Chapter 9

Mystic Cube was one of Etherea City's most exclusive private clubs, a playground for the wealthy and powerful.

Latisha had never been to a place like this before. Dressed in her simple clothes, she felt utterly out of place.

The private room was crowded, and in the center of it all was Nikita. She was lounging on a sofa, hands laced behind her head, her posture more nonchalant than any of the men in the room.

“So, bro,” Nikita said, glancing at her older brother, Killian Stafford. “Did you really drag me all the way down here just so the great CEO Clifford could read me the riot act?"

She shot a pointed look at Clifford and Yesenia, who was seated beside him.

Clifford leaned back against the cushions, his face half-hidden in shadow, making him look all the more menacing.

Killian's brow was furrowed. "Just apologize to Yesenia Winslet, and we can all go home."

Nikita scoffed. “And what makes her so special that I should apologize?"

"Nikita, stop messing around!"

Everyone knew Yesenia was Clifford's darling. Nikita was playing with fire.

"I'm not messing around. I didn't like her, so I hit her. So what? Hey, bro, you don't apologize to the chicken before you eat your chicken soup, do you?"

Yesenia's face turned green. She shot to her feet, then immediately winced and sat back down because of her injured ankle. "Don't you go too far! Clifford and I were together long before he married that mute!"

Nikita gave her a sideways glance and then sat up straight, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “If we're playing that game, Latisha's known him for over a decade. Where were you then?"

“That's different! She's just an orphan the Lamberts took pity on—"

CRASH!

Clifford slammed his glass down on the table with such force that it shattered, spilling liquor across the polished surface. He leaned forward, his face now fully illuminated, his expression terrifyingly dark. He turned his head slowly toward Nikita. "Apologize."

Nikita just raised an eyebrow. "No."

Flint, trying to mediate, spoke up from a corner. "Come on, Clifford, is this really necessary? We've all been friends for years."

For the sake of a woman, it wasn't worth it, though he didn't dare say that last part out loud.

Clifford shot him a look that silenced him instantly.

Killian sighed. "I'll apologize for her. You know how she is, Clifford. Getting her to apologize is harder than killing her."

Clifford picked up a napkin and leaned back into the shadows, slowly wiping his fingers. "You'll apologize for her?" he said casually. "Fine. Drink every bottle on this table."

Killian froze. There were at least twenty bottles of hard liquor on the table.

Yesenia was silent, unsure what to do. She had wanted to see Nikita humiliated, but now Clifford was targeting Killian She couldn't tell it he was defending her honor or just venting his own anger.

After a moment's hesitation, Killian nodded. “Alright."

"Bro, are you crazy?" Nikita shot to her feet. "You're not apologizing to this woman! She's not worth it!"

“Shut up!” Killian snapped, giving her a warning look. He reached for a bottle.

Nikita lunged forward, snatched the bottle from his hand, and smashed it on the floor.

The sound was deafening.

"Don't drink it! I'm the one who hit her, it has nothing to do with yout if you've got a problem, Clifford, you deal with me. Let's see what you've get Why don't you just kill me right here and now!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, the door opened and several large bodyguards filed in, blocking the exit.

Killian's face went pale. Before he

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could speak, Nikita grabbed his arm. She looked straight at Clifford. "Well, well, Clifford. You're really something. Ignoring your own wife to treat this woman like she's some kind of treasure. You make me sick.”

Clifford just stared at her, his face a stony mask.

“Clifford, are you insane?” Killian said, his voice strained. He seemed to have finally realized that Clifford was serious, that he would throw away years of friendship for Yesenia.

Nikita knew it too. She looked at her brother's pained expression and knew he was caught between protecting her and angering Clifford. As always, he would take the burden himself.

She had no chance against these bodyguards. Nikita's fingers curled into a fist. She took a deep breath, then bent down and picked up an unbroken bottle.

"Fine," she said, her voice dripping with scorn. "You want an apology? I'll give you one. I hit her once. I'll pay her back double. That should satisfy Ms. Winslet, shouldn't it?"

Then, she raised the bottle and smashed it against her own head.