Chapter 41 If I Find You There Again, I'll Break Your Legs
Robert pinned her with his arm, taunting, "You'd rather go out and let the world see just how loose the heiress of the Koch family can be?"
Molly's heart plummeted. She clung to his arm, her eyes filled with pleading. This devil meant business.
The last time she showed even a hint of defiance, he immediately got up from bed, causing the Koch family stocks to plummet to danger levels. Her father was so distraught that he ended up hospitalized. Despite her pleas, Robert wouldn't bother with her, much less see her.
Now, he was willing to meet her, and she couldn't afford to lose this chance.
His cold gaze fell upon her. Despite her stunning looks, she was playing the innocence card.
'I've been out of the country for years, and by now, countless men must have had their share of her.'
Without a moment's hesitation, he tore her blouse open and pushed up her skirt.
Her neck caught in his grip, and she was forced to look up at his handsome face, which showed no compassion. He only brought her an endless trail of pain.
Molly felt like a frail boat caught in a tempest, completely at the mercy of the raging storm around her.
Two hours later.
Robert climbed off her.
He got up, casually tossing a piece of clothing on the floor for Molly to cover herself.
She held her nose at the strong smell but had no choice but to wear it, as her own clothes were torn.
"Are you unhappy, Molly? Did you not enjoy yourself?" Robert asked viciously.
Molly's face turned pale. Her legs wobbled slightly weaker.
Yet, in her mind, she wondered how this brute had such strength, especially after just being with someone else. How could he still be so harsh with her?
Her voice trembled as she spoke, "Mr. Perot, please, can you give my father a break? He's been in the hospital for days."
"Cut him some slack?" Robert licked the corner of his mouth, the scar on his forehead like a badge of honor. "Did anyone ever take it easy on the Perot family?"
His eyes narrowed as he continued, "Molly, you think your body's worth that much? You know why I slept with that woman first, right? Because you're more despicable than all of them!"
His words were like peeling the skin off Molly's face and grinding it underfoot.
She swayed, nearly losing her balance.
Robert stepped forward, gripping her chin tightly, and hissed in her ear, "I'm sparing your dad's life for now. I'll decide when I'm done with him, depending on my mood. Don't make me upset, got it?"
Molly's mouth opened, her jaw aching too much to make a sound. "Understood."
"Get out!" Robert shoved her away violently, and she stumbled to the ground, her knees bleeding.
Tears fell to the floor as she got up and ran out.
Downstairs, Wesley watched from afar as Molly hastily left, and he started up the stairs.
Upon entering, he was hit with the stale air of lasciviousness. Glancing over, he remarked, "Couldn't even wait to get to a hotel, huh?"
Robert sat, smoking, his eyes filled with ruthlessness.
Wesley wanted to say something, to offer some level of comfort, but the words wouldn't come. Anyone who knew what kind of life Robert had endured the past few years wouldn't dare.
...
In the underground parking garage, Harper was abruptly shoved into the driver's seat, and the man forcefully clicked her seatbelt into place before slamming the door shut and locking it.
"Francis, let me out," Harper demanded, seething at his domineering behavior.
But Francis paid her no mind, started the car, and speeded out like a shot.
Harper, frightened, clung to the seatbelt, fearing she'd be thrown from the car.
Asphalt Boulevard was nearly deserted, and their ride to the villa was unimpeded by traffic.
Francis drove faster and faster, the speedometer needle climbing. When the car made turns, it was almost as if drifting.
Harper knew Francis was angry, but she didn't understand why.
She should be the one angry. He'd wrongly accused her, repeatedly chosen Chloe's side, hurting her over and over.
But right now, she couldn't focus on that, her voice trembling as she begged, "Francis, slow down."
He acted as if he didn't hear her, his foot never easing off the accelerator.
Harper started crying, her stomach in knots. She managed to cry out, "Francis, stop the car. I'm going to be sick."
"Stop, please stop, I'm gonna..." Unable to hold it back, she gagged.
"Screech—"
The car came to an abrupt halt, brakes screeching.
In less than fifteen minutes, they had arrived at the Moou Residence.
The moment the car came to a stop, Harper dashed to the restroom on the first floor without hesitation, retching into the sink. But her stomach was empty. She hadn't had dinner, and despite the discomfort, nothing came up.
Next to her, a warm cup of water appeared. She grabbed it desperately and gulped it down, some relief finally washing over her churning stomach.
Once she could gather herself, Harper lashed out, pounding her fists against the man's chest, tears streaming down her face. "Francis, you're out of your mind! I still want to live, you hear me? You scared the life out of me."
Francis couldn't bear to see Harper cry. He enveloped her in his arms, her tears staining his shirt. Harper's fear for the baby was palpable, a dull ache gnawing at her lower abdomen. The thought of something happening to their child overwhelmed her.
Noticing her pale face, Francis couldn't help but tighten up, asking in a low voice, "Are you okay?"
The thought of her baby being in danger sent Harper into a fury, and she shoved him away. "What's it to you?"
His eyes darkened with anger as he stared at her. "What's it to me? You tell me, what's it to me?"
Harper looked away, ignoring him, which only fueled his anger more. "Harper, you've got some nerve. I told you to stay at home, and there you go, off to some bar."
He clenched his jaw, his voice laced with sarcasm. "What, was I the tenth guy to show up there for you? Must've been a good night, huh?"
"You're the twelfth." It was a sudden, unexpected retort from Harper.
Francis was taken aback, his hands itching to wring her neck, but the sight of her pallid little face held him back. "Are you proud of yourself?"
Confused, Harper replied, "Weren't you the one who asked me?"
"I—!" Francis was seething, for the first time realizing this young lady was harder to deal with than a multi-billion-dollar contract.
His voice dropped, and an icy command followed, "If I ever find out you go to a place like that again, I'll break your legs!"
Harper was at her wit's end. "Francis, we're getting a divorce. Isn't it a bit unreasonable for you to keep tabs on your ex-wife?"
A nerve twitched in Francis' forehead, his anger turning into a bitter laugh. "So eager to get divorced so you can hook up with other men? Have you already found someone? Is it your 'Senior'? Did you enjoy the coffee with him today?"
That's when Harper realized the cause of his anger. It was all about Keith, but this ignited her fury even more. "Francis, are you sick? Stalking me now?"
Francis didn't send anyone to follow Harper. He got the incriminating photo anonymously on his phone while trying to find her at the bar. The picture showed them touching fingers and sharing what seemed like flirtatious looks.
The more Francis thought about it, the angrier he became. With one hand braced against the wall, he snapped, "Do you even remember who you are?"
Her reply was equally heated. "What about you? Do you remember who you are?"
Before she could finish, Francis pinned her against the wall, his hand gripping her chin as he kissed her.
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