Chapter 20
From William's Perspective:
"Let me go! Who sent you? My dad or Matthew?" I was squeezed in the back seat with two men in black. The cramped space, with a fat guy on each side, made it impossible to sit up straight. I could only curl up like a shrimp.
I swear, this was the most humiliating moment of my entire life!
I glared at everyone in the car, but they all stood there like posts, not even a flicker of expression on their faces.
Their hands were covered in calluses, rough and worn. Whether in strength or build, they looked like they came straight from the military.
Remembering that Matthew loved hiring ex-military guys as bodyguards, the image of him draping his jacket over Layla suddenly flashed through my mind, and a wave of anger surged up inside me.
I was a man—I knew exactly what kind of look a man gave a woman he liked.
I'd bet anything that Matthew's feelings for Layla weren't pure!
The thought that my own wife was being eyed by my older brother made my anger burn even hotter, like a ball of fire was stuck in my chest.
"How much is Matthew paying you? I'll double it!" I struggled to push the men on either side away, fumbling with my bound hands to pull out my checkbook and pen from inside my jacket. "Name your price. I'll write it now, just let me go."
Though I was furious about Matthew having shameful feelings for my wife, I was even more afraid of facing my father.
Being dragged back now meant I wouldn't just lose my inheritance rights.
Most likely, I'd lose my freedom completely—my dad would lock me up and "educate" me.
The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. I just wanted to escape as quickly as possible.
But these guys didn't respond at all. They didn't even glance at me.
The man on my right kept his eyes straight ahead, yet his hands precisely snatched the checkbook and pen from my grip—as if he had eyes in the back of his head—and stuffed them back into my jacket pocket.
Then he and the guy on my left simultaneously pressed in, using their solid arms to pin me firmly between them.
This time, I couldn't move at all. Like the filling in a sandwich cookie, I was squashed flat between them.
The whole ride was silent. I screamed myself hoarse, threatened, ordered, even tried to bribe them, but nothing would make these men let me go.
Watching the streets become more and more familiar as the sky grew lighter, I was exhausted and finally gave up resisting.
The car slowly pulled into the courtyard. The door opened, and fresh air hit my face.
"Mr. William Brown, my apologies. This is Mr. Quinton Brown's order." Rhys stood in front of the car, bowing politely to me. "Mr. William Brown, Mr. Quinton Brown is waiting for you in the study."
I stretched my sore limbs and walked forward a few steps. Still unwilling to accept this, I turned around and pointed at those big bodyguards, asking Rhys, "Are they working for my brother or my dad?"
"They're bodyguards Mr. Matthew Brown specifically recruited for Mr. Quinton Brown, so naturally they answer to Mr. Quinton Brown."
I frowned. "How did my dad know where I was?"
The video call between Matthew and Quinton had only lasted a few minutes. How could my dad have arranged for bodyguards to intercept me so quickly?
No matter how I looked at it, I'd been set up, and the person behind it was one hundred percent Matthew!
I really couldn't understand how Matthew, who used to be so upright and dignified, could develop improper feelings for my wife.
Was he deliberately targeting me, or like my mother said, had Matthew always been hostile toward me, constantly looking for ways to kick me out of my position as the Brown family heir?
Before, no matter what my mother said, I never believed Matthew would do this to me.
But thinking about it now, I realized too many things were just too coincidental. It was hard to believe someone wasn't scheming against me behind the scenes.
"Mr. William Brown, I'm not sure either. You should go to the study and ask Mr. Quinton Brown yourself."
I was lost in thought when Rhys's voice suddenly interrupted me.
He made a "please" gesture, urging me to go upstairs quickly.
Looking at the open door, I suddenly felt like it was a monster's gaping mouth, ready to swallow me whole.
I temporarily set aside my suspicions about Matthew and walked toward the study with heavy, cautious steps, my brain racing to find an excuse to get out of this crisis.
The study door wasn't closed. The moment I appeared, my father's commanding voice boomed out like thunder. "Get in here and kneel down!"
I couldn't help but shudder, walking into the study trembling.
Not wanting others to see me in this sorry state, I closed the study door before resignedly kneeling on the floor.
A tough cane suddenly lashed across my back, sending piercing pain throughout my body.
But I could only clench my fists and grit my teeth to endure it. If I screamed and dodged like a woman, I'd only get beaten even worse.
This was a lesson I'd learned since childhood, based on my understanding of my father.
Two more lashes fell. Neither of us spoke. The only sound in the room was the crack of the whip.
I could already feel sticky liquid flowing down my back, but I didn't dare make a sound. I kept my head down and endured until the tenth strike ended, and my father finally put down the whip.
"Do you know what you did wrong?"
My father's stern roar came from above. I watched cold sweat drip onto the floor, my voice hoarse. "Dad, I don't know what my brother told you, but Layla and I are husband and wife. What's wrong with how I treated her?"
"Dad, why are you only accusing me without asking why Matthew was there? Am I really that untrustworthy in your eyes?" I looked up at my father with grievance, certain that Matthew had been badmouthing me behind my back.
But hearing this, my father became even more furious. He pulled out the leather whip and struck me again. "You bastard! How dare you slander Matthew! You've really got some nerve! You dragged that mistress to the hospital for an abortion—don't tell me Matthew forced you to do that too?"
"How did I end up with a son like you! You do things but won't own up to them. Look at yourself—where's the man in you! Cheating first, then forcing your mistress to get an abortion, and at night breaking into your wife's room to force yourself on her—is any of this something a human being does?"
My father's face flushed red with rage as he whipped me several more times.
The bone-deep pain made me collapse on the floor, and only then did I realize—my father wasn't having me dragged back because of Matthew's video call, but because he found out about me forcing Olivia to get an abortion.
In that instant, my head cleared, and a reasonable excuse popped into my mind.