No one had ever seen Hudson’s temper explode like this.
Xavier, dazed and bleeding, was first enraged, then confused by Hudson’s words.
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“Your… sister?” he slurred through split lips, looking from Hudson’s furious face to Xylia’s cold
one<b>. </b>
Even beaten, his malice couldn’t be contained.
“What is this, some kind of kinky role–y? Since when did you get a sister?”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Hudson roared, struggling against the friends holding him back.
Xylia moved quickly to his side, cing a calming hand on his arm.
“Hudson, don’t. He’s not worth it. He’s just a toad croaking nonsense.”
Xavier’s expression darkened.
“What did you just call me, you bitch?”
“I called you a toad,” Xylia said, her voice icy and clear, cutting through the tension in the room. “Eight years ago, you were a pathetic creature. Now you’re just an uglier, more viler one. Your essence hasn’t changed.”
Her wordscerated his pride.
Xavier red, his eyes burning with hatred.
“You dare? Say that again!”
He tried to lunge at her, but his own crew held him back.
Hudson shook off his friends‘ grip and stepped diagonally in front of Xylia, a solid wall between her and any threat.
Xavier couldn’tprehend it. Why was a Sadler treating this discarded woman like she was made of ss<b>? </b>
“Spare me the noble act, Sadler! I know I can’t match your family’s money, but this <b>is </b>a race. Did you bring this shameless woman here to sick us all out before it even starts?”
That was the final straw. A wild, dangerous smile spread across Hudson’s face–a chilling sight.
9:36 Wed, Sep 17
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“Zayn,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “Sorry for ruining your lounge. Dinner’s on me next time.”
Before Zayn could process the apology, Hudson moved.
He exploded forward like a sprung coil. His foot mmed into Xavier’s chest, catapulting him back into the hallway.
Hudson was on him again, pinning him to the concrete floor. His fists became relentless hammers, raining down blow after blow on Xavier’s face and body, each impact echoing with a dull thud, apanied by Xavier’s uncontroble, guttural howls of pain.
“I warned you,” Hudson growled, his voice a low, dangerous snarl. “My sister is not someone you can insult. Since you have no respect for your own life, don’t me me if I put you in the hospital.”
Their separate crews rushed forward to intervene.
But this time, Zayn and his group moved to block Xavier’s teammates, creating a wall that allowed Hudson his cathartic release.
Seeing the terrifying force behind the blows, Xylia quickly stepped forward and grabbed his
arm.
“Hudson, stop!”
She was terrified that in his blinding rage, he might go too far, and the consequences would
be irreversible.
Hudson finally stilled, his chest heaving. He pulled Xylia to her feet, then looked down at Xavier, who was curled into a whimpering ball on the ground.
His expression was one of pure, cold contempt.
“Remember this, Xavier,” he said, his voice icy and precise. “From now on, every time I see you, I will do this.”
After delivering the threat, he took Xylia’s hand and led her out of the racing club.
“Hudson, what about the race?” Xylia asked, ncing back worriedly.
“Racing against that filth would sully my eye and my character,” he stated, not breaking his stride.
Once outside, they had only walked a short distance when Hudson suddenly stopped and turned to her.
<b>9:36 </b>Wed<b>, </b>Sep 17
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“Xylia,” he asked, his anger reced by concern, “how do you know someone like Xavier?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Xylia exined part of her past.
She told him how, after Tessa returned to the Schultz family, Qadir hade to annul their engagement.
He had married Tessa but passed away from a sudden illness less than a monthter.
“Though the circumstances were never clear,” Xylia said quietly, “Xavier decided I was to me. When I was in Jupiton, he targeted me relentlessly. It only stopped after I married Connor and he left for Norhill.”
Listening to her story, Hudson’s eyes filled with a pained protectiveness.
He said nothing, simply gave her head a gentle pat before leading her away.
*****
At the Ford Mansion.
Following Orion’s passing, his will had entrusted the Ford Group to Connor.
Connor’s uncle and his family had received a small portion of shares; after a brief, contentious scene at the Mansion, they had departed.
Connor’s father still had unfinished affairs overseas. After the funeral service–a somber, formal gathering held a week after the burial–he boarded another ne, still wearing the dark suit he had worn to the quiet, formal memorial service.
Mnie had flown out with him to help settle what remained, and neither of them hade back.
The Mansion was now oppressively silent, upied only by Connor and Sonny.
As Sonny came downstairs, he saw his father standing by the living room’s floor–to–ceiling window, phone pressed to his ear.
“Useless!” Connor snapped, his voice cutting through the quiet. “It’s been two weeks and you haven’t found a single trace of her! You have three more days. If you have no news by then, you’re all fired!”
In Sonny’s memory, his father was controlled and stoic; he rarely lost his temper sopletely.
The boy hovered at the bottom of the stairs, watching with concern.
9:36 Wed, <b>Sep </b>17
When a servant ushered Tessa inside, a wave of relief washed over Sonny’s face.
He immediately ran over and hugged her.
“Aunt Tessa, you’re here! Please, you have to talk to Dad. He’s been so angrytely.”
He looked up at her, his small face etched with worry.
Tessa crouched down and gently cupped his face.
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Mommy will help calm your father down.”
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When she called herself “Mommy,” Sonny was momentarily surprised, then beamed with delight.
The idea thrilled him. Now he could finally have Tessa as his mother.
He watched her walk toward Connor, then covered his mouth to hide a giggle and scurried back upstairs.
Tessa walked up behind Connor.
He had just ended his call and was staring down at his phone, his brow furrowed as he typed out a work message.
A delicate, manicured hand suddenly slid around his waist.
He flinched violently, sidestepping the touch and spinning around to see who was behind him.
Tessa jumped back, startled by his strong reaction, her hands raised as if in surrender.
When Connor saw it was her, his furrowed brows rxed.
“Tessa. What are you doing here?” he spoke lightly.
She pursed her lips, looking up at him with a wounded expression.
“You haven’te <i>to </i>see me once since I was released,” she said, her voice soft andced with grievance.
She looked fragile and pitiable, a look designed to evokepassion.
The coldness in Connor’s eyes did soften. A hint of his usual affectionate demeanor returned.
“I’ve been busy,” he said, his tone quieter, gentler.
9:37 Wed<b>, </b>Sep 17
“With what?” Tessa pressed, taking a tentative step closer.
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Connor remained silent. He pocketed his phone and walked toward the living room without answering.
Tessa quickly followed, wisely dropping the subject. Noticing the water pitcher on the coffee table, she poured a ss and handed it to him.
“Here,” she said softly. “I… I’m not angry with you anymore.”
Her tone was forgiving, designed to soothe. Connor epted the ss almost absently and took a sip.
As he drank, Tessa watched him, a faint, triumphant smile ying on her lips before she quickly schooled her features back into a mask of gentle concern.
AD
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