Billionaire Heiress's Humiliation: A Brother's Fury

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thout a meticulously calculated return. Whatever it was, Ashton's family and company were about to pay a price

weren't worth my time, my energy, or my breath. My focus was on gettin

u don't! You think you can just waltz in here, cause a scene, attack me, and then leave? Not on my watch!"

then Ashton' s. He looked smug, confident, clearly

my voice calm, almost lazily curious. "Another haircut?

e. "Don't you dare mock me, you peasant!" She lunged again, her

ng her wrist in an iron grip before her fingers even grazed my cheek. I twisted, just enough to m

shrieked, struggling against

nt, finally stirred. His face hardened. "Let her go,"

is what your 'fiancée' looks like, Ashton?" I asked, my voice laced with venom. "A woman w

's enough!" he roared, stepping forward. "You're a p

he entrance, rushed forward. They looked imposing, their

y voice low and steady, a warning. "Y

ething unusual about my quiet demeanor. But Ashton's voice cut in again, sha

pressure. I spun, using their own momentum against them, disarming the first with a swift move that left his arm twisted at an awkward angle,

through the salon. Glennie, now rubbing her wrist, stared at

n't superhuman. I fought, each movement economical, precise, but eventually, their sheer numbers overwhelme

d and triumphant. "You're nothing more than a common brawler. Exactly what a gutter rat would be. Glennie, darli

hton. I certainly will." She raised her hand, and before I could react, her nails raked across my cheek, leaving sting

tongue. The guards' grips tightened, p

laced with an undeniable promise. "Every single one of you.

brother to knit me a sweater?" She cackled, then bent down, her face close to mine, her breath smelling sickly sweet. "Look at you, pathetic.

old. No. Not a

ate plea, a raw vulnerability I hadn't shown in years. My hair, for all its current disarray

like you doesn't deserve beautiful hair, remember? Ashton said you deserve a lesson. And I'm going to g

of unease in his eyes. He didn't want a

This is just a finishing touch." She grabbed a thick section of my hair, pulling it taut. With a

to fight, to scream, to tear free. But the

, not from pain, but from sheer, utter humiliation. "I warn you again.

s. You're just a distressed woman. No one will believe you. And even if

r section of hair. "You know what? I think I'll just shave it all off. Make you bald. Let's see how

tent vibration rattled ag

e screen, her eyes widening slightly at the name displayed. "Ason Kane? Who the hell is Ason Kane?" She scoffed. "Probably some cheap

d from the phone, loud enough for everyone to hear in the suddenly

son. His voice was a

sperate. "Ason, she's hurting me! Th

now dangerously calm, cut through it. "You. The one holding m

you pathetic wannabe! And I'm teaching this little tramp a lesson because Ashton Avila, my Ashton, told me to! She's a stalker, a nobody, and she's gettin

uched my sister. You laid a hand on Ashlynn Kane. And Ashton Avila told you to?" A beat of t

ginary army?" She finished with a triumphant laugh, then, with a dramatic flourish, she slammed my phone on

us glint in her eyes. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, the grand finale!"

or to the cruelty he had permitted. The pain of the hair being pulled, the burning on my cheek, the sting of humiliation-it

p. I thought of the children I had helped, the resilience in their eyes, the courage they sho

, a

grew into a thunderous chorus of sirens, tires screeching, and the heavy thud of multiple