The Quinn Retribution

Chapter 4

"Hold things together. I'm on my way." Eleanor Sterling ended the call and immediately barked at Quinn Thorne without so much as a glance in his direction. "Quinn, bring the car around. Take me to Olivia's company. Now."

"What happened to Olivia?" Spencer Vance picked himself up off the ground, shot Quinn a brief, venomous look, then rearranged his features into an expression of deep concern.

"I'm not sure. Something's gone wrong over there." Eleanor noticed Quinn hadn't moved and raised her voice to a near-shout. "Are you deaf? Move!"

Quinn said nothing, his expression as unreadable as ever. He simply turned and walked out of the main hall of estate 3, crossing the manicured courtyard to fetch the car.

The three of them followed him outside. Spencer fell into step beside Eleanor, his tone smooth and reassuring. "Don't worry. I have connections with some very influential people in this city. If someone is causing trouble at Olivia's company, I'll make sure they regret it."

The tension in Eleanor's shoulders eased slightly at his words. By then, Quinn had already pulled the car up in front of them, engine idling.

Sterling Cosmetics was located in the bustling commercial heart of the city, inside Grandview Galleria. After more than half an hour of navigating midday traffic, the four of them arrived at the company's entrance.

A crowd had already gathered outside, necks craning as people jostled for a better look through the glass doors. From inside the lobby, a woman's furious voice echoed outward in sharp, relentless bursts.

"Don't you dare try to explain this away! Look at my face!" The woman jabbed a trembling hand toward her own reflection in the glass counter. "Ever since I used your product, this is what happened to me! You people are nothing but fraudsters selling poison in a bottle!"

She looked to be in her early forties, dressed in loose casual clothes. Her face, which might have once been attractive, was now covered in angry, inflamed welts and clusters of painful-looking acne that spread from her cheeks down to her jawline.

Olivia Sterling stood before her in a crisp white blouse and pencil skirt, visibly struggling to maintain her composure. "Ma'am, the product you purchased is an imported line. It's been through rigorous quality control, and there's never been a single complaint. We can have it tested at the Crestport Testing Bureau if you'd like to verify..."

"Tested? The evidence is right here on my face!" The woman's voice pitched higher, her neck flushing red as she jabbed a finger at her own ruined skin. "If you don't fix what you've done to me, I will shut this company down and make sure you rot in a prison cell!"

"Please, let's at least go to a hospital first and have a dermatologist examine this." Olivia kept her voice level, though her hands were clenched tight at her sides. The woman was holding one of their branded products, and her clothing and bearing suggested she wasn't the type to stage a shakedown. That made it far harder to push back.

It was at that moment Eleanor and the others pushed their way through the crowd.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" Olivia's eyes widened in surprise.

"Something like this happens and you expect me to stay home?" Eleanor took one look at the woman's ravaged face and felt her stomach drop. This was not going to be simple.

Olivia gave a quick summary. The woman had purchased a bottle of imported hydrating cream from the store yesterday. This morning, after applying it, her face had erupted in this violent reaction, and she'd come straight back demanding answers. The product had an excellent track record domestically, and nothing like this had ever been reported before.

Eleanor stepped forward, adopting her most diplomatic tone. "Ma'am, please try to calm down. What's done is done, and the most important thing now is finding a solution. Wouldn't you agree?"

The woman let out a cold, humorless laugh. "A solution? Fine. Since it's your daughter's product that did this to my face, here's what I want: s***h her face so she looks just like me, then pay me thirty million dollars in compensation. Do that, and I'll let this go."

"Thirty million?" Eleanor inhaled sharply, the color draining from her face. The demand was absurd, enough to bankrupt the entire company twice over.

Spencer stepped forward, squaring his shoulders with practiced confidence. "Ma'am, let's be reasonable here. This product wasn't sold exclusively to you. Plenty of other customers have used it without a single issue. The fact that you're the only one affected suggests the problem isn't the product itself."

The woman's gaze snapped to him like a blade. "So you're saying I did this to myself? That I'm here to shake you down?"

Spencer retreated two steps involuntarily, then forced himself to stand firm. "That's not what I meant. Look, I personally know the director of Eden Plastic Surgery Clinic. Come with me to the hospital, and I guarantee your face will be restored to exactly how it was."

"You're suggesting I get plastic surgery?" The woman's eyes went wide with fury, and she hurled the bottle of hydrating cream directly at Spencer's chest. "Get out of my sight!"

"Hey! You can't just assault people!" Spencer clutched where the bottle had struck him, his own temper flaring. "Keep this up and I'll call the police!"

"The police?" The woman threw her head back and laughed as if she'd just heard the funniest joke of her life. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Who are you, then?" Spencer looked her up and down, trying to project confidence he clearly didn't feel.

"The wealthiest man in Crestport is my brother."

Spencer's mouth fell open, and whatever retort had been forming behind his teeth died instantly.

Eleanor and Olivia froze as well. Of all people to provoke, they had somehow managed to cross paths with the sister of Bastian Ashford himself. The realization settled over the room like a physical weight, pressing down on everyone's shoulders.

Then, into the suffocating silence, a man's voice cut through clearly and calmly.

"Ma'am, if I can make the acne on your face disappear completely, would you be willing to consider the matter settled?"

Every head in the lobby turned toward the source, wanting to see who had the audacity to make such a bold claim.

Olivia looked too, and her expression shifted to one of genuine shock. Not because Quinn had stepped forward to involve himself, but because he had spoken at all. For three years, her husband had been mute, a silent presence drifting through her household like a ghost. And now, without warning, words were coming out of his mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Before she could even process what was happening, Eleanor's sharp voice cracked across the room. "Quinn, shut your mouth! This has nothing to do with you!"

The last thing Eleanor needed was her useless son-in-law making an already disastrous situation worse.

Spencer seized the opening instantly, his lip curling into a sneer. "Well, well. I had no idea you were a skincare expert on top of everything else. Tell us, where exactly does a freeloading loser who's never held a job learn that kind of skill?"

"Spencer!" Eleanor shot him a look. Even she thought the timing was poor.

Chloe Sterling waved a dismissive hand at Quinn, not even bothering to hide her irritation. "Quinn, just go stand somewhere out of the way. The adults are handling this. Stop butting in."

Quinn ignored all of them as though their words were nothing more than wind passing through an open window. He walked directly up to the woman and met her eyes steadily. "What's happening to your face, I genuinely know how to fix. Trust me."

Something in those calm, unwavering eyes gave the woman pause. Her fury didn't vanish, but it wavered, a c***k forming in the wall of rage she'd built. After all, money meant nothing to her, and compensation was irrelevant. Her face was what mattered, and if there was even the slightest chance this stranger was telling the truth, she had nothing to lose by listening.

Olivia rushed forward and grabbed his arm, her voice low and tight with a commanding edge. "Quinn, stop. Don't do anything reckless. I'll handle my own problems."

She wasn't grateful for his intervention. She knew exactly what Quinn Thorne was capable of, and the answer, as far as she'd seen over three years of marriage, was absolutely nothing.

The murmuring among the gathered onlookers grew louder, rippling through the crowd like a current.

"That guy's got it made, huh? Living off the boss of a cosmetics company. Must be nice."

"Didn't he just say he could fix her face? Think he actually can, or is he bluffing?"

"Please. If he had that kind of talent, he wouldn't be a kept man mooching off his wife."

"Exactly. He's just trying to save face where he has none to save."

The whispers only made the woman's patience wear thinner. Her voice rose again, sharp and final, cutting through the noise like a guillotine.

"I don't care about your pathetic family drama. You have two choices." She held up two fingers, her gaze cold and absolute. "Either my face goes back to the way it was, or you pay me thirty million in damages and s***h this woman's face." She pointed directly at Olivia, her finger steady and merciless. "If neither happens, then it's the same promise as before: your company goes bankrupt, and you rot in a prison cell."