Chapter 92 Claimed

A red-haired man had been standing nearby for a while. Elsie had noticed him the moment she whispered in Paul’s ear—he was staring straight at her. His gaze was intense, invasive, and clearly didn't care that she had a boyfriend. Elsie was secretly thrilled. He must be someone powerful, she thought smugly. And he’s into me.

She broke eye contact and pushed Paul into a room, a smile tugging at her lips. She locked the door behind them.

An hour later, Elsie stepped out, legs pressed together, making her way quietly into a shadowed stairwell while no one was watching.

Back in the hospital room, Wyatt had just set Yunice down on the bed. She looked past his shoulder, saw Morgan leaving, and finally loosened her grip around Wyatt’s neck.

“Thank you.” Her voice was distant, cold. Nothing like the woman who’d been clinging to him just seconds ago.

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed, seeing through her immediately. “Using me again?”

Yunice didn’t answer. She didn’t explain either. She’d done it before, and she wasn’t afraid of being caught again. Ever since the day she stepped out from behind him, pretending to be some docile little girl in front of Wyatt, Owen, and Paul, she’d stopped playing that role. Even the fact that he showed up at the Saunders family home to take her away—that had been part of her plan. She had locked herself in her room and called Joe in advance, hoping Wyatt would refuse the marriage himself. She hadn’t expected him to show up and drag her out. Now, with Wyatt silently watching her, she had no idea if he was plotting to get back at her.

The room fell into silence—until her phone rang. She reached for the old device Elsie had given her. Seeing Wyatt didn’t stop her, she hesitated before answering.

“Ms. Saunders, may I have the honor of buying you a meal?” It was Quinton.

Yunice glanced up at Wyatt. She hadn’t turned on speaker, but the room was so quiet, there was no way he didn’t hear Quinton’s voice. She’d been waiting for this call. Quinton was another dance, another card she could play.

Before she could finish, her hand was suddenly empty. Wyatt flicked her phone out of her hand with one swift motion. It spun midair and landed cleanly in his palm. He looked her in the eyes, then said into the phone, “She’s not available.”

On the other end, Quinton sounded confused. “And you are?”

Wyatt’s gaze locked with Yunice’s, heavy with possessiveness. “I’m her man.”

Yunice’s eyes widened. She snatched the phone back and ended the call in a panic.

“Mr. Cooper, you—” She bit her lip, eyes full of feigned fear.

Wyatt’s face was stony. “What’s wrong? Mad I ruined your little opportunity?”

He could see right through her. She wanted a safety net—Quinton was just another option she was trying to secure.

Wyatt’s voice turned sharp. “That widower Quinton—what can he offer you that I can’t?”

Yunice didn’t respond. But Wyatt wasn’t finished.

“Our marriage is already a done deal. You think I’ll let my woman go work for someone else?”

Yunice looked shocked. “So you didn’t talk Mr. Jackson out of it?”

Wyatt answered flatly, “The whole city will know about our engagement within two days.”

She lowered her head, biting her lip. “I’m sorry. I’ll only embarrass you.”

Wyatt set his cane down and sat lazily by her bedside. He scoffed, “Anyone who dares laugh—I’ll rip out their tongue and see if they’re still smiling.”

Yunice stiffened, fingers curling tight in the sheets. Wyatt had helped her several times recently—so much so that she’d nearly forgotten who he really was: cold, violent, dangerous. Now it was all coming back. His warning wasn’t just about others. It was meant for her too. Anyone who looked down on him would pay. Anyone who tried to play him… wouldn’t be spared either. And if the day came that he wanted payback—she’d be next.

As if sensing her fear, Wyatt lifted a hand to her cheek, his thumb slowly brushing the edge of her ear.

“Don’t be scared,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

But the gentler his voice, the tighter Yunice’s back drew. She looked at him, speechless, her eyes flickering. Wyatt pulled his hand away, picked up his cane, and stood again. He didn’t go far—just stood a few feet from the bed, hands resting atop the cane.

“I don’t believe in marriage,” he said, tone cool. “But since we’re in this together now, from here on out… you work for me.”

Chapter 93 The Wrong Target