The Jilted Bride's Billion Dollar Revenge

Coleton's body convulsed on the floor. He was gasping for air, his forehead pressed against the rug, sweat soaking his hair.

The heavy thwack of the blackwood cane echoed in the silent room, vibrating against the walls.

Jovani scrambled away from Katrina and crawled toward Adelbert. He grabbed his grandfather's pant leg. "Grandpa, stop! Please! He's had enough!"

Adelbert kicked Jovani away with a swift jerk of his leg. His cloudy eyes remained locked on Katrina, trying to force her to break.

Katrina sat in the velvet chair, her expression completely unreadable.

Delmus watched Coleton's breathing turn shallow. He realized the situation was spiraling out of control. If the Meyer heir was permanently crippled, the billion-dollar merger would collapse entirely.

Delmus stepped forward quickly. As Adelbert raised the cane for a sixth strike, Delmus reached out and grabbed the brass tip mid-air.

"That's enough, Adelbert," Delmus said, his voice heavy and serious. "Blood has been spilled. The insult is answered. If you break him, we both lose."

Adelbert let out a long, tense breath. He had been looking for a way out of the standoff. He slowly lowered the cane, pretending he was still furious.

He pointed the tip of the cane at Coleton's bleeding back. "You should thank your father-in-law for his mercy. I would have broken your legs."

Katrina let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. She stood up from the velvet chair, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from her skirt.

"Delmus showed mercy," Katrina announced, her voice ringing clear and cold. "I didn't offer a single drop of pity."

She looked at her father. "You can stay here and play your fake family games with them. I am leaving."

She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and walked toward the double doors.

Brandin stepped in front of the doorway, blocking her path with his broad shoulders.

"You can't leave," Brandin warned, his voice dropping low. "Look out the window. The paparazzi are swarming the main gates."

Katrina frowned. She turned her head toward the large bay windows. In the distance, past the manicured lawns, she could see the rapid, blinding flashes of cameras lighting up the iron gates.

She quickly weighed her options. Walking out there alone with a suitcase at 3:00 AM would give the media the exact narrative Brandin wanted. She was physically trapped on the estate.

Katrina turned back around. She looked at the head butler. "Alistair. Prepare the guest room in the West Wing. The one furthest from here."

Alistair wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. He glanced at Adelbert, who gave a nearly invisible nod. "Right away, ma'am."

Katrina dragged her suitcase behind her. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor as she walked down the long, empty corridor. Her back was straight, her posture unyielding.

When she reached the West Wing room, she stepped inside, slammed the door in Alistair's face, and threw the heavy brass deadbolt with a loud click.

Back in the bridal suite, the suffocating tension broke the moment Katrina left.

The estate's private medical team rushed in. They began cutting away Coleton's ruined shirt to clean the bloody welts. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air.

Adelbert leaned on his cane. He scanned the room with cold eyes. He caught Rocco's attention and gestured toward the dark corner of the room.

Rocco stepped into the shadows, leaning down to hear the old man.

Adelbert lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Once the doctors patch him up, drag him down to the basement."

Rocco's eyes widened in shock. "Sir?"

"Take a leather whip," Adelbert ordered, his voice devoid of any human emotion. "Keep hitting him. Avoid the face and organs. Just break the skin."

Rocco swallowed hard. "But the girl left. The punishment is over."

"The injuries aren't severe enough," Adelbert hissed. "When the press takes his photo tomorrow, he needs to look like he barely survived. I will build a cage of public sympathy so strong, she will never be able to file those divorce papers."