Free Web NovelChapter 161: Chapter 161 When Rage Turns to Ruin
Author’s POV
The sound of a fist slamming against the desk echoed through the office as John swept everything to the floor with a violent crash. Blue veins popped across his neck and face as rage consumed him. freewebnovel.cσ๓
His assistant stood frozen nearby, not daring to breathe wrong.
"Mr. John," she finally ventured in a small voice. "Please calm down. What’s happened?"
Her voice seemed to pull John back from the edge of his fury, if only for a split second.
"How fucking dare she?" he snarled through clenched teeth. "Tell me, what gives Sylvia Frost the balls to pull this shit?"
The thought sent another surge of fury ripping through him. In his mind, Sylvia had always been his to control. His to manipulate.
How dare this bitch just walk away and find someone else the second things got tough?
His assistant glanced down at her phone, eyeing today’s headline with a mix of shock and grudging respect. She hadn’t expected Sylvia to bounce back so quickly. What would this mean for LC Corporation now?
She wanted to state the obvious, but seeing her boss ready to blow a gasket, she kept her mouth shut. From the beginning, she had seen the writing on the wall. If she were in Sylvia’s position, she’d have done the exact same damn thing. John was clearly off his rocker.
John caught her looking at her phone and went ballistic, hurling a paperweight in her direction. "Get the hell out! Close the door behind you!"
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, hauling ass toward the exit.
Once safely outside, she rolled her eyes and muttered "complete psycho" under her breath.
Alone now, John pulled out his phone again, staring at the image of Sylvia shaking hands with his mortal enemy. Landers, that opportunistic piece of shit, always ready to move in like a vulture where he saw weakness.
John’s fist clenched until his knuckles went bone white. "Fine, Sylvia. Since you’ve thrown our partnership in the trash, I’ll forget any shred of consideration I had for you."
If she didn’t want him to win, then neither of them would walk away from this.
Before he could formulate his next move, a message from corporate headquarters appeared on his screen. There would be a meeting this week to finalize who would take over the Frost position. The writing was on the wall—this would be Landers’ victory lap.
John had known LC Corporation had been salivating over Frostline Enterprises for domestic expansion for months. And now, simply because he’d raised his prices, Sylvia had chosen that snake Landers over him.
"Fine," he growled. "If I can’t have it, nobody can!"
The message was the last straw. He grabbed his jacket and car keys, making a beeline for the door. As an afterthought, he snatched up a letter opener from his desk—the blade catching the light like a promise of violence.
His assistant watched him storm out with confused eyes. One moment he was having a complete meltdown, the next he was tearing out of there like a man possessed. She shrugged and returned to her tasks. Her boss had been acting like a lunatic for days; it wasn’t her place to question.
John’s destination was clear: Frostline Enterprises. His expression had morphed into something cold and predatory beneath the mask he’d pulled over his face. Anyone who caught a glimpse of his eyes would have seen pure malice.
As he floored the accelerator, his mind fixated on the image of Sylvia and Landers shaking hands. The betrayal burned like acid in his veins.
Had she been playing him from the start? Had she already been shopping around for his replacement?
John’s grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white with rage.
Soon enough, he arrived at Frostline Enterprises’ underground parking garage. He’d made inquiries and learned that Sylvia had driven to work today. All he needed to do was wait by her car like a spider in its web, and she would eventually appear.
After locating her vehicle, he crouched behind it, letter opener slick with sweat in his palm.
What John failed to notice was that his every move was being observed by Caesar, who had come to see Sylvia. The powerful man’s eyebrow lifted slightly as he watched John skulking around Sylvia’s car like some two-bit criminal.
A soft, deadly chuckle escaped Caesar’s lips, though the sound held no warmth. His predator’s eyes narrowed as he recognized exactly whose car John had targeted.
With calm deliberation, Caesar pulled out his phone and called Dylan. "Bring your men to the Frostline Enterprises garage. We have garbage to take out."
"Yes, Alpha," Dylan responded immediately, without missing a beat.
Even through the phone, he could feel the ice in his Alpha’s voice. Someone had clearly crossed a major line with their leader. Sucks to be them.
Meanwhile, John continued his vigil, obsessively checking his watch, waiting for Sylvia to finish work. He would make her pay—make her see what happened when you fucked with him.
All he had done was raise his prices slightly. Why couldn’t she have simply accepted it like a good little girl? Why be so goddamn stubborn?
John’s grip on the letter opener tightened until his hand cramped, silently vowing to teach Sylvia a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
As he raised his wrist to check the time once more, everything went black. A rough sack descended over his head before he could even blink.
The string of curses that exploded from his mouth was cut short as something heavy connected with his skull. His eyes rolled back, and the lights went out.
After efficiently handling the trash, Dylan approached Caesar to report. "Alpha, I’ll take out the garbage now."
"Hmm. Keep him breathing," Caesar instructed coolly.
Dylan’s eyes lit up with anticipation. "Don’t worry. It’s been way too long since we’ve dealt with such a reckless idiot. I won’t let him check out too quickly."
Caesar said nothing more, simply striding toward the elevator with long, purposeful steps.
Dylan had served him for years—he knew exactly what needed doing without a manual. It was one of the many things Caesar appreciated about his Beta.
As for John, he was dragged away like a sack of trash. Dylan didn’t bother having his men carry the unconscious man properly—instead, they just dragged his sorry ass across the concrete. He wouldn’t die from a few scrapes.
After all, having the balls to threaten someone under the Wolf King’s protection? This was only the beginning of John’s suffering.
