Chapter 30
The moment Ashton’s face darkened, his eyes turned cold, his displeasure palpable.
“Can I help you, Mr. Fuller?” My tone was indifferent, my expression unreadable. I didn’t feel like his wife—not here, not now. I was nothing more than an outsider.
The realization stung, making my resentment flare. I met his gaze with quiet defiance, unwilling to cower.
“Apologize.” His voice was low, commanding.
My brows furrowed as anger coursed through me. “Have you lost it, Ashton? Why the hell should I apologize?”
“You pushed her.” His reply was firm, final, as if his judgment was absolute.
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You should get your eyes checked, Ashton.”
His expression darkened further. “Scarlett Stovall,” he said, his tone laced with warning. “Apologize. Now.”
I lifted my chin, my glare unwavering. “And if I don’t?”
The air between us grew colder, a silent battle of wills. Then, with a slow, deliberate tilt of his head, he murmured, “Macy’s bar seems to be doing a little too well these days, huh?”
I stiffened. A rush of cold fear washed over me. He was willing to use such underhanded means just to force an apology from me?
Swallowing my pride, I exhaled through gritted teeth. “Fine. I’ll apologize.”
Breaking free from his grasp, I walked up to Rebecca, my fury barely contained. I met her gaze, suppressing every ounce of wrath building inside me.
“I’m sorry.” The words left my lips like shards of glass, cutting through my pride.
Rebecca bit her lip, looking fragile, pitiful—an act so convincing it nearly fooled me. But Joe, always one to escalate, sneered, “So you think you just have to apologize after hitting someone? In that case, I could kill a guy and say sorry, and everything would be fine. Who needs the law, right?”
I clenched my fists. He was insufferable.
“What else do you want from me?” I shot him a frosty glare, my patience wearing thin.
He crossed his arms, smug. “We have a rule—whoever messes up has to apologize sincerely and host a drinking session. When we’re happy, you’ll be forgiven.”
You absolute idiot. What kind of twisted logic was that?
“Knock it off, Joe,” Jared cut in, irritation in his voice.
Joe barely spared him a glance before looking at Ashton. “What do you think, Ashton?”
Ashton’s expression was unreadable as he turned to Rebecca. “What do you propose we do?”
Rebecca lowered her head, voice soft yet audible to all. “Scarlett is your wife. You decide.”
You pretentious little—
I swallowed my thoughts, shifting my gaze to Joe. “Fine. Where shall we drink?”
Jared moved closer, frowning. “Have you got no fear?”
I understood his warning. I had to be cautious—there was another life inside me. But Joe, ever the troublemaker, waved him off. “Stop meddling, Jared! Let’s go, Ms. Stovall.”
They led me to a private room. As if determined to make sure I wouldn’t leave sober, Joe ordered ten bottles of whiskey and two crates of beer.
“Think you can handle this, Ms. Stovall?” he mocked.
I merely smirked, unimpressed.
Filling ten glasses, Joe set them in front of me. “The rule is simple—you can ask anyone here to drink for you. But it’s up to you to convince them. If no one helps, you drink them all yourself.”
I glanced at the glasses, my stomach twisting. Instinctively, my hand moved to my belly. Hang in there, baby.
Lifting the first glass, I took a sip. The bitterness churned in my stomach, nausea hitting instantly.
“Ugh!” I barely managed to set the glass down before bolting toward the bathroom, retching over the toilet.
Jared followed, rubbing my back soothingly. “Show Ashton your vulnerable side. Ask him for help. He’s your husband—he won’t let Joe push you too far.”
I let out a cold chuckle. Unlike Rebecca, I wasn’t the type to manipulate men with tears.
Instead, I asked, “Is there anything that can reduce the side effects on the baby?”
Jared hesitated, then nodded. “There is. But drugs are drugs. They won’t eliminate all the harm.”
“That’s fine. Please get me some later.”
Straightening up, I wiped my mouth and stepped out of the bathroom.
Joe was singing loudly, grinning when he spotted me. “What’s wrong? Can’t even handle one glass?”
Ignoring him, I cast a glance at the untouched drinks. Meanwhile, Ashton sat close to Rebecca, listening as she whispered to him. He responded with a slight nod.
A familiar ache spread through my chest. His gaze flickered toward me for a moment before he looked away.
I turned to Joe, my expression calm despite the storm within. “I hope you won’t go back on your word, Mr. Quinn.”