Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

Silas Cooper swaggered into the Imperial Hall like he owned it, beer bottle dangling from one massive hand, his five thugs spreading out behind him with practiced intimidation. Their boots tracked mud across the pristine floor, their leather jackets reeked of cigarettes and cheap cologne, and their eyes scanned the room with predatory assessment.

Outside, Carter Lancaster and Tessa Hartford waited eagerly, already anticipating the sounds of violence, the satisfaction of watching Marcus Steel get what they believed he deserved.

One of Silas’s men immediately slapped a waiter who tried to intercept them. The crack of palm against cheek echoed through the hall, followed by the waiter stumbling backward, hand pressed to his reddening face.

“Sorry about that,” Silas called out with false cheer, his voice booming across the stunned silence. “My boys get a little enthusiastic sometimes. We’re just here to offer a friendly drink. You know, celebrate with the host of this fine establishment.”

His tone made it abundantly clear there was nothing friendly about this visit.

“Who’s the host here?” Silas demanded, his eyes scanning the room. “Who do I have the pleasure of toasting tonight?”

All eyes turned to Quinn.

She stood slowly, her Saintess aura glowing faintly around her-not aggressive, but present, a subtle reminder of her divine bloodline and the power she carried. Her face remained composed, though Marcus’s enhanced senses caught the rapid beating of her heart.

“I’m Quinn Hartford,” she said, her voice steady. “Project leader for Hartford Group. This is a company

dinner.”

“Quinn Hartford!” Silas grinned, showing teeth that had clearly seen a few fights. “The famous Saintess! What an honor! Come, come, let’s have a drink together. Toast to your success.”

He thrust a beer bottle toward her.

Quinn hesitated, her Saintess training screaming that accepting this would be a mistake. But refusing would likely escalate the situation into violence that could harm her employees.

She took the bottle.

“To success!” Silas announced, tilting his own bottle back and draining half of it in one long pull. “Your turn, Saintess. Don’t be shy.”

Quinn raised the bottle to her lips, took a small sip-

“All of it!” Silas barked. “You think I’m gonna toast with someone who only pretends to drink? That’s disrespectful! My boys here don’t like disrespect. Do you, boys?”

1/4

+25 Bonus

The thugs grinned, cracking their knuckles meaningfully.

“If she don’t drink,” one of them added loudly, “maybe we break some legs. Make sure the message about respect gets through.”

“How can he treat a Saintess like this?” someone whispered from a nearby table.

“Someone should call security…”

“Are you crazy? That’s Silas Cooper! You want to get killed?”

Quinn’s jaw clenched. She raised the bottle again and drank, forcing down the cheap beer while Silas and his men laughed and cheered.

“Another!” Silas thrust a second bottle at her. “Come on, Saintess! Show us that divine tolerance!”

Marcus stood up.

The movement was unhurried, but every eye in the room immediately shifted to him. Silas turned, his grin widening when he saw who’d interrupted.

“Well, well, well,” Silas drawled. “If it isn’t the man of the hour. Marcus Steel. The kept man. The worthless nobody who somehow convinced a Saintess to marry him.” He looked Marcus up and down with theatrical disgust. “Tell me something-how does it feel to live off your wife’s success? To be the joke everyone laughs about behind your back?”

“Silas,” Marcus said calmly, “you should leave. Now.”

Silas laughed a sound like a bear with bronchitis. “Should I? Should I really? Because from where I’m standing, you’re just common trash who married above his station. A Saintess deserves a real man, not garbage like you.”

His thugs snickered, emboldened by their boss’s confidence.

“In fact,” Silas continued, grabbing a case of beer from one of his men and slamming it on Quinn’s table,” here’s what’s gonna happen. You and your pretty wife are gonna sit here and drink this entire case with me. All of it. Consider it a toast to knowing your place.”

The threat was clear. Refuse, and violence would follow. The employees watched in horrified fascination, phones recording everything, none of them brave enough to intervene.

Quinn’s Saintess aura flared brighter, defensive energy crackling around her. “Marcus, don’t-”

Marcus gently pressed her back into her seat. His touch was surprisingly tender, protective in a way that made Quinn’s breath catch.

“It’s fine,” he said quietly. Then he reached for a beer bottle.

Silas grinned triumphantly. “That’s right! Know your place! Drink up, kept man! Show everyone what a good little husband you-”

2/4

+25 Bonus

Marcus smashed the beer bottle directly into Silas Cooper’s face.

The explosion of glass and blood was spectacular. The bottle shattered against Silas’s nose and cheekbone, sending razor-sharp fragments and cheap beer spraying across his face. Blood erupted from multiple cuts instantly, turning Silas’s features into a crimson mask.

Silas staggered backward, hands flying to his destroyed face, a sound of shocked agony tearing from his

throat.

The Imperial Hall erupted in chaos.

“Oh my God!”

“He hit Silas Cooper!”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify