?<strong>Chapter 491:</strong>


    The thought made him feel disgusted. Carrie would never behave like this. She would always maintain her distance, pulling away at the slightest hint of anything inappropriate. Even if this woman bore some resemnce to Carrie, her vulgar actions felt like a sacrilege to the memory of Carrie.


    Terrified, Madilyn attempted to pull her hand away, her voice trembling as she whimpered, “Mr. Garcia, you’re hurting me.”


    Daxton didn’t acknowledge her plea, his grip only growing firmer. Madilyn winced in pain, but she didn’t dare push him away.


    Instead, with her free hand, she offered him the wine ss. “Mr. Garcia, please, have a drink.”


    After a beat, Daxton finally released her, settling back into the sofa with a soft, coldmand: “Get out.”


    Reluctant to let go of such a handsome client, Madilyn pressed on, holding up the wine ss. “Mr. Garcia, what don’t you like about me? Is it my outfit? I can change into something else if you’d prefer. Maybe ck stockings? Or a uniform? Just tell me what you like.”


    As she spoke, she reached up, swiftly undoing the sp at her cor, letting it fall open to reveal a glimpse of her curves.


    Daxton’s patience snapped. He snatched the wine ss from her hand and poured it over her head without an ounce of remorse.


    As the liquid dripped down, he muttered coldly, “I have cleanliness issues.”


    Madilyn’s eyes filled with tears, her cheeks flushed with humiliation. During her time at the Oasis Club, Madilyn had met many from the upper echelons of society. Even the most brazen ones, who didn’t hesitate to be bold in public, always kept up appearances.


    But this was the first time someone had openly called her “dirty” right to her face. The insult stung deeper than she ever expected.


    In Daxton’s world, the divide wasn’t between men and women—it was simply Carrie and everyone else.


    Madilyn, with her striking beauty and charm, was used tomanding attention and softening even the hardest of hearts. Any other man might have been swayed by her vulnerable expression. Yet, as she stood before Daxton, her efforts were met with nothing but cold disdain.


    Madilyn, realizing her defeat, swallowed her pride. She stood up and left the room quietly, her heels clicking softly against the floor.


    As she exited, a bitter thought crossed her mind: Those sleazy, middle-aged men at least knew how to indulge a woman’s charm. Compared to Daxton, they might not be so bad after all. At least they weren’t this… twisted.


    The manager, stationed anxiously outside the door, panicked at the sight of Madilyn leaving, her hair dripping with spilled alcohol. “Madilyn, what happened? How did you offend Mr. Garcia?”


    Daxton Garcia wasn’t an ordinary patron. The manager both respected and feared him.


    Thest time Daxton had visited the Oasis Club, he had brought a group of foreign men with identical tattoos on their necks. While the manager hadn’t known who they were at first, a powerful figureter exined that the tattoos were the symbol of a notorious international gang. It wasmon knowledge in their line of work—someone who keptpany like that likely had blood on their hands.


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