The Supreme Son in Law

Chapter 8

Heavy rain beat against the city streets.

Clara had spent five hours on the phone. She had called every medical packaging business in the province.

Every single call ended with the exact same words: We cannot help you, President Clara. You have to talk to Tycoon Lewis.

She had less than forty-eight hours left. If the vials did not arrive, the factory would fail inspection. She would lose the contract.

She had no choice.

Clara took the elevator up to the fourth floor of the Imperial Dragon Club.

She held her leather folder tightly against her chest. Her hands were shaking with cold.

A large bodyguard opened the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.

The VIP room smelled of cheap whiskey and cigar smoke.

Derek Sterling was sitting on a red leather couch. He held a glass of liquor in his left hand. His right wrist was wrapped in a thick white brace.

Across from Derek sat Tycoon Lewis.

Lewis was a massive, fat man in an open silk shirt. He had greasy hair, three thick gold chains around his neck, and a long scar running down his cheek.

When Clara stepped into the room, Lewis stopped drinking.

His small, ugly eyes ran slowly over her body. They moved over her heels, up her legs, and straight to her face. A dirty smile spread across his mouth.

"Derek," Lewis said, licking his lips. "You told me your cousin was a scientist. You didn't tell me she was this beautiful."

Clara felt sick to her stomach. She forced herself to stand tall.

She walked forward and placed a certified bank check on the glass table.

"Mr. Lewis, I am here about the vials for Sterling Bio-Pharma," Clara said. Her voice was firm. "Our trucks were stopped this morning. I added a twenty percent bonus for fast delivery. We need sixty thousand sterile vials at our factory by sunrise."

Lewis looked down at the check. He did not read the numbers.

He took a gold lighter from his pocket and clicked the flame.

He touched the fire to the paper.

The check caught fire. Lewis dropped the burning paper into his glass of whiskey then It turned into black ash.

"Derek," Lewis said, his eyes glued to Clara's chest. "Get the hell out."

Derek blinked. "Boss, what about what we discussed just now?"

"I said get out," Lewis growled. "I am going to take my payment in private."

Derek looked at Clara.

He saw the raw panic on his cousin's face. He knew exactly what Lewis was going to do to her in this room.

Derek didn't care. He stood up, dusted himself, and walked out the door.

He pulled the heavy door shut behind him as he gave her one last look.

CLICK.

The deadbolt locked from the outside.

Clara turned around fast. She grabbed the metal door handle and pulled with all her strength.

It did not move.

"Looking for an exit, sweetheart?" Lewis's voice purred from behind her.

Clara turned her back against the locked door.

Lewis pulled his silk shirt over his head and threw it onto the floor. His huge, hairy belly hung over his belt. He unbuckled his pants and let them drop to the rug.

"Sixty thousand vials cost a lot of money," Lewis sneered, stepping toward her. His breath smelled of rotten liquor. "Spend the night with me, President Clara. Let me have some fun, and my trucks will drive to your plant A-S-A-P"

"Don't you dare touch me!" Clara screamed.

Lewis lunged forward, reaching for her waist.

Clara swung her heavy leather bag with all her strength.

CRACK!

The hard metal corner of the bag smashed straight across the bridge of Lewis's nose.

The skin split wide open. Blood poured down over his mouth and into his stubble.

Lewis stopped. His eyes went red with pure rage.

"You little b***h," Lewis spat.

He lunged and grabbed Clara by her hair, yanking her violently off her feet.

Clara screamed as he threw her across the room.

Her body slammed hard against the heavy glass coffee table. The thick glass shattered into sharp pieces beneath her back. The glass cut through her jacket and sliced into her skin.

Before she could roll away, Lewis climbed on top of her.

His heavy, sweating weight pinned her down completely against the sharp shards.

"Get off me! Help!" Clara screamed, scratching wildly at his eyes.

Lewis roared in anger. He pulled his fist back and punched her hard across the jaw.

SMACK!

Clara's head snapped to the side against the carpet. Her vision went black for two seconds. Blood filled her mouth and ran down her chin.

Lewis grabbed the collar of her jacket and ripped it down the middle.

Then he grabbed her white blouse and tore it open.

Buttons flew across the floor.

Clara wept, spitting blood, frantically trying to cover her bare chest with her hands.

Lewis grabbed both of her wrists in one giant, hairy fist. He pinned her arms high above her head against the broken glass.

His heavy, naked body pressed down against her skin. He shoved his sweating face into her neck, panting like an animal, while his free hand reached roughly down between her thighs.

"Nobody can hear you in this room, b***h!" Lewis laughed, drooling onto her skin. "Nobody is coming to save you!"

Clara could not move. She could not breathe.

Glass was cutting into her back. Tears and blood ran down her cheeks, soaking into her hair.

She stared up at the dark ceiling in total despair.

"Ethan..." Clara whispered through her swollen lips. "Ethan..."

BOOM!

The heavy wooden door blew completely off its steel hinges.

The solid wood slab flew twenty feet across the room, slammed into the back wall, and shattered in half.

Dust and wood splinters filled the air.

Lewis jumped back in pure shock, falling off the broken table. He scrambled across the rug, frantically trying to pull up his trousers.

Through the white plaster dust, a man stepped inside.

Ethan Vance walked over the broken doorframe.

Rain dripped from his dark jacket onto the carpet.

His knuckles were split open, dripping with the fresh blood of the six bodyguards lying broken in the hallway outside.

Ethan stopped in the center of the room.

His face was completely blank.

Slowly, his eyes moved across the floor.

He looked down and saw the shattered glass table.

He saw Clara curled into a tight ball on the sharp shards.

He saw her torn jacket. Her ripped blouse. Her exposed skin covered in red cuts and purple bruises.

He saw the pool of blood under her head, and her shaking hands trying to cover her body.

Then, Ethan’s eyes shifted slowly to Lewis.

Lewis was backed against the sofa, half-naked, sweating, with Clara's blood smeared across his knuckles.

The room went dead silent.

The only sounds left were the rain hitting the windows and Clara’s broken, choking sobs.

Ethan did not yell. He did not rush forward.

He reached inside his wet jacket.

His fingers came out holding a pair of black leather gloves.

Without breaking eye contact with Lewis, Ethan raised the first glove to his right hand.

He slid his fingers inside.

Slowly.

He pressed the leather down, smoothing it over each knuckle, one finger at a time.

Then he pulled the black strap tight around his wrist.

SNAP.