Chapter 159 Dragon Lady

**Ethan's POV**

Never thought a middle-of-the-night phone call would make my heart race this way. Blood rushing. Pulse pounding. All from a few words.

Robert Sterling called about Amanda having trouble. His voice unusually tense. "Ethan, Amanda needs help. She won't admit it, but she's in over her head." Dropped everything at Blackwood Group immediately. Board meeting? Canceled. Merger documents? Left unsigned.

Couldn't understand my own reaction—this uncontrollable worry about her safety burned through me. The thought of her facing problems alone, vulnerable, made staying in New York impossible.

After handling urgent company matters with rushed instructions to Mike, I flew overnight, pacing the private jet cabin for hours. Reached this mediocre hotel at 3 AM, the lobby depressingly empty except for a half-asleep receptionist who barely glanced up.

Several hours later, standing at the elevator, I witnessed an absurd scene: a fat middle-aged woman with two thugs shouting outside Amanda's door. Her face contorted with rage, fists pounding the door. Rarely felt such anger flood through me. How dare she treat Amanda this way? Stepped forward and blocked the self-proclaimed Mrs. King, my body moving before my brain could process what I was doing.

"Who do you think you are? How dare you stop me?" she demanded, eyes filled with venom and contempt. Breath stinking of alcohol and cigarettes.

Stared at her coldly, grip firm on her wrist. This woman had no idea who she was dealing with—her ignorance both amusing and infuriating.

When she struggled to break free, released her with disgust, wiping my hand with a tissue. The fabric rough against my skin as I scrubbed away her touch.

Then she said something that nearly froze my blood: "I understand now! You took money from my husband to keep this pretty boy!"

Her words echoed in the hallway, making other doors crack open with curious onlookers.

Pretty boy? Almost laughed. Nobody at Blackwood Group would dare speak to me this way, not even board members with decades of experience.

This woman clearly had a death wish. Anger bubbled up from deep inside, face instantly darkening.

Fury grew when Amanda explained Nicholas King tried to pressure her into sex, cornering her in an elevator, touching her arm, suggesting they "discuss matters privately." What a despicable man, attempting to take advantage of her?

Each detail she shared made my fists clench tighter. I wanted to teach Nicholas King a lesson immediately. Wanted to hunt him down and make him regret ever looking at her.

"Bullshit! I've caught so many cheaters, and they all claim innocence!" Mrs. King continued yelling, spittle flying from her mouth, showing no remorse. Her two bodyguards shifting uncomfortably, obviously wishing they were elsewhere.

Cold laughter escaped me, voice dripping mockery: "Money? A million dollars? Didn't realize Sarah Hope was living so poorly." The sarcasm felt good, a weapon sharper than any blade.

When Stephanie Hall revealed my identity, saying "This is Ethan Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Group," Mrs. King's expression became almost comical. Color drained from her face. Eyes bulging. She dropped to her knees with a thud that echoed down the hallway, which only disgusted me more.

So this is how differently she treats "nobodies" versus "somebodies"? Her sudden groveling more offensive than her earlier aggression.

"You know exactly how many terrible things Nicholas King has done," said coldly, looking down at her trembling form. "The police in Europe once received a rape case involving Nicholas King, but King Group paid to make it disappear." The words tasted bitter on my tongue, knowing such injustice happened regularly.

Watched her tremble without any sympathy, mascara running down her cheeks with her tears. Her behavior—knowing about but helping her husband oppress innocent women—filled me with deep disgust. Women like her enabled predators, making them just as guilty.

"You think a simple apology makes everything okay?" demanded, eyes cold as winter. "Nicholas King's attempted rape, your deliberate harm to others—none of this will be overlooked." Every syllable deliberate, a promise of consequences to come.

Just then, a fat man came running up, panting heavily—Nicholas King. Sweat staining his shirt, belly jiggling with each step. Looking at his obese figure and fawning expression deepened my disgust. This was the man who tried to hurt Amanda? He wasn't worthy to breathe the same air as her.

When Nicholas King slapped his wife and started blaming her for the King family's troubles, nearly laughed at the pathetic display. "You stupid woman! Everything was going smoothly until you ruined it!" Was this their true nature? Shifting blame, completely without principles or dignity.

"Mr. Blackwood, my wife truly didn't recognize who you were. Please forgive her mistake and be generous," Nicholas King begged pathetically, hands clasped together, body bending in an awkward bow.

Smiled coldly, anger intensifying with each second: "Nicholas King, you had your chance but didn't value it. I heard about the previous incidents from Robert. Sterling Group might let you off, but I won't."

Raised my chin, eyes turning ruthless, enjoying the way he flinched under my gaze. "Since you actually did these things, expect court summons soon."

Felt no pity watching Nicholas King's breakdown, his face crumpling like paper. Scum like him deserved legal punishment and much worse. When he started kicking and punching Mrs. King, her screams echoing in the hallway, watched the scene silently, feeling only coldness.

Their mutual abuse and insults only confirmed they deserved this ending. Other hotel guests appeared in doorways, phones recording the spectacle.

When Mrs. King announced divorce plans between sobs, almost wanted to applaud the melodrama. "I'm done with you! Twenty years wasted on trash like you!" This ugly couple finally reached their end, destroying each other without any help needed from me.

Back in Amanda's room, exhaustion washed over me like a tidal wave. The overnight journey and anger had drained every ounce of energy.

Took the water she offered, fingers brushing momentarily, eyes fixed on her face: "What? You didn't want me to come?" The question softer than intended.

"No, it's just that this place is four or five hours from your company. You look tired." Her concerned expression warmed something inside me, melting a corner of ice I didn't know existed.

Rubbed my tired eyes, wondering why I'd rushed here so urgently. Jumped on a plane the moment I heard she might be in trouble. Never cared for anyone this way before.

"Got here at 3 AM. Was going to rest but heard noise downstairs." Kept it casual, hiding my worry. Her concern for my wellbeing felt wrong—she was the one needing protection.

"Not tired," I lied, sipping water. My head pounded, but I feared leaving her alone.

In the silence, I watched her. "Any problems here?" I asked, trying to sound detached.

"No. I can handle whatever comes up." Her chin lifted stubbornly.

This proud woman, always hiding weakness. As exhaustion overtook me, I wondered: Why did I care so much? Why drop everything for her? The feeling was strange but somehow right.