain it caused his cracked ribs. “No, no, no. You don’t get to walk away now, Marcus. You made a claim. You said you have a card. I insist you

show it to all of us.”

“Oliver, this is unnecessary-” Quinn started.

“Unnecessary?” Oliver’s laugh was harsh. “Your husband just claimed he can afford something that costs five million dollars a year! That’s not unnecessary, cousin. That’s relevant. Because if he’s lying- and we all know he is-then everyone here needs to see exactly what kind of man you chose to marry.”

“The kind who pretends to be something he’s not,” Wesley Hartford added, stepping forward to join Oliver. “The kind who embarrasses his wife by playing games way above his station. Honestly, Quinn, I don’t know what you were thinking with this one. The family tried to warn you.”

“He’s a joke,” Robert Chen agreed. “A useless freeloader who contributes nothing, earns nothing, and now wants to pretend he’s some kind of VIP? It’s pathetic.”

“It’s insulting,” Jessica corrected. “Insulting to everyone here who actually works for their money. Who actually earned their positions through merit instead of marrying into them.”

The phones stayed raised, recording every moment. This was content gold-the useless son-in-law about to be exposed as a fraud while his Saintess wife watched her reputation crumble.

Quinn’s fingers tightened on Marcus’s arm, her nails digging in through his jacket. “Marcus, stop. Please. This isn’t worth it. Let’s just go.”

Marcus paused, looking at his wife-at her tear-stained face, her trembling hands, her desperate attempt to salvage what remained of her dignity. Part of her wanted him to succeed, he could sense it. Not for his sake, but to protect her reputation as their agreement stipulated. The conflict was written in every line of her body.

But Oliver wasn’t done. He stepped even closer, blocking their path completely, his bruised face inches from Marcus’s.

“Show. The. Card,” Oliver demanded, his voice carrying across the lobby. “Right now. Or admit you’re a liar and a fraud who’s been wasting everyone’s time.”

2/3

+25 Bonus

“Do it, Marcus,” Wesley Hartford added with cruel anticipation. “Show us this mysterious VIP card. Prove you’re not the worthless nobody we all know you are.”

“Yeah, Marcus,” Robert Chen chimed in. “Don’t be shy. Let everyone see what kind of ‘card’ a unemployed

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify