The Ex-Con Who Conquered the World novel Chapter 72

And that terrified Eliza. If Stefan got arrested because of her—if he ended up back in prison because of tonight—she'd never forgive herself.

"Easy." Britton's smirk widened. He glanced at Stefan like he was already beneath him. "First, this ex-con scum gets on his knees and apologizes properly. Second—" His eyes crawled over Eliza again. "You become mine. My woman. Do that, and we forget any of this happened."

Eliza's face went pale.

Christy's eyes flickered—jealousy, sharp and ugly—but she buried it fast. She knew her place. She was only store manager because Britton had put her there. And she knew about the others. She was just one of many.

"Eliza." Christy's voice dripped with false warmth. "Britton's offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You should be grateful. You treat him right, and you'll want for nothing."

Eliza's whole body trembled. Not with fear anymore—with rage. And shame. A deep, burning shame at being talked about like she was merchandise. Something to be bought and sold.

Stefan's hand found her shoulder. Squeezed gently. "Eliza." His voice was calm. Easy. "Don't waste your energy on these two. They're both brain-dead idiots. Arguing with them will only lower your IQ."

Britton's face went purple. "What did you just say to me?!"

He stepped forward, chest out. "I was going to be generous—for the Stewarts' sake. But clearly you don't know when to shut up and accept a gift."

"Your generosity means less than nothing to me." He stepped closer, tilting his head. "Let me ask you something. How's your math?"

Britton blinked. "What?"

Britton blinked, his expression shifting to something between confusion and amusement. Was this guy serious? Had the fear actually broken his brain? "You—" Britton started, but Stefan cut him off with that easy smile. "Let me walk you through it." Stefan's voice was calm, almost friendly. "You said one slap equals a few years in prison, right? So—" He took a step closer. "If I slap you too... how many years does that add up to?"

Britton's eyes went wide. "You wouldn't dare—"

SMACK.

The sound cracked through the store like a whip.

Britton's body lifted off the ground—spun once, twice—and crashed down hard. His cheek was already swelling, already bleeding.

Everyone froze.

Stefan didn't react. He just reached into his pocket and pulled out a card.

"You said I couldn't afford anything here." His voice was calm. Almost bored. "Take a look. Tell me if this card works in your store."

Britton's eyes flicked to it. Dismissive at first.

His face froze first, then his eyes snapped wide open, nearly bulging out of his head as he stared fixedly at the card.

Gold. A purple dragon curling across the front—claws extended, fierce, regal.

"Amethyst Card?" The words came out as a whisper. Then a strangled gasp. "That's—that's—"

His face went pale.

He knew that card. Every manager in every Chamber-affiliated business knew that card. It was the highest-tier membership card issued by the Marevia Consortium.