Frankie approached Nathan in three quick strides, sizing him up with disdain. He grunted coldly, “Listen, Nathan. Sienna wants to break up, and that’s final. Threatening her with a child is pathetic, embarrassing for a man. I’ll take responsibility for the child, so don’t worry. What era do you live in? You think you’re some domineering CEO, able to control a woman just because she’s pregnant?”
Nathan, sitting on the sofa, visibly darkened with each word. Yvette glanced up from her phone, noticing his barely contained rage. Her cold demeanor and the gentle tapping of her slender fingers on the armrest deflated him. He remained still, fists clenched tight.
He wanted to kill Frankie, but Yvette’s presence held him back. He wouldn’t risk it; he’d seen someone forcibly removed in her presence before, a memory that starkly illustrated her ruthlessness. She fiercely protected her own, making Nathan feel utterly insignificant.
Frankie, pleased by Nathan’s impotent fury, saw the devious man cowed by Yvette's warning glance. Feeling empowered by her presence, he relished the opportunity to bully Nathan, leveraging Yvette’s strength.
Ignoring Frankie’s taunts, Nathan focused on Sienna, pleading, “Sienna, please come home with me. We need to talk.”
Sienna, seeing this humbled version of Nathan—a stark contrast to the paranoid figure of the previous day—found it too late. The past was the past, and she didn't want to return. She shook her head, her expression immovable, pushing Nathan's patience to its limit.
Ignoring Yvette, who remained seated, he reached for Sienna's hand. Before he could touch her, a bullet struck his wrist. Nathan gritted his teeth, eyes wide as he turned to Yvette, understanding the shot as a warning.
Sienna gasped, seeing the elegant silver pistol and the wound. Frankie was equally startled. He thought, “Wow, Yvette is ruthless. Nathan’s the Goodman heir, and she shoots him! That was an impressive shot.”
Blood seeped onto the expensive carpet, staining it crimson. Nathan’s pale face appeared pitiful, yet the others ignored him. His hope that humility would soften Sienna vanished; their relationship was truly over.
He stepped back, saying, “Sienna, I hope you’ll consider what I’ve said. I won’t give up on you.” Turning to leave, he leaned towards Yvette, whispering, “After all these years, you’re still so ruthless. Braydon knows about your return to Mysonna.”
Yvette dismissed him with cold disdain. Nathan felt the weight of her gaze, his anger intensifying the pain in his wrist. He thought, ‘Damn it! Nobody’s as arrogant as Yvette.’
Her smile sent a chill down his spine. In a low, hoarse voice, she threatened, “If you don’t want anyone to inherit the Goodman family’s secret business, I won’t mind personally helping your family deal with Braydon.”
Nathan, determined not to show weakness, confronted her. “Ms. Zeller, you’re ruthless. Braydon still has the scar on his face. You killed him five years ago. But he’s different now. He controls the Goodman underworld, so I expect him soon.”
Yvette's indifference fueled his frustration. He couldn't delay; with her marksmanship, he risked losing his arm.
Just as he reached the door, Frankie called, “Hey, this carpet’s worth at least a million dollars. Pay up.”
The sarcasm stung. Nathan, his wrist throbbing, wrote a check for 1.5 million dollars, tossed it down, and left without looking back.
The three remaining watched him go in silence: Yvette expressionless, Sienna relieved, and Frankie elated.
Outside, Nathan instructed his driver to rush him to the Goodman family hospital. The driver, seeing his injury, sped towards the hospital, thinking, ‘Who dared lay a hand on Mr. Goodman? Mysonna has a powerful new player.’
As Nathan’s car sped down the mountain, Emmett and Chris, returning from errands, passed him. Seeing the Goodman family car heading towards the land Mr. Chavez purchased, Emmett frowned, suspecting the Goodman family had gone to the villa. He shared his concerns with Chris, prompting them to speed up.