Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 99

CHAPTER 99 PART 1

Marcus and Quinn’s Mansion – Grayson Heights District – 9:47 PM

The mansion Marcus had purchased three months ago-a sprawling estate in Grayson City’s most exclusive neighborhood-sat quiet under the moonlight, its modern architecture gleaming with understated wealth. Quinn had fallen in love with it immediately: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a master suite larger than most apartments, security systems that would make a bank jealous.

It was their sanctuary. Their private space away from family drama and corporate warfare.

Until Karen Ridge and Brandon Hartford invaded it.

Marcus stood in the grand foyer, his jaw clenched with barely restrained irritation, watching Quinn’s parents examine their home with the critical eyes of people evaluating property they believed should rightfully be theirs.

Karen Ridge-Quinn’s mother-walked through the living room like a conquering general, her sharp eyes cataloging every expensive piece of furniture, every original artwork on the walls, every sign of wealth that her ” worthless” son-in-law somehow possessed. She wore a designer pantsuit that had cost more than most people’s monthly rent, her hair styled in a severe bob that matched her perpetually disapproving expression.

“Well,” Karen said, her voice dripping with false surprise, “I see you’ve managed to land on your feet, Marcus. How convenient that my daughter’s Sacred Saintess status opened doors for a nobody like you.”

Brandon Hartford-Quinn’s father and Karen’s perpetually henpecked husband-trailed behind his wife like a shadow, saying nothing, his presence barely registering in the house.

Quinn stood beside Marcus, her cold indifference firmly in place, though her Saintess aura flickered with suppressed frustration. “Mother, you said this was a brief visit to check on our safety. That was four hours ago.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady,” Karen snapped. “After everything you’ve put this family through- marrying beneath yourself, causing scandals, getting involved with criminal organizations-the least you can do is show some gratitude that we still acknowledge you.”

She walked toward the kitchen, opening cabinets and examining their contents with casual entitlement. “This house has what, six bedrooms? Perfect. Your father and I will take the master suite-you two can use one of the guest rooms. And we’ll need the other rooms prepared for Wesley and Tessa when they arrive tomorrow.”

Marcus’s dragon aura, carefully suppressed all evening, pulsed with dangerous energy. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Karen said without turning around. “This house is far too large for just two people. Family should live together, especially during dangerous times. We’re moving in.”

“No,” Marcus said flatly. “You’re not.”

Karen finally turned to face him, her expression radiating the same contempt she’d shown Marcus for three years. “I wasn’t asking permission. This is my daughter’s house-”

“This is MY house,” Marcus interrupted, his voice dropping to a tone that made the temperature feel like it had dropped ten degrees. “Purchased with my money. Registered in my name. You’re guests here, Karen. And guests don’t make demands.”

“Your money?” Karen’s laugh was harsh and mocking. “Please. Everyone knows you were a worthless live-in son- in-law for three years. Whatever money you suddenly have came from my daughter’s connections, from her Saintess status opening doors you could never open yourself.”

She walked closer, her eyes hard and calculating. “So here’s how this works, Marcus. You’ll sleep on the sofa

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tonight-the master bedroom is too good for someone of your background. You’ll have dinner ready by seven every evening. And you’ll remember that the only reason you’re living in luxury instead of poverty is because my daughter took pity on you.”

Quinn’s Saintess aura exploded with golden light, her cold indifference cracking completely. “Mother! How DARE you-”

“How dare I?” Karen whirled on her daughter. “How dare YOU, Quinn! You’re a Sacred Saintess! Divine bloodline! And you threw it all away for this-this NOTHING! Do you know what the family says about you? What the whole city whispers? That you’ve disgraced yourself! That you’ve wasted your sacred purity on a man who contributes nothing!”

Marcus felt Quinn’s hand trembling in his, felt her Saintess energy flickering between hurt and rage. Before he could respond, Karen continued her verbal assault.

“Three years married and you still haven’t given us grandchildren,” Karen sneered. “I suppose even that is beyond Marcus’s capabilities. A Sacred Saintess wasted on a man who can’t even-”

“Enough.” Marcus’s voice carried that inhuman resonance that made even Aaron Jackson pause. “You will not speak to Quinn that way. Not in this house. Not anywhere.”

“Or what?” Karen’s smile was vicious. “You’ll throw us out? Abandon family? That would just prove what everyone already knows-you’re selfish, ungrateful trash who’s been using my daughter from the beginning.”

She turned back to Quinn, her expression transforming to false concern. “Sweetheart, it’s not too late. You can still fix this mistake. Divorce him. Come home. We’ll arrange a proper marriage-someone worthy of a Sacred Saintess. Someone with real power and connections instead of this lucky nobody who-”

Karen’s hand shot out to grab Quinn’s arm, her fingers digging in with painful pressure meant to emphasize her point.

Marcus moved.

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CHAPTER 99 PART 2

His hand intercepted Karen’s wrist with dragon-enhanced speed, stopping her grip before it could fully close on Quinn’s arm. The pressure he applied-carefully controlled despite his fury-made Karen gasp in genuine pain.

“You don’t,” Marcus said quietly, his dragon eyes beginning to glow with golden-red fire, “touch my wife. Ever.”

“How dare you put your hands on me!” Karen tried to jerk free, but Marcus’s grip was immovable. “Brandon! Do something! This animal is-”

Brandon Hartford, who’d been silent throughout the entire confrontation, finally spoke. “Marcus, please. Just let her go. You’re making this worse.”

“I’m making this worse?” Marcus’s laugh held no humor. “Your wife barges into my home uninvited, insults Quinn repeatedly, makes demands like she owns the place, tries to physically grab my wife-and I’M making this worse?”

He released Karen’s wrist, and she stumbled backward, clutching the reddened skin.

“You’ll regret this,” Karen hissed. “We’ll tell everyone what you really are-a violent thug who attacks elderly family members! We’ll make sure the whole city knows!”

“Do it,” Marcus said coldly. “Tell everyone. See if anyone cares about the opinion of a woman who treats her own daughter like property.”

Karen’s face flushed purple with rage. Before anyone could stop her, she drew her hand back and swung at Quinn’s face-a vicious slap meant to “put her daughter in her place” the way she’d done throughout Quinn’s

childhood.

The blow never landed.

Two figures materialized from the shadows near the foyer-Willson Pavilion bodyguards who’d been stationed outside but entered when they sensed hostile intent toward the Sacred Saintess. The female operative, a woman in her thirties named Sophia Chen, caught Karen’s wrist mid-swing with iron grip.

“You,” Sophia said quietly, her voice carrying lethal professionalism, “do not strike a Sacred Saintess.”

Then she slapped Karen Ridge across the face with enough force to spin the older woman completely around.

The sound echoed through the mansion like a gunshot. Karen stumbled, her hand flying to her reddening cheek, shock and pain warring in her expression.

“What-how DARE you-” Karen sputtered.

“How dare YOU,” Sophia interrupted, her tone ice-cold. “Quinn Hartford is under Willson Pavilion protection. Any attempt to harm her-verbal or physical-will be met with immediate response. That includes family members who think their blood relation grants them immunity.”

Brandon Hartford finally showed some spine, stepping forward with raised hands. “Now listen here–you can’t just assault people in their own home-”

The male Pavilion operative-a muscular man named David Park-moved with casual efficiency. His palm strike caught Brandon in the solar plexus, driving all air from the older man’s lungs and dropping him to his knees gasping.

“Actually,” David said conversationally, “we can. We’re authorized to use any force necessary to protect the Sacred Saintess. That includes defending her from hostile family members who’ve clearly forgotten that divine

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bloodline deserves respect.”

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