Chapter 88
The moment John spoke, a dark memory seemed to flicker in his mind, and he snapped his fingers. “Oh, I nearly forgot! Ashton should be in Rebecca’s ward right now, caring for his beloved woman instead. I doubt he has time to worry about you.”
His words hung in the air as he leaned closer, the scent of tobacco on his breath making me even more disgusted. Without thinking, I shot back, “Hey, John. If I die, will I finally be liberated?”
His face darkened, and he coldly replied, “You can try.”
I couldn’t bring myself to act on such a thought, not yet. But if the time ever came, I couldn’t deny the bitter satisfaction that might come from dragging someone like him with me.
Just as the thought crossed my mind, the headlights of another car illuminated the yard. Turning my head, I saw Ashton’s jeep approaching. I glanced at my watch—midnight. I was slightly surprised that he had actually come back.
John noticed the jeep too, and his expression shifted. He didn’t get out right away. Instead, he lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke while watching us with a deathly glare.
John, always seizing an opportunity, leaned closer to me and whispered mockingly, “I wonder what Ashton’s reaction would be if he saw me kissing you.”
“You sick b**tard!” I screamed, trying to move away from him, but the confined space of the car made it impossible.
Before I could react further, he lunged forward, pressing his lips against mine in a disgusting, taunting kiss. Pulling back with a satisfied grin, he stared at Ashton with an expression of pure malice.
“John, are you crazy?” I spat, horrified.
“Yes, I am!” John replied, his voice filled with madness, just as Ashton stepped out of his jeep.
I glared at John and demanded, “Open the door now!”
But he ignored me, his eyes still tracking Ashton’s every move. Ashton, with his usual composed manner, walked directly toward the villa, but John laughed coldly. “Letty, he doesn’t love you at all. He doesn’t even care if others touch you.”
His words stung, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the truth in them. But I retorted, trying to hold onto my dignity, “So what? It has nothing to do with you. Just let me go…”
Before I could say anything more, a loud smash! rang out, followed by the crack of glass. I looked up, startled, only to find Ashton standing beside John’s car, his eyes filled with fury.
John didn’t flinch. He merely watched as Ashton reached into the car and pulled open the door. The violent clash of their personalities was palpable as Ashton’s dark presence overpowered John’s defiance.
I silently stepped out of the car, my gaze flickering between the two men, who were now locked in an intense stare-down. It was clear that they both exuded an unspoken threat, each determined to dominate the other.
John, ever the provocateur, broke the stare first. His arrogance was unshaken as he leaned back in his seat, his voice dripping with disdain. “How about a showdown?”
Men, I thought, always resorting to violence to settle their differences. It was almost as if it were in their nature to express dominance this way.
Ashton’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous smirk forming on his lips. “Sure,” he said, his voice low and menacing.
The commotion was enough to wake Mrs. Eriksen, who rushed to the yard, flipping on the lights in alarm. Her gaze darted from me to Ashton and then to the stranger in the yard. After a pause, she nervously asked, “Mr. Ashton, should I call the police?”
Ashton, unbothered by the disruption, slowly began to remove his tailored black suit. “No need,” he said, his voice commanding, “Go inside and bring my wife a chair. Let her watch.”
“What…?” I asked, taken aback.
Mrs. Eriksen didn’t hesitate. She quickly nodded and rushed into the house.
I shook my head in exasperation, my brows furrowing. “I’m not staying to watch anything. It’s not good for our child. Just be careful, and try not to hurt yourself. I’ll wait for you inside.”
Ashton’s cold expression seemed to lighten for a moment, and he gave me a smirk. “Got it, go back and wait for me.”
John’s rage, however, seemed to escalate further. “F**k!” he shouted, his fists swinging violently toward Ashton.
Without warning, the two men collided in a brutal fight, the sound of their punches echoing through the yard. I didn’t look back, choosing to walk away from the scene, blocking out the sounds of their fists connecting.
Inside the living room, Mrs. Eriksen, clearly still worried, asked with concern, “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing. No big deal,” I said, forcing a smile. I hadn’t eaten much at the party, and now I was feeling the effects of hunger. I glanced at Mrs. Eriksen and changed the subject. “Is there still food?”
“Of course,” she replied, hurrying to the kitchen to bring out a plate of scrambled eggs and a pot of chicken stew.
As she placed the food in front of me, I couldn’t help but express my surprise. “Mrs. Eriksen, it’s midnight… How did you manage to make all of this?”
The dishes were still steaming hot, and I was impressed by the care she had put into preparing them.
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Mr. Ashton called earlier and said you didn’t eat much at the party. He thought you’d be hungry when you got home.”
I was taken aback. I hadn’t expected Ashton to care about such a small detail, but the gesture touched me in a way I couldn’t quite explain.
But was he concerned about me, or was it for the baby?
As I mulled over this, the sounds of the fight outside grew louder. Mrs. Eriksen, still worried, asked again, “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
I shook my head, taking another bite of the food. “There’s no need. They’re both evenly matched. I’m sure neither of them will die.”
And deep down, I knew it was true. Neither Ashton nor John would back down easily. But for now, I would focus on the food and try to block out the chaos outside.