Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18 PART 1

Maxwell Lacey had been drinking. Not heavily-just enough to loosen his tongue and inflate his already considerable ego. He’d been R&D director for five years, had pursued Quinn Hartford back when she was just a promising junior Saintess, and had never quite forgiven her for choosing Marcus Steel over men

like him.

Now, emboldened by alcohol and the murmuring support of other disgruntled employees, Maxwell stood up from his table.

“You know what I don’t understand?” he announced loudly enough to cut through conversation. “How a sacred Saintess-someone chosen by divine bloodline to lead and heal-could lower herself to marry

common trash.”

The Imperial Hall went quiet. Several employees looked nervously at Quinn, then at Marcus.

“Maxwell,” Quinn said, her voice carrying warning. “Sit down.”

“No, no, let me finish,” Maxwell continued, his words slightly slurred. “Because I think it speaks to judgment, doesn’t it? The Hartford family trusted Quinn with a major project, gave her a leadership position, but her personal judgment is clearly flawed. I mean, look at him.” He gestured dismissively toward Marcus. “Three years unemployed. Living off his wife’s success. And we’re supposed to believe he suddenly has connections? Please.”

“That’s enough,” Quinn said, her Saintess aura flaring with anger.

“Is it though?” Maxwell’s voice turned uglier. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like our project leader made a catastrophically bad decision in her personal life, and now we’re all supposed to pretend it’s fine. That she’s not embarrassing the sacred Saintess bloodline by keeping this worthless nobody as

her husband.”

Marcus stood up. Slowly. Deliberately.

“What did you just say?” His voice was quiet, but it carried across the hall like thunder.

Maxwell smirked, emboldened by what he thought was Marcus’s weakness. “You heard me. You’re worthless. Common trash that somehow tricked a Saintess into marrying you. And the fact that Quinn hasn’t divorced you yet just proves she’s too naive to see-”

The slap echoed through the Imperial Hall like a gunshot.

Marcus’s hand moved faster than most people could track, his dragon-enhanced speed making the strike almost invisible. Maxwell’s head snapped to the side, the smirk wiped off his face along with a spray of blood from his split lip.

“What-” Maxwell started, his eyes wide with shock.

Marcus slapped him again. Harder this time.

The second impact sent Maxwell staggering backward into his chair, which tipped over and sent him

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crashing to the polished floor. His face was already swelling, one eye starting to close, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

The hall fell into absolute, stunned silence.

“You can insult me all you want,” Marcus said, his voice carrying that strange authority that made people instinctively step back. “But you will never speak about my wife’s judgment again. You will never question her Saintess dignity. And you will never, ever disrespect her in my presence.”

He turned to the waiters stationed along the walls. “Remove him. Like you removed Mrs. Lancaster. Throw him out like the trash he just proved himself to be.”

The staff hesitated for only a moment-Maxwell was an R&D director, someone with corporate power- but Marcus’s obsidian card trumped corporate hierarchy. Two waiters moved forward immediately.

“You can’t do this!” Maxwell sputtered through his broken mouth, blood staining his expensive shirt. “I’m a director! I have rights! Quinn, tell him-”

“I didn’t hear anything that needed telling,” Quinn said coldly, her Saintess aura pulsing with barely controlled fury. Not at Marcus-at Maxwell for daring to publicly question her judgment and her sacred

bloodline.

The waiters grabbed Maxwell’s arms and hauled him toward the exit, his protests growing more desperate with each step.

“This is assault! I’ll press charges! You’re all witnesses! Quinn, you can’t let him get away with-

The doors closed on his voice.

The employees stared at Marcus with completely different eyes now. This wasn’t the submissive son-in- law who’d endured three years of mockery without fighting back. This was someone who’d just struck an R&D director twice in front of dozens of witnesses and showed absolutely no remorse.

Someone who’d defended a Saintess’s honor so brazenly-as if he had the right. As if he was more than just her contractual husband.

“Holy shit,” someone whispered.

“Did you see how fast he moved? I barely saw his hand.”

“And the way the staff just obeyed him… who the hell is Marcus Steel really?”

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CHAPTER 18 PART 2

Quinn looked at her husband-this stranger who’d just defended her honor more fiercely than anyone had in years-and felt something shift inside her chest. Not love. Not even affection. But something.

Recognition, perhaps. That Marcus Steel was no longer someone she could control or predict.

Outside Azure Pierce, Tessa Hartford sat on the curb, her designer dress torn, her makeup ruined, her dignity shattered. She’d been thrown down the stairs. Actually physically removed from the building like some common drunk.

Carter Lancaster paced beside her, his face purple with rage, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Silas? Yeah, it’s Carter. I need a favor. A big one.”

Silas Cooper’s voice came through rough and amused. “What kind of favor?”

“The kind where you bring your boys and teach someone a lesson about respecting the Lancaster and

Hartford families.”

A pause. “Who pissed you off this time?”

“Marcus Steel. Quinn Hartford’s worthless husband. He’s holed up in Azure Pierce’s Imperial Hall pretending he’s somebody important.”

Silas laughed-a sound like gravel in a blender. “Marcus Steel? The unemployed nobody? What’d he do, look at you funny?”

“He had my wife thrown down the stairs!” Carter snarled. “Had her humiliated in front of everyone! I want him broken, Silas. I want him to understand what happens when you disrespect people with actual

power.”

“I’m on my way,” Silas said, and the line went dead.

Twenty minutes later, Silas Cooper arrived with five of his thugs-men who looked like they’d been carved from prison concrete and bad decisions. Silas himself was massive, six-foot-five of muscle and scars, with a reputation for being the kind of enforcer even other criminals avoided.

“Where is he?” Silas demanded.

“Imperial Hall, top floor,” Carter said eagerly. “But listen-the guy has some kind of black card. The staff are treating him like royalty.”

Silas snorted. “Probably borrowed it. Or stole it. Guys like Marcus Steel don’t have real connections.”

They marched toward the entrance. Tobias Pierce intercepted them immediately, his face going pale when he recognized Silas.

“Mr. Cooper, please, there’s been a misunderstanding-”

“Save it,” Silas growled. “I’m here for Marcus Steel.”

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