Chapter 787 Threat
The hall emptied, leaving only Quentin and Mark.
Quentin took off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the sofa, his expression cold and his voice even colder.
"Mark, since you chose to court death, don't blame me for being ruthless."
"Cut the crap. Even if you beat me to the ground today, I won't let you take Grace. Bring it on."
This time, they were serious, each move deadly, neither holding back.
After a few rounds, Mark was at a disadvantage.
Quentin's long fingers gripped Mark's neck tightly, his gaze as sharp as ice.
His voice was filled with sarcasm, "Mark, I told you, you'll never be my match. Hand over Grace."
Mark stared back coldly, gritting his teeth, "I said, never."
"Willie," Quentin's patience was gone, "drag him out."
"Yes, Mr. Taft."
Willie signaled, and a few men stepped forward, ready to act.
"Quentin!" Suddenly, a familiar voice came from the second-floor corner.
Grace struggled to walk out, her face pale, her body weak and unsteady, completely devoid of strength.
Yet, her determined eyes fixed on Quentin, "Mark is my friend. I won't let you hurt him."
"What did you say?" Quentin's brows furrowed in disbelief as he looked at Grace.
He never expected her to side with Mark.
"I said, let him go and leave!"
"Quentin, am I not clear enough?"
Quentin sneered, stepping forward and crossing the stairs to stand in front of her.
Their eyes met, and Grace looked at him coldly. "This is Mark's home. You have no right to be so domineering here. I know you have power, but there is justice and law in this world."
"Mark is a public figure. If you go to court, you might not win."
Her voice was firm and powerful.
Though Grace was weak, she did not back down.
"So, you've decided to protect him? Grace, have you thought about what if I insist on killing him today?"
Grace sneered, her cold eyes meeting his. "What is there to fear? Then I'll die with him!"
"Grace!" Quentin was truly furious, "Do you know what you're saying?"
"No need for your kind reminder. I know exactly what I'm saying. Mark is my friend. He has sincerely cared for me, saving me from danger time and again. I cherish this friend very much."
"So I will stand by him through thick and thin."
Quentin, enraged, tore off his tie, his voice almost gritting through his teeth, "Fine, very well!"
Grace looked at Quentin with disappointment.
'Quentin, you are the one in the wrong. How can you be so self-righteous?' She thought.
Her heart was filled with sorrow as she tried to suppress the pain in her chest.
"Willie!" Quentin's voice was icy, "Do it. I want Mark begging for mercy in front of me today."
As soon as Quentin finished speaking, the men surrounded Mark.
Their punches rained down like a storm.
Mark, already injured, was no match for them.
Soon, Mark was covered in wounds, his arms, legs, and chest all battered.
His face was also bruised and swollen from several punches.
Grace was heartbroken, covering her mouth, the alcohol in her system sobering up considerably.
She reached out and grabbed Quentin's sleeve, her voice soft and low, "It's all my fault. It has nothing to do with Mark. I beg you to let him go."
"Please, let him go."
Her voice trembled, and she was completely out of strength.
"Let him go?" Quentin sneered, his cold face devoid of any warmth.
"Grace, you want me to let him go?" Quentin reached out, gently lifting her chin, his voice probing.
Grace nodded desperately.
Suddenly, Quentin smirked, "Fine, I can let him go, but it's not up to me. It's up to you, understand?"
Grace shook her head, tears streaming down as she looked at Quentin with red, pained eyes. "No, Quentin, don't force me. I beg you, don't force me, okay?"
"I will never go back to being your mistress."
Quentin's warm fingers gently touched her cheek, wiping away her tears.
His voice was gentle, yet as terrifying as a ghost, "Grace, you're crying for him?"
"Do you know how I feel right now?"
Quentin's anger was like a storm, freezing and terrifying.
Grace's body trembled uncontrollably.
She immediately reached out, wiping her tears forcefully, "Fine, I won't cry. I just beg you to let him go, okay?"
"Mark is different from you. He makes money with his looks. If you keep this up, he'll be disfigured."
Quentin's fingers tightened, almost distorting her face. "So, in the end, you're worried about him, begging for him. Grace, is he that important to you? More important than me?"
Grace was choked with sobs, unable to speak.
Her heart was filled with pain, gripping her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Just days ago, Quentin was the epitome of gentleness, doing everything tenderly.
But in just a few days, Quentin had become a different person, so heartless and ruthless, it was terrifying.
Grace shook her head, retreating, "Quentin, how did you become like this? Do you know? You're so unfamiliar, it's scary."
Suddenly, a painful groan came from below.
Mark spat out a mouthful of warm blood.
Grace was truly frightened.
She struggled to move, wanting to go down, but as soon as she took a step, Quentin blocked her tightly, "Don't go."
"Quentin, how can you be so heartless? He'll die. I beg you, I was wrong. It's all my fault. I admit my mistake. I beg for mercy. Please let him go, okay?"
Quentin's expression remained unchanged, only asking, "So, you're willing to come back with me?"
Grace bit her lip, about to nod.
Mark suddenly punched the men around him, shouting, "Grace, don't compromise or submit to him, and don't let him threaten you because of me."
"Don't worry, he can't kill me!"
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