The icy night air bit into Lucia's skin as Malcolm forcefully pulled her out of Celine's apartment.
"Let me go, Malcolm Sterling!" she yelled, struggling in vain against his iron grip.
Her resistance only made him tighten his hold, his jaw clenched with steely determination.
"Malcolm, you're insane!" she screamed, thrashing like a wildcat.
"You haven't seen half of it," he replied dryly, his voice devoid of any warmth. Without so much as flinching at her struggles, he stuffed her into the car seat, slamming the door shut before she could make another move.
Celine, who had been watching the scene unfold, was dumbfounded. This wasn't the Malcolm Lucia had vaguely described before—aloof and dismissive. This Malcolm was something else entirely: domineering, terrifying, and madly determined. She could only stand frozen in her doorway as Malcolm signaled his men to bundle her into another car.
"Oh, God," Celine muttered under her breath, realizing the full extent of her predicament. "Lucia didn't give an accurate description of this man. She is doomed… and so am I."
As the car carrying her started moving, the silence inside was suffocating. Celine sat stiffly, avoiding eye contact with the burly man seated beside her. Her mind raced, and dread coursed through her veins.
Finally, she broke the silence, her voice trembling with mock bravado. "Tell my granny I love her so much," she said, her words shaky, "and tell her I'm sorry for not growing up the way she wanted, for always getting into trouble."
She choked back a sob, tears streaming down her face in endless rivers. "Mattias, I'm sorry!" she screamed in her head, bracing for what lay ahead.
---
Meanwhile, in Malcolm and Lucia's car, the atmosphere was explosive. The argument between the couple reached a boiling point.
"Why do you even care what I do with my life?" Lucia shot at him, her voice laced with fury. "I mean, I don't give a damn what you ate for lunch! Why won't you just mind your own goddamned business?"
Malcolm's jaw tightened as irritation flared in his eyes. She didn't get it. She didn't understand how much damage control he had done to ensure that club video didn't reach the public—or how stressful it had been to shield his family name from becoming a joke.
Lucia, frustrated by his silence, turned her attention to Morgan, who was driving. "Stop the fucking car!" she demanded, her voice rising with anger.
Morgan kept his gaze firmly on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He knew better than to intervene. Between Mrs. Sterling's fiery temper and Mr. Sterling's chilling fury, he would rather not risk his life.
"Did you hear me? I said stop the car, right now!" Lucia yelled again.
"Shut up, Lucia," Malcolm barked, his deep voice slicing through the tension like a blade.
"Don't you dare tell me to shut up!" Lucia snapped back, her fiery gaze locking with his. "I'm not Stephanie, all right? I'm Lucia. Lucia Scott!"
"No," Malcolm replied with an eerie calmness that sent shivers down her spine. "You're Lucia Sterling, for the next six months." His tone was dangerously low, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface.
Lucia opened her mouth to argue, but his next words cut through her like a whip.
"For six fucking months, you're my wife. And you have the audacity to go out to a club, grinding on some stranger, looking like some sex-starved—" He stopped himself, unable to say the rest, his chest heaving with fury.
Lucia was stunned silent for a moment, but her shock quickly turned into blazing rage.
"You're a bastard, Malcolm!" she spat, her voice shaking with emotion. "You're a whore. You're every disgusting name in the book! I hate you. I hate you so much. If not for my parents, I would never have settled for a beast like you!"
Malcolm's calm, terrifying voice filled the car. "Then prepare yourself, Lucia, because I'm about to show you just how much of a beast I can be."
Morgan, caught in the middle of this verbal war, felt like he was suffocating under the tension. He didn't dare intervene.
"Get me to Chelsea in ten minutes," Malcolm ordered, his voice a low growl.
"Yes, Mr. Sterling," Morgan replied, pressing his foot harder on the accelerator.
---
Back in Celine's car, the tension was equally thick, though of a different flavor. She sat nervously, replaying the events of the night in her head. Why hadn't she listened to Mattias earlier? Her stubbornness might have just landed her in a mess she couldn't escape from.
As the cars sped through the city streets, the night seemed darker, the silence more oppressive. All Celine could do now was wait and pray that she and Lucia wouldn't bear the full brunt of Malcolm's wrath.
Lucia, however, wasn't in a praying mood. Her fury matched Malcolm's as she stewed in the backseat of their car. This wasn't just about the club incident anymore; it was about the suffocating control he was trying to exert over her life.
By the time they arrived at the Chelsea mansion, the storm brewing between them was ready to explode. Malcolm stepped out of the car first, opening the door on her side with a deliberate slowness that only fueled her anger further.
"I can walk on my own, thank you very much," she snapped, pushing past him as she stormed toward the front door.
"Good," he replied coolly. "You'll need that energy."
Lucia shot him a glare over her shoulder but didn't respond. Her heart was pounding in her chest, a mix of anger, fear, and something she couldn't quite place.
As the heavy doors of the mansion closed behind them, the tension crackled like electricity. The battle between them was far from over.