Fifty Million Reasons To Hate Him

Harrison tore through the crowded VIP section like a bulldozer. The sheer violence radiating from his posture forced the dancing bodies to part, clearing a direct path to the center of the floor. Caspian trailed behind him, complaining loudly over the music. "Harrison, it's too loud in here, what are we-" Caspian's voice died in his throat. His eyes caught the silver sequined dress grinding against the male model. Harrison was less than fifteen feet away. Iris threw her head back, laughing at something the model said. She spun around in a fluid dance move. Her eyes swept across the crowd and slammed directly into Harrison's lethal stare. Iris's pupils contracted to pinpricks. Her lungs seized. It felt like a giant, invisible hand had just crushed her windpipe. Her wild dancing froze instantly, leaving her suspended in an awkward, mid-air pose. Oh my god! Oh my god! her mind shrieked in absolute terror. What is the devil doing here?! My reputation is ruined! But Iris's survival instincts were terrifyingly fast. In less than a second, she shoved the male model away. She let out a sharp, fake cry of pain and deliberately twisted her ankle. She collapsed dramatically onto the edge of a curved leather booth, clutching her leg. She blindly grabbed a half-empty bottle of Tequila from the table and took a massive, reckless gulp. The cheap liquor burned her throat. She coughed violently, forcing real, stinging tears into her eyes. By the time Harrison, Caspian, and Jax reached the booth, the wild party girl was gone. Instead, they found a shattered, broken woman, her makeup smeared with tears, desperately trying to drown her agonizing sorrow in alcohol. Jax stared down at her, his jaw practically hitting the floor. He couldn't reconcile this half-naked, sobbing mess with the elegant Mrs. Torres. Iris slowly tilted her head up. She looked at Harrison with eyes full of unbearable agony and desperate, lingering love. "Harrison?" she whimpered, her voice trembling violently. She reached out a shaking hand toward him, as if he were her only salvation. Caspian's heart broke. He turned and shoved Harrison hard in the chest. "Look at what you did to her!" Caspian yelled over the music. "You drove her to this!" Harrison didn't even blink. He didn't move an inch. He stared down at Iris's tear-streaked face. His lips curled into a cruel, sickening sneer. Because right at that moment, her inner voice was broadcasting loud and clear. Yes! Good boy! Yell at him! Make him feel guilty so he doesn't try to take back my fifty million! The pure, concentrated hypocrisy made Harrison's stomach churn with physical disgust. He stepped forward, his shadow falling over her trembling body. Iris shrank back against the leather cushions. She pulled her knees to her chest, sobbing loudly. "Please," she cried out. "Don't look at me like that! It hurts so much... I just wanted the pain to stop!" If he grabs my arm and leaves a bruise, I am definitely suing for assault, her mind calculated coldly. Harrison's remaining patience snapped. He lunged forward. His large hand clamped around her delicate wrist like a steel vice. Iris let out a genuine, sharp gasp of pain as his fingers dug into her skin. Jax stepped forward to intervene. "Harrison, stop!" Harrison snapped his head toward Jax. His eyes were completely black with rage. "If either of you touches me," Harrison snarled, his voice dropping to a terrifying register, "we are done." Jax froze, stepping back with his hands raised. Harrison yanked Iris upward. He didn't care that she was wearing six-inch heels. He didn't care that she stumbled and nearly fell face-first onto the sticky floor. "Harrison, please! Let me go!" Iris screamed, thrashing against his grip. Watch the dress! Watch the dress! You're going to rip the sequins, you brute! Harrison ignored her. He wrapped his thick arm tightly around her waist. He practically lifted her off the ground, carrying her out of the VIP section by sheer force. People stopped dancing. Dozens of eyes stared in shock. The moment he grabbed her, two of his plainclothes security detail materialized from the crowd. They moved with lethal efficiency, instantly forming a solid, impenetrable barrier around Harrison and Iris, physically shoving onlookers back to clear a direct path toward the exit. "No photos! Back away!" one of the guards commanded, his voice cutting through the thumping music like a whip. Someone pulled out a phone to record the scene. One of Harrison's security detail instantly stepped in, snatching the phone and crushing it under his heavy boot. Iris buried her face in Harrison's shoulder, weeping uncontrollably. She played the victim perfectly, cementing Harrison's public image as a ruthless monster. Caspian and Jax stood frozen by the booth, watching the brutal exit in stunned silence. Harrison kicked open the emergency exit door in the back alley. The cool night wind hit his face, carrying the smell of exhaust fumes and wet asphalt. A sleek black Maybach was idling by the curb. Harrison ripped the back door open and shoved Iris roughly inside. He climbed in right behind her and slammed the heavy door shut. The sound echoed like a vault locking. The driver took one look at Harrison's face in the rearview mirror and instantly pressed the button to raise the soundproof partition. The back of the Maybach became a sealed, silent tomb. Iris huddled in the far corner of the leather seat. She kept her face buried in her hands, letting out soft, pathetic whimpers. Harrison reached up and violently yanked his silk tie loose. He turned his head. In the dim, ambient lighting of the car, his eyes looked dead. "How long," Harrison said, his voice slicing through the silence like a razor blade, "are you going to keep acting?" Iris's heart skipped a violent beat.