The Unshackled King (by David Wu) novel Chapter 35

In that instant, Fidel's highly skilled manipulation —the polished, toxic charm he wielded so effortlessly —struck with full force.

The image he projected —wounded yet self-sacrificing, all for Margery's sake —was so convincing Stefan almost wanted to applaud.

"Please, don't say things like that, Fidel," Margery murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

Her gaze shifted to Stefan. "It's just a misunderstanding. If we talk it through, everything will be fine..."

"Margery, seeing you hurt like this tears me apart. I can't bear it, and I won't stand by and let you be wounded again because of me." Fidel drew a deep, dramatic breath, his expression turning deeply earnest.

In a grand gesture of supposed selflessness, he stepped toward Stefan. "Stefan, if you're still angry, then take it out on me. Hit me! Just... please, forgive Margery."

"Sounds good." The reply was immediate.

A sharp crack echoed through the night air as Stefan's palm connected with Fidel's cheek.

The force was solid, unhesitating.

Fidel stumbled back, collapsing to the pavement with a thud. Half his face immediately flared red, a vivid handprint stark against his skin.

"Son of a—" the words burst from him, raw and unfiltered.

His composure was shattered.

This is supposed to be a strategic retreat, an act! Who'd actually go through with it?

Rage burned in his gut. Any normal person would have seen it as empty rhetoric.

But this bastard... he had to be different.

Yet, the role demanded continuation.

Clenching his jaw, Fidel pressed a hand to his stinging face, bowing his head in a feigned display of profound injury.

"Stefan! H-How could you hit him?" Margery gasped, instinctively moving to help Fidel up.

"Does it bother you?" Stefan's voice was a lazy drawl, his eyes glinting with cold amusement.

Margery froze mid-step. Her eyes flickered between the man on the ground and the one standing calmly before her.

Slowly, she withdrew. "That's... that's not what I meant. You shouldn't have resorted to violence."

"He asked for it. Wouldn't want to disrespect his request, would I?" Stefan took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke toward the huddled figure.

But rumors say she was in a serious accident and left comatose... When did she recover?

The questions flitted through Margery's mind, overshadowed by a more pressing shock. "You... you're speaking to Stefan? You know him?"

Nearby, Fidel had shakily regained his feet. His face was a mask of livid fury, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. Inside, a tempest of jealousy raged.

A woman like that... a Ferrari-driving, drop-dead gorgeous, obviously loaded socialite...

How did a nobody like Stefan even get to breathe the same air as her?

The injustice of it scorched him.

"Ms. Easterlin," Sara acknowledged Margery coolly before turning her smile back to Stefan. "Of course, I know him. I came here specifically to find him."

Margery stood utterly still, stunned.

The Stewart heiress... came here for Stefan?

"I see it now!" Fidel's voice cut through the silence, low and venomous. The perfect opportunity had fallen into his lap. "So it's true, Stefan. You wanted to break up with Margery because you already had your eye on someone else. You used this whole situation as an excuse to toss her aside and upgrade."

Though jealousy gnawed at him, a colder, more calculated part of Fidel seized the moment. This was the perfect wedge to drive Margery away from Stefan for good.