Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 249

CHAPTER 175 PART 1

The beating continued with savage enthusiasm. Miguel Abbott’s staff, emboldened by Marcus Steel’s permission and their own accumulated rage, showed Young Master Springs exactly what happened when arrogance met consequence. Blood splattered across the expensive dining hall floor. Springs’s screams had devolved into pathetic whimpering.

“Stop!”

The voice cut through the chaos-female, authoritative, carrying the kind of cultivated superiority that came from a lifetime of never being refused.

A woman stepped forward from the remaining group of foreigners. Mid-twenties, immaculately dressed in designer clothing that probably cost more than most people earned in a year. Her posture was perfect, her expression controlled fury mixed with absolute certainty that her status would resolve this situation.

She looked at Marcus with the kind of disdain usually reserved for insects. “I said stop. Immediately.”

Marcus raised his hand. The beating ceased instantly, though the staff members looked disappointed at being interrupted.

The woman walked forward with measured steps, her heels clicking against the floor with rhythmic precision. She stopped a few feet from Marcus, close enough to assert dominance without entering what she considered the danger zone.

“I am Celeste Harrington,” she announced, as if the name itself should inspire immediate capitulation.” Executive director of international relations for our organization. What you’ve done here tonight is unacceptable. Barbaric. Completely beneath the standards of civilized society.”

Marcus simply looked at her, his dragon eyes revealing nothing.

“You will apologize,” Celeste continued, her tone suggesting this was non-negotiable. “To Springs. To Tyson. To Miss Monroe. To everyone you’ve assaulted. Then you will compensate them appropriately-I’m thinking fifty million US dollars should begin to address the damages. And finally-” she paused for emphasis, “-you and your staff will kneel and beg forgiveness. Do this, and we might consider not destroying everything you’ve built in this pathetic province.”

The silence that followed her demands was profound.

Springs, still lying bloodied on the floor, seemed to regain some courage hearing Celeste speak. His swollen eyes focused on Marcus with renewed hatred.

“Yeah,” Springs managed through broken teeth. “That’s right. You heard her. Kneel. All of you. Get on your knees right now and maybe-maybe-I won’t have you all killed.”

His voice grew stronger with each word, arrogance returning like water filling a damaged vessel. “Actually, you know what? I dare you. I dare you to keep going. See what happens. See if you actually have the balls to kill me. Because if you do if you even think about it-my father will, exterminate everyone in this building. Everyone in this city. He’ll burn Five-River Province to the ground!”

Marcus listened to this tirade with the patient attention of someone waiting for a child to finish their tantrum. When Springs finally fell silent, Marcus turned to Miguel Abbott and his staff.

“Do as you’re told,” Marcus said calmly.

Relief washed over Celeste’s face. Victory. Submission. Exactly what she’d expected. These provincial nobodies

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understood their place after all.

But Marcus wasn’t finished.

“Springs just told you what to do,” Marcus continued, his dragon eyes gleaming with cold amusement. “He said ‘ see if you have the balls.’ He dared you to keep going. So do it. Show him exactly how much courage you have.”

The staff members’ expressions shifted from disappointment to vicious satisfaction. They understood immediately-Marcus had just twisted Springs’s own arrogant challenge into permission to continue the beating.

“Wait-” Springs started, panic replacing bravado.

The fists and feet resumed. Harder this time. More focused. Springs’s fresh screams filled the dining hall.

“STOP!” Celeste shrieked, her composure shattering. “I gave you an order! I told you to-”

“You’re not in charge here,” Marcus interrupted quietly. “I am. This is my territory. My hotel. My province. And your ‘orders’ mean exactly nothing.”

Celeste’s face went from controlled fury to genuine fear. This wasn’t following the script. Provincial nobodies were supposed to cower before international authority. They were supposed to recognize superior status and

submit.

“Do you have any idea who we represent?” Celeste’s voice rose desperately. “Do you understand the consequences of defying us?”

“I understand perfectly,” Marcus replied. “You represent people who think their organization’s name gives them immunity. You’re about to learn otherwise.”

“We’re from Willson Pavilion!” Celeste finally shouted, playing what she clearly believed was her trump card. ” Willson Pavilion! The name that makes kings kneel and emperors beg! You attack us, you attack an organization that spans continents! That controls governments! That has destroyed entire countries for lesser insults!”

She spoke the name like it was a death sentence. Like the mere invocation would cause Marcus to fall to his knees in terror and beg forgiveness.

Marcus’s expression didn’t change. “Willson Pavilion. Interesting.”

“Interesting?” Celeste repeated, disbelief in her voice. “That’s all you have to say? You should be-”

“I want to speak with your master,” Marcus interrupted. “Video call. Right now.”

Celeste blinked. “What?”

“The head of Willson Pavilion’s Far East division,” Marcus clarified. “I assume that’s Springs’s father, given the family resemblance and the arrogance. Call him. Let’s have a conversation.”

“You can’t just demand-”

“I can, and I am,” Marcus said flatly. “Call him now, or I’ll have your precious Young Master Springs beaten until there’s nothing left but pulp and regret.”

Celeste looked at Springs, then at Marcus, then at the bodyguards still enthusiastically administering punishment. Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone and dialed.

The call connected after three rings. The screen showed an older man-perhaps sixty, white hair immaculately styled, wearing traditional formal attire that suggested old wealth and older power. His face carried the same entitled arrogance as Springs, but tempered by decades of authority.

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