Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 86

CHAPTER 86 PART 1

Hartford Group Headquarters – 3:47 PM

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Marcus Steel’s BMW pulled into the Hartford Group parking garage, the engine’s purr echoing off concrete walls. He’d just left Titan Group after declaring war on Golden Eagle Group, and now he was returning to face the vipers’ nest that was Quinn’s own family.

As he walked toward the main entrance, two familiar figures blocked his path.

Zachary Hartford stood there in an expensive three-piece suit, his aged face twisted into a satisfied smirk. Beside him sat Oliver Hartford in a wheelchair, his face still bruised and swollen from Marcus’s beating days earlier, both legs in casts, but his eyes burning with vindictive glee.

“Well, well, well,” Oliver sneered, his voice dripping with malicious satisfaction. “If it isn’t the great Marcus Steel. The nobody who married a Sacred Saintess and thought he could play with the big boys.”

Marcus stopped, regarding them with the same calm indifference he’d give to insects crawling on the sidewalk.” Oliver. Zachary. I see you’re both still breathing. How unfortunate.”

“Still got that smart mouth?” Oliver laughed, though it turned into a wince of pain. “Not for long. In about two hours, you and your precious wife will be out on the street where you belong.”

Zachary stepped forward, his expression radiating smug triumph. “We drained every liquid asset Hartford Group had, boy. Three hundred million in cash, securities, and transferable bonds+all safely tucked away in accounts Quinn will never access. The company is bleeding, contracts are failing, and the Potter Family is circling like sharks.”

“And the best part?” Oliver interjected, his voice rising with petty cruelty. “Grandfather made a deal with Chairman Potter himself. As long as you and Quinn leave the company quietly, the Potter Family will spare the Hartford bloodline from complete destruction.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “How magnanimous of you. Selling out your own granddaughter to save your worthless skins.”

“She’s not my granddaughter anymore,” Zachary said coldly. “The moment she chose you over family, she ceased to be a Hartford. And a Sacred Saintess who married so far beneath her station?” He laughed harshly. “She’s a disgrace to her bloodline. The entire city whispers about the fallen Saintess who shackled herself to a worthless nobody.”

Oliver wheeled himself closer, his face twisted with hatred. “You humiliated me, Steel. Broke my ribs, shattered my nose, made me bark like a dog in front of the entire board. But who’s laughing now? In two hours, you’ll be jobless. Quinn will lose everything. And I-“he patted the wheelchair’s armrest, “-despite these broken legs, I’ll be chairman. The position I always deserved.”

“Grandfather and I will rebuild Hartford Group with the three hundred million we salvaged,” Zachary added smugly. “Once the Potter Family is satisfied with your removal, they’ll back off. Business will resume. And the Hartford name will continue-without the stain of your marriage polluting it.”

Marcus’s expression didn’t change. His dragon aura, carefully suppressed, remained utterly calm. “Are you finished?”

“Finished?” Oliver’s laugh was unhinged. “We’re just getting started! Wait until you see what’s waiting in that boardroom. Every shareholder, every board member, every family member-they’re all there, ready to vote Quinn out and throw you both into the gutter!”

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As if summoned by Oliver’s words, three expensive cars pulled into the parking garage. Out stepped Wesley Hartford, Zachary’s younger brother, along with his wife Tessa Hartford and a parade of other Hartford family members-cousins, nephews, nieces, all dressed in their finest business attire and wearing expressions of predatory anticipation.

“Zachary!” Wesley called out, his jovial voice echoing through the garage. “Is it true? Quinn’s finally getting what she deserves?”

“It’s true,” Zachary confirmed. “Emergency shareholder meeting in thirty minutes. By four-thirty, Quinn Hartford will be unemployed, and this worthless son-in-law will be history.”

Tessa Hartford, a sharp-featured woman in her fifties who’d always resented Quinn’s beauty and status, sneered at Marcus. “I heard the fallen Saintess actually loves this nobody. How pathetic. Divine bloodline wasted on someone with delusions of adequacy.”

“At least she’ll learn a valuable lesson about marrying for love instead of power,” another family member chimed in. “Maybe after bankruptcy, she’ll finally understand how the real world works.”

The Hartford clan gathered around Marcus like a pack of hyenas circling wounded prey, their laughter and mocking comments blending into a cacophony of malicious joy.

Marcus stood still, his expression utterly serene, his dragon-enhanced senses detecting every heartbeat, every nervous tic, every tell that revealed these vultures’ desperation beneath their bravado. They were terrified-of the Potter Family, of potential retaliation, of losing their own wealth and status. This performance was as much about convincing themselves as intimidating him.

“Are you all quite finished?” Marcus asked quietly.

The laughter faltered. Something in his tone-that ancient authority barely contained beneath civilized speech- made several family members instinctively step back.

“You think you’ve won,” Marcus continued calmly. “You think draining liquid assets and making deals with the Potter Family gives you victory. But you’re playing checkers while I’m playing chess on a board you can’t even see.

“Big talk from a dead man walking,” Oliver spat. “In two hours-”

“In two hours,” Marcus interrupted, “you’re all going to learn a very expensive lesson about underestimating the man who married a Sacred Saintess.”

He walked past them without another word, his dragon aura rippling just enough to make the crowd part instinctively.

Their mocking laughter resumed behind him, but it sounded hollow, forced-the desperate bravado of people who sensed they’d made a terrible miscalculation but couldn’t admit it.

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CHAPTER 86 PART 2

Quinn’s Office – 4:02 PM

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Quinn Hartford stood by her office window, staring out at Grayson City’s skyline with her characteristic cold indifference. She wore a tailored black business suit that emphasized her natural elegance, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, her posture perfect despite the crushing pressure bearing down on her.

Marcus entered without knocking. The moment the door closed, Quinn’s carefully maintained facade cracked slightly.

“They’re all here,” she said quietly, not turning from the window. “Every shareholder who wants me gone. Every family member who resents my position. The board has already scheduled the vote-they’re not even pretending this is legitimate discussion. It’s an execution.”

“I know,” Marcus said, walking to stand beside her. “I met Zachary and Oliver downstairs. They were quite pleased with themselves.”

Quinn’s jaw tightened. “Three hundred million. They drained three hundred million from our operating accounts. Without that liquidity, we can’t meet payroll next week. We can’t honor contracts. We can’t-”

“Quinn,” Marcus interrupted gently. “Look at me.”

She turned, and for the first time, Marcus saw genuine fear in those cold, indifferent eyes. Not for herself—a Sacred Saintess didn’t fear personal loss-but for him. For what this failure would mean for their future together.

“They’re going to destroy everything,” Quinn whispered. “And I can’t-my Saintess powers can’t fix financial collapse. I can’t heal a dying company with divine energy.”

“You don’t need to,” Marcus said. He took her hand, his dragon aura instinctively wrapping around her fingers like invisible armor. “Check the company accounts. The main operating account.”

Quinn frowned but pulled out her phone, accessing Hartford Group’s financial systems with her CEO credentials. Her eyes widened as she scrolled through the recent transactions.

“This… this can’t be right,” she breathed. “There’s ten billion-ten billion dollars-transferred from Titan Group this afternoon. But that’s impossible. Why would Titan Group inject that kind of capital without–”

She looked up at Marcus, her Sacred Saintess intuition suddenly blazing to life. “You. You did this somehow.”

“I have a relative who works at Titan Group,” Marcus said casually, the lie coming smoothly. “Very senior position. When I mentioned your situation, they decided to invest. Good business opportunity, apparently.”

Quinn’s sacred senses detected something more-layers of truth hidden beneath the surface explanation—but her training had taught her when to push and when to trust.

And her intuition, which had guided her throughout her life, screamed a single message: Trust him. Trust your husband. He is exactly what you need.

“A relative,” Quinn repeated slowly. “Who can authorize ten billion in corporate investment on a whim.”

“It’s a big family,” Marcus replied with a slight smile.

Before Quinn could press further, her office phone rang. Her secretary’s nervous voice came through: “Ms. Hartford, the board is assembled. They’re… they’re requesting your immediate presence.”

Quinn’s hand tightened around Marcus’s. “It’s time.”

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