Don't Cross the Line of New York's Most Powerful Figure

Gwen's POV

However, contrary to what I had expected, Auntie Hester’s fury erupted like wildfire even further. Her eyes blazed red with wrath, and she shoved the bodyguard out of her way. She charged at me, unhinged, and her hand cracked across my face with a sharp sting, over and over.

“You little viper!” she screeched. “How much money did my husband transfer to you? Tell me! Didn't you know half of that belongs to me? It's mine!”

Her voice dripped venom. “No wonder my grand wedding was postponed! All the money he promised me—on my big day—ended up in your filthy hands!”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping into a low hiss. “How dare a mistress threaten me? Just as you know, I get anything I want. And right now, I want my money back and your life!”

With a flick of her hand, she signaled the bodyguards. They swarmed me, pinning me to the cold, unforgiving airport floor. The livestream camera zoomed in again, capturing every humiliating second of my downfall.

Auntie Hester’s manicured fingers dug into my face, gripping my already injured eye. Blood trickled down, the red staining my skin. At that moment, I could feel the wet warmth of it running down my cheek.

I lay there, broken and weak, barely clinging to consciousness. My body felt heavy, drained of all strength, as though life was slowly sucked out of me. The overwhelming shame clawed at my mind, suffocating me under its weight.

Still, despite her attack, my face remained intact, aside from the redness of my skin. Seeing that, Auntie Hester became furious and cursed through gritted teeth, “So you’ve gone and gotten some work done, huh? Think that’ll protect you? Think again!”

With a terrifying smirk, she ripped off one of her high heels and, with a calculated move, slammed the pointed heel down on my nose. The sound of bone cracking filled the air, and I felt the sharp, searing pain as one of my teeth flew out. Blood gushed into my mouth, the metallic taste making me gag.

I spat onto the dirty floor, a pool of red forming beneath me. Auntie Hester didn’t care; she paraded in front of the camera, basking in her victory.

“Ladies, this is how you handle a mistress!” She spun, her voice a triumphant echo. “Like and share, let the world see what happens when you try to steal someone else’s man!”

She planted her hands on her hips, glaring down at me. “I’ll always be Mrs. Stanton. No amount of his money will ever make you me!”

Her voice began to fade as my vision blurred, my consciousness teetering on the edge. My lips brushed the filthy airport floor, the dust clinging to every shallow breath I took. Just then, in the corner of my eye, I spotted movement—a shadow creeping toward my suitcase.

The thought of the hundred thousand in jewelry inside that suitcase gave me a surge of strength. Summoning the last remnants of my strength, I rasped, “Stop… don’t touch… my things.”

Auntie Hester’s gaze followed mine, her eyes narrowing at the suitcase. She waved a hand, and a bodyguard rushed to retrieve it. The would-be thief bolted, but Auntie Hester wasn’t done.

She released me, striding over to the suitcase like a lioness about to devour her prey. I could feel panic rising in my throat. I couldn’t let her take that jewelry. She didn’t deserve it!

Dragging myself across the floor, my limbs heavy and uncooperative, I reached her just as she opened the suitcase. The glint of diamonds and gold under the airport lights was almost blinding. As such, Auntie Hester’s eyes gleamed with unbridled greed.

As she reached out to claim her spoils, I threw myself over the suitcase, clutching it with desperate hands, my body trembling from the effort.

Seeing me covering my suitcase, her face contorted with rage, and she screeched to the bodyguards, “What are you waiting for? Pull this wretched thing away! Anything bought with my husband's money belongs to me!”

Through bloodied lips, I whispered, “You’ll never deserve it.”

The crowd had swelled into a sea of onlookers, their curious faces turning the scene into a twisted spectacle. After a long moment, airport security finally arrived, but they struggled to push through the throng of spectators.

My once-pristine designer coat, worth tens of thousands, hung in tatters around me, ripped apart by the bodyguards’ brutality. The cold air kissed my exposed skin, sending a shiver down my spine, but I barely registered it—my focus was on survival.

Even so, Auntie Hester seemed unsatisfied and her patience snapped like a brittle thread. She planted her hands on her hips, her voice dripping with venom. “Are you all weaklings? Can’t even pull her off? Hit her if you have to! I paid you—don’t waste my time!” She narrowed her eyes, fury dancing in them. “Is it because she’s pretty? That’s it, isn’t it? Men are all the same—pathetic!”

Without waiting for a response, she spat, “Move! I’ll handle it myself.”

At her command, the bodyguards kicked me hard in the back, their boots landing with bone-rattling force. Each impact sent a wave of agony through me, as if my insides were being pulverized. It wasn’t greed that kept me holding onto the jewelry—I couldn’t let the humiliation break me. I couldn’t let her win.

My injured eye had long filled with blood, my vision fading completely from that side, but I refused to scream, even as the pain became unbearable. Teeth gritted, I held on.

Finally, the bodyguards grew tired of my resistance and hauled me up like a rag doll, throwing me aside with brutal indifference. The suitcase burst open on impact, scattering the jewelry across the floor. Some of the shards sliced into my chest, embedding themselves into my skin and leaving me covered in blood.

For a moment, the pain cleared my mind. I locked eyes with Auntie Hester, her face a mask of cruelty, and forced out a whisper, “Daddy won’t let you get away with this.”

Her smirk faltered for a brief second. Dropping the livestream camera, she stomped over to me, barefoot, and drove her heel into my back. She twisted and ground her foot into my spine. With everything my body had received, my blood was now soaking the airport floor, pooling in a grotesque display beneath the suitcase.

Even so, I didn’t let go. My hands, trembling and slick with blood, clung desperately to the suitcase’s handle.

Seeing me still reluctant to let my suitcase go,

Auntie Hester’s patience reached its breaking point. With a snarl, she bent down and began prying my fingers off one by one. The force was brutal, and my nails tore from my skin, each one sending a fresh wave of searing pain through my body. My fingertips bled freely, the agony so sharp it sent cold sweat rolling down my face.

Finally, she wrenched the suitcase free, sneering as she stomped on it. “It was never yours,” she hissed. “No matter how hard you try, it’s useless!”

She raised her phone again, pointing it at my bruised, bloodied face. “This is what happens to mistresses! Challenge me, and I’ll tear your skin off in public!”

She laughed, a wicked, hollow sound. “My husband only loves me. As for the money he gave you, I’ll get back every single cent!” Her voice rose, addressing the invisible audience. “Let this be a warning to any homewreckers out there—this is the price you pay for touching what’s mine!”

Just as the last word left her lips, security finally surged through the crowd. Chaos erupted as two groups collided, the onlookers scattered in fear.

Even though Auntie Hester maintained her smug expression, I saw the flicker of anxiety behind her eyes. She leaned down toward me, her voice low and full of mockery. “You think I wanted that trash for myself? What a joke. It’s all fake garbage. I don’t care about it. I just wanted to teach you a lesson.”

Barely conscious, I lay on the ground, my body going numb from the pain and blood loss.

She grabbed the last remaining pieces of jewelry from the floor and hurled them at my face, the jewels shattering on impact, raining down over my bloodstained skin like broken glass.

Still not satisfied, she picked up the now-empty suitcase and slammed it onto my body, the weight of it knocking what little breath I had left out of me. When she was done, she dusted off her hands as if I were nothing but dirt beneath her feet.

The pain was so intense, I could hardly feel anything anymore. I hovered on the brink of unconsciousness, my body heavy with blood loss and agony. Just as my vision began to blur, I heard heavy footsteps—familiar, authoritative.

Through the haze, I saw him—my father, flanked by the most powerful men in New York. Their presence parted the crowd like the Red Sea, and a wave of relief washed over me.

My phone buzzed next to me, barely audible over the chaos. It was a call—from him.