The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 994

Ethan stopped dead in his tracks. His shoulders went rigid.

The alcohol had stripped away his usual restraint, and those two words—"my house"—felt like a jagged knife twisting into an old, infected wound. It brought back the agonizing reality of his mother's early death, his father's swift remarriage, and the slow, parasitic takeover of everything that was supposed to be his.

He slowly turned around. The hazy, drunken fog in his eyes vanished, replaced by a razor-sharp, freezing glare that cut straight through Romina.

The sheer intensity of his stare made her heart skip a beat. But, banking on her status as the lady of the house and assuming Ethan was currently out of favor, she pushed forward. "What are you looking at?"

"Did I say something wrong? Go look in a mirror. You look exactly like the junkies you arrest!"

A dark, raspy chuckle rumbled in Ethan's chest.

It was a laugh dripping with self-deprecation and utter contempt for the woman in front of him.

He knew he looked like garbage. He had failed the one person he wanted to protect.

But that didn't give this gold-digger the right to trample on his pride, let alone lay claim to his mother's legacy.

"Your house?"

He repeated, his voice low but carrying the weight of a sledgehammer. He closed the distance between them, his tall frame entirely shadowing her on the couch. "Romina, you've lived here so long you've actually started believing your own lies. Did you forget whose name is on the deed?"

Intimidated by his sheer physical presence, Romina shrank back but tried to keep her volume up. "W-what are you doing? Back off!"

Ethan didn't stop until he was towering right over her.

"I think you've gotten entirely too comfortable. You've forgotten your place."

His voice was a lethal whisper. "My father bought this estate. My father built the company. My last name is Jenkins. I am the bloodline."

It was a brutal reminder that her luxurious lifestyle was bankrolled entirely by his family, and that she and her son were nothing but freeloading guests.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto hers. He enunciated every single word. "Listen to me very carefully. If I ever decide I want the throne back... your pathetic excuse for a son wouldn't even qualify to sit in the lobby, let alone compete against me."

"Try me."

Romina physically trembled. It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

She knew he wasn't bluffing. Ethan usually couldn't be bothered with their petty games, but if he actually unleashed his full capability, she and Asher wouldn't stand a chance.

Ethan slowly straightened up, looking down his nose at her. "So, do yourself a favor and stay out of my way."

"Keep your head down, play house, and you can keep enjoying your luxury cars and designer bags. But if you ever cross the line, or try to pull rank on me again..."

"I promise you, you won't survive the fallout."

He meant every word. Dustin might butt heads with Ethan and shower Asher with praise, but there was one unavoidable reality Romina could never escape.