Cheated On Me? I Married a Tycoon

Ayla forced her breathing to steady. She looked up into the man's terrifyingly calm eyes.

"I'm reading public SEC filings," Ayla said, her voice dripping with ice. "I'm not a hacker."

Cassius let out a low, rough chuckle. He opened his mouth to speak, but a loud crash at the entrance of the lounge cut him off.

Two massive bouncers were shoved violently aside.

Axel stormed into the speakeasy, radiating pure, unhinged rage. Kristal trailed closely behind him, a smug smile plastered on her face.

Axel's eyes swept the dark room and instantly locked onto Ayla sitting at the bar.

He'd been forced to fly to New York for an emergency board meeting about the impending PR disaster, and his security team, leveraging Farrell tech with the city's surveillance network, had flagged her face entering the building.

Axel marched across the room, his heavy footsteps echoing over the jazz music.

He lunged forward and grabbed Ayla's wrist. His fingers dug into her fragile bones with brutal, bruising force.

"Is this how low you've sunk?" Axel spat, his face inches from hers. "Begging for drinks from random men in a basement?"

Ayla gritted her teeth against the pain shooting up her arm. She tried to yank her hand back, but his grip was like iron.

"Let go of me," Ayla hissed. "Tracking my location is a felony."

Kristal stepped up next to Axel, crossing her arms. "We had to cancel three investor calls to hunt you down, Ayla," she sneered. "Cut off from the Farrell money for one day and you're already selling yourself for a glass of cheap liquor."

The surrounding patrons turned their heads, watching the drama unfold. But recognizing Axel Farrell, no one dared to intervene.

Axel reached into his jacket, pulled out a blank check, and slammed it onto the bar counter.

"Cash out whatever this guy paid for her," Axel barked at the bartender. "I don't want his dirty money touching my wife."

Standing just inches away in the shadows, Cassius's eyes went completely dead. The temperature around him seemed to drop ten degrees.

Axel didn't even notice him. He yanked Ayla's arm violently, trying to drag her off the barstool.

"You're coming with me to a psychiatric ward," Axel snarled. "You've completely lost your mind."

Ayla's wrist burned with pain. She looked at the glass of untouched bourbon sitting on the bar.

Without a second of hesitation, Ayla grabbed the glass with her free hand.

She twisted her body and threw the entire glass of hard liquor directly into Axel's face.

The alcohol splashed directly into his open eyes.

Axel let out a howl of agony. His hands flew to his face, instantly releasing Ayla's wrist.

Kristal shrieked, frantically digging into her purse for a tissue.

Axel's face was twisted in pure, blind fury. He wiped his eyes, raised his right hand high into the air, and swung it down with all his strength, aiming a brutal slap right at Ayla's face.

Ayla didn't blink. She stood her ground, ready to take the hit to secure assault charges.

The slap never landed.

Axel's wrist stopped dead in mid-air.

A massive hand clamped around Axel's forearm like a steel vice.

Cassius stepped out of the shadows, his towering frame completely shielding Ayla from Axel.

Cassius squeezed his hand. The sickening sound of bone grinding against bone echoed in the quiet bar.

Axel gasped, his knees buckling slightly as cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Cassius looked down at Axel with the absolute boredom of a god looking at an insect.

"In this lounge," Cassius said, his voice a lethal, quiet rasp, "no one touches a lady on my tab."

"Who the fuck are you?!" Axel screamed, his face pale with pain. "Do you know who I am? I'll destroy you!"

Behind Cassius, two men in tailored black suits stepped forward. As they moved, their jackets shifted, revealing the distinct, bulky outlines of military-grade tactical holsters strapped to their ribs.

Axel's bodyguards, who had just rushed in, froze instantly. They recognized the hardware. This wasn't corporate security. This was a death squad.

Cassius released Axel's arm with a flick of his wrist, as if discarding a piece of trash.

Cassius reached into his pocket, pulled out a pristine white silk handkerchief, and slowly wiped his fingers. He dropped the silk onto the floor right at Axel's feet.

"Scram," Cassius ordered. One word. Absolute dominance.

Axel clutched his bruised wrist. He looked at the armed men, then at Cassius. The humiliation burned his face red, but the primal fear in his gut forced him to step back.

He grabbed Kristal's arm and practically ran out of the lounge.

Ayla stood frozen, staring at the broad, muscular back of the man who had just humiliated the most powerful tech CEO in California. Her heart was beating frantically against her ribs.

Cassius turned around. He looked down at the angry red handprint blooming on Ayla's wrist.

His dark eyes flicked up to meet hers.

"Your taste in men," Cassius murmured, his lips curling into a mocking smirk, "is truly tragic."