Chapter 699
The moment those harsh words left his lips, two massive bodyguards burst into the room and grabbed Besty, lifting her off the floor like she was nothing more than a rag doll.
“Terrence! Please, no! Don’t do this to me! Terrence, please!” Besty wailed and fought against their iron grip, but she was completely powerless against their strength.
Terrence’s piercing blue eyes filled with pure disgust as he watched her pathetic struggle. “Worthless piece of shit,” he muttered with ice-cold contempt, then calmly returned to his desk as if nothing had happened. Besty was so weak she couldn’t even fight off two bodyguards, which only proved she couldn’t hold a candle to Christina.
His face remained completely emotionless as he barked orders to his assistant. “I want every piece of information you can find on that female boxing champion, and I want it in three minutes.”
Within minutes, Terrence had a complete file on Christina and everyone connected to her life spread out before him. Two photographs sat on his desk, and as he studied them, his blue eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, a flash of deadly intent burning in their depths.
Two photos rested on the desk, showing Dylan and Brendon. The investigation revealed that Brendon was Christina’s former husband.
Terrence’s face hardened as he grabbed a red marker and forcefully drew a bright red “X” over Brendon’s face. Still, this did little to ease the rage boiling inside him. Brendon had actually kept Christina by his side for so many years! How infuriating. That useless man had no right to marry someone like her.
Fuming with anger, Terrence ripped the photo into pieces, tossed it to the floor, and stomped on it, grinding it under his heel. A flash of fury crossed his eyes, as if he wished to crush Brendon underfoot. Brendon didn’t deserve Christina, and that was why fate had separated them, making him her ex-husband.
Terrence’s gaze, tinged with danger, moved to Dylan’s photo. He stared into Dylan’s cold, indifferent eyes, his own blue eyes burning with even more anger, radiating a chilling threat.
The fury emanating from Terrence felt almost tangible. Suddenly, he picked up a dagger and drove it forcefully into Dylan’s face in the photo.
The impact was so strong that the dagger pierced through the table, splitting the photo in half.
Still not satisfied, Terrence pulled out the dagger and stabbed it again into the spot where Dylan’s heart was. His face twisted with rage, eyes fierce and dangerous, silently screaming, “Go to hell!”
He continued stabbing Dylan’s photo until it was reduced to shreds, then finally threw the pieces into the trash bin. He would never allow any man to take the woman he desired—especially not Dylan. That man needed to be dealt with.
With a poker face, Terrence leaned back in his chair, tilting it slightly as he rested his legs casually on the desk. He flicked open a lighter, lit a cigar, and took a slow puff.
As he exhaled a cloud of smoke, his cold, possessive eyes swept across the room. The memories of his earlier confrontation with Christina replayed in his mind—her fierce energy in the ring, the way she moved like she owned it.
As those images flashed before him, Christina’s unique fragrance seemed to linger in the air. He closed his eyes for a moment, a slow, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “You’re mine,” he murmured under his breath, the words tasting sweet on his tongue.