The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 904

Many of those women had husbands who had checked out of their marriages years ago, offering them unlimited wealth but zero affection. The isolation left a lot of them twisted and deeply sadistic.

Compared to them, Felicia was practically a romantic. She had genuinely wanted a relationship, and her demands had always remained within the bounds of a normal dynamic.

But the other women were a completely different story. There were plenty of young escorts who had been pushed past their breaking points, their bodies and minds completely destroyed for the entertainment of their wealthy clients.

Such tragedies were practically an open secret in their world. Money buried the evidence, and young lives were snuffed out without a single consequence or a chance for justice. Dorian refused to let that be his fate.

"So, what's it going to be? Think about it. Either you crawl back to Felicia—whether she dumped you or not, you make her want you again—or I handle it."

"Otherwise, I'll lease you out to whoever pays the highest. Once you've paid off your three million, you can go wherever the hell you want. I won't care."

Sully's tone was deadly serious. He wasn't bluffing.

Dorian's mind went completely blank, absolute panic paralyzing him. Just then, one of Sully's men rushed into the room and whispered frantically into his ear. Sully's face contorted with rage, and he violently smashed a glass against the wall.

"So, you think you're untouchable now, Dorian? You actually got Hawthorne to threaten me? Fine. I'll give Hawthorne his respect and let you walk today. But remember, this is a one-time pass. Throw him out."

Even after Sully's furious outburst, Dorian remained stunned, unable to comprehend what was happening. But the moment he heard the name 'Hawthorne', he instantly knew Leonie was behind this.

Dorian staggered to his feet, swaying dangerously as he moved toward the door. Without warning, Sully hurled an ashtray straight at his head. It connected with a sickening crack, and Dorian collapsed instantly, blood pouring from a gash on his forehead.

The thugs jumped back in shock, but Sully merely glared at Dorian's motionless body with cold indifference.

"What the hell are you staring at? Throw him out on the street. Whether he lives or dies is his problem. But let this be a lesson to all of you: anyone who crosses me or ruins my business will end up exactly like him. No exceptions."

True to his word, Sully's men dragged Dorian outside and dumped him on the pavement. Cars drove past, their headlights sweeping over his battered body, but not a single one stopped.

Hawthorne had notified Leonie to pick Dorian up. By the time she sped up to the club, Dorian was lying unconscious on the curb.

Desperate, Leonie had no choice but to call some of Layne's friends to help her lift Dorian's dead weight into the back of her car.

Watching from a short distance away, Connor sat in his car, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel so hard it threatened to snap. He was forced to watch in seething silence as Leonie drove off with Dorian.

The guys in Connor's car exchanged uneasy glances before one finally spoke up. "Connor, following her around like a lost puppy isn't a good look. When she was obsessed with you, you brushed her off. Now that she's moved on, you're stalking her. What exactly is your endgame here?"

Connor's mind was an absolute enigma to them, and he couldn't be bothered to explain himself. He simply slammed his foot on the gas and trailed Leonie, determined to see exactly where she was taking the guy.

Leonie rushed Dorian to the hospital. Connor parked a safe distance away, scoffing bitterly. "Going through all this trouble for a damn escort. Unbelievable."

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