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Chapter_18
The beating was merciless, the strikes relentless. Preston and Yvonne struggled to defend themselves, but the group of young men was too coordinated, too fast. Each punch, each kick, seemed to strip away their dignity. The alley echoed with Preston’s furious screams, but no one was there to help.
“Who the hell are you, punks?” Preston gasped between gasps for air. “Daring to hit me, Preston Valentine, you’re looking for a death wish!”
One of the men, tall and built with an air of authority, stood over Preston, his eyes cold and unblinking. “Death wish? You’re the one who should be begging for mercy, not us,” he sneered. “You thought you could play with people’s lives, didn’t you?”
Preston’s eyes narrowed in confusion, trying to catch his breath. “You think you can scare me? Do you know who I am?” His voice cracked, but the arrogance was still there.
The man’s lips twisted into a grim smile. “You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind your wealth and name. You tried to hurt her… now it’s your turn.”
Preston’s blood ran cold. His mind raced, trying to piece it together. He had wronged Whitney, yes, but who would go so far as to send people after him like this? His heart skipped a beat as a possibility started to form. Could it be that Whitney had someone powerful protecting her?
Yvonne, beaten and barely conscious, managed to croak out, “What do you want from us?”
The man didn’t answer immediately. He looked at his group, as if gauging something, before turning back to Preston. “I’ll make it simple for you. You want to stay alive? Leave Whitney alone. Stop trying to control her life. You won’t get another chance to make things right if you don’t.”
The implication was clear. They weren’t just trying to teach him a lesson—they were making sure he understood the consequences of messing with Whitney. And as the blows continued, Preston realized that he had underestimated the power that surrounded her. No one had ever come for him like this, and now he understood just how deep Whitney’s ties ran.
“Stop! Please!” Preston finally pleaded, his pride slipping away with each bruise, each aching bone. “I’ll leave her alone! I swear!”
The man stepped back, giving Preston a moment to catch his breath. “Good choice,” he said coldly. “But if you cross her again, don’t expect mercy next time.”
With that, he signaled to the others. The group left as swiftly as they had come, leaving Preston and Yvonne battered and bruised in the alley, their world shaken to its core. They were no longer the ones in control.
Back at the hotel, Whitney sat by her window, staring into the night. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the day, the confrontation with Roselyn, the pain from the bruises on her back, and the unexpected turn of events. Yet, despite everything, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bigger was at play.
The door to her room opened softly, and the man entered. Whitney glanced at him, her eyes still full of questions, but also an unspoken gratitude.
“You handled it,” she said quietly, a hint of surprise in her voice.
He didn’t answer right away, just looked at her with those piercing eyes. “Don’t get involved with people like them. They don’t know who they’re messing with.”
Whitney couldn’t help but let out a small, dry laugh. “I think I’m starting to get the picture.”
His gaze softened for a moment, and then he added, “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.”
As he left the room, Whitney’s thoughts swirled, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. There was more to this man than she realized, and she was only beginning to understand the forces at play in her life.
Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, seeing a message from Tiana.
[Tiana: “How’s the thug situation? You good?”]
Whitney smiled slightly, texting back:
[Whitney: “I’m fine. But I think I’m starting to understand who’s really behind all of this.”]
Her fingers hovered over the screen, then she typed out one last line.
[Whitney: “This is only the beginning.”]
