Murdering Love

I had no intention of tangling with them any further and walked straight toward the exit.

Seeing me leave, Alexander Hughes made to chase after me at once.

But Isabella Reed let out a pained cry, halting him mid-stride. He turned back in alarm to check on her.

Outside, Thomas Reed approached the moment I stepped out.

He opened his mouth to say, “Ma’am—” but Alexander’s sharp voice cut him off.

“Drive to the nearest hospital. Now!”

He yanked open the car door and carried the unconscious Isabella into the back seat.

When Thomas didn’t move fast enough, Alexander lost his temper.

“Are you deaf? I said drive her to the hospital!”

But Thomas remained at my side.

Fury darkened Alexander’s face.

“Claire Bennett, you actually dared to buy off people from the Hughes family? Do you even realize where you are? This is Hughes territory—you don’t get to run wild here.”

Of course I knew where I was.

And I remembered clearly what Ethan Walker had once told me: When you can’t endure anymore—don’t.

Seeing me stand calm and unmoved, Alexander’s expression soured further.

“I’ll let this slide for now. But if Isabella or her child suffers even the slightest harm, I’ll make you pay dearly.”

Look at him—clutching that woman protectively. The sight was sickening.

My voice was cold.

“Get out of the car.”

Alexander blinked, as though he hadn’t heard me correctly.

“What did you say?”

I had no patience for his games. With a glance at the bodyguard behind me, the man understood at once. He stepped forward and dragged both Alexander and Isabella from the back seat.

Isabella hit the ground and woke with a cry of pain.

Alexander was still reeling.

“Claire, how dare you! To defy me here, on Hughes ground?”

I gave a cold snort.

“Defy you? Alexander, don’t forget who you are.”

Of course he hadn’t forgotten.

Whenever he represented the Hughes branch family at these banquets, his father always warned him to tread carefully.

But he hadn’t expected me to show up—or to strike at Isabella right in front of everyone.

That was why he’d lost control.

Now, desperate to salvage his standing, he moved as if to rush at me, but the bodyguard blocked his path.

I cast Alexander a dismissive glance and slid into the car without hesitation.

Only then did he notice the license plate.

His face shifted.

“Get out! That’s not a car you’re qualified to sit in.”

What a joke. Since when did I need his permission for where I sat?

As I pulled the door shut, Alexander lunged, jamming his arm into the frame despite the pain.

“Claire, get out now. This is my uncle Ethan’s car.”

He was so focused on me he didn’t even hear Isabella’s moans behind him.

I stared at him, unimpressed.

“So what?”

Seeing my indifference, Alexander grew anxious.

“You don’t understand—my uncle’s methods are ruthless. No one in New York high society dares cross him. Don’t bring disaster on yourself.”

I didn’t know who he thought he was pretending for, but his false concern only made me sick.

“Let go. Stop being an eyesore.”

When he realized I had no intention of yielding, his patience snapped. He reached to drag me out of the car.

“Claire, I told you—this is the Hughes estate. Here, you obey me.”

I slipped out of his grasp with a glare.

“Don’t touch me.”

Perhaps it was the hardness of my tone—or the undisguised disgust in my eyes—that finally made him falter.