Chapter 5

Marisol refused to make a scene over this trash in public. Since she had secured photos, she pulled Alinta toward their parked car across the street. But they barely stepped out of the bar before being blocked.

A stern-faced young man in a sharply tailored black suit stood before them—tall, broad-shouldered, and utterly immovable. Marisol recognized him instantly.

He was Zayne Burnett, Lucian's personal assistant. Raised by Muller Group since childhood, Zayne had been selected in high school to serve directly under Lucian. The man was fanatically loyal and Lucian's most trusted weapon.

He showed no courtesy to anyone, followed only Lucian's orders, and was as cold as they came.

Marisol had always disliked him.

His approach now, combined with Lucian's earlier expression, promised nothing good. Her grip tightened around her phone.

"Mrs. Muller." Zayne extended his hand with zero expression and said in a flat voice, "Your phone, please."

Marisol didn't respond, but she also made no move to comply. She turned slightly, looking in Lucian's direction.

He was still engrossed with Nevaeh as he lowered his head. The tenderness on his face was something Marisol had never seen before.

She looked away, meeting Zayne's gaze with icy defiance. "And if I refuse?"

"Please don't make this difficult for me, Mrs. Muller."

His voice remained robotic. It was detached—like a machine running its program. "And please don't make it difficult for yourself either."

That was a threat, clear as day.

"What the hell do you mean by this?" Alinta stepped protectively in front of Marisol.

"Trying to rob someone in public? Do laws mean nothing to you?"

Zayne studied Alinta's face for a moment before reciting coldly, "Alinta Gardner. You've practiced law for six years, five months, and 18 days. You specialize in civil and commercial appeals, intellectual property cases, and corporate legal services.

"You're currently employed at Hanford Law Firm—the top-ranked firm domestically."

He paused deliberately before adding, "Coincidentally, Muller Group maintains close business ties with Hanford. We're their valued client.

"An elite firm like Hanford surely has no shortage of... replaceable talent, Ms. Gardner."

Alinta's face was drained of color. The threat was clear—if she interfered, Muller Group could blacklist her from the entire legal industry. But the person being threatened was her best friend!

"Ali, stay calm."

Marisol took a steadying breath, forcing a reassuring smile as she squeezed Alinta's hand and nudged her toward their car.

"Wait for me in the car. I'll follow suit after I handle this. Don't worry."

She couldn't bear costing Alinta her career. She'd regret it for the rest of her life. Yet Alinta refused to budge.

The fact that Zayne dared threaten Marisol—the legitimate Mrs. Muller—right under Lucian's nose spoke volumes about his stance.

This level of ruthlessness… How could she leave Marisol alone? What if words escalated to force?

Just then, Zayne raised his hand again. "I'm afraid Ms. Gardner can't leave either. Her phone also requires inspection."

Marisol's suppressed fury finally exploded. "What does this have to do with her? I'll speak to Lucian directly!"

She tried to push past Zayne toward the laughing couple. Zayne frowned and blocked her path by extending an arm across her shoulder blades, stopping her in her tracks without actually touching her.

The pretense of courtesy was laughable.

Marisol sneered and attempted to dodge, but his arm was immovable. When she shoved against him, she only succeeded in stumbling backward as a sharp pain shot through her shoulders.

"I warned you not to make this difficult, Mrs. Muller," Zayne said with slightly furrowed brows.

"This is unnecessary."

Alinta had reached her limit. Even if it cost her career, she wouldn't stand by while her best friend was bullied.

She raised her purse, ready to swing—only for Marisol to yank her back violently.

"Mari, let me go! How dare they act like this? I should go bash his head in!

"That bastard cheats in public but can't handle being photographed? Screw this!"

Gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulders, Marisol tightened her grip while sweating profusely. "Calm down. Look at the intersection."

Alinta froze. Her gaze darted toward the intersection.

Four or five black cars had appeared at the curb without warning. Their windows were rolled down to reveal stone-faced men in suits—bodyguards with an intimidating presence. Their target was obvious.

Zayne extended his hand again. "You've always been clever, Mrs. Muller. You know what to do."

Alinta stared in stunned disbelief. "Aren't you two married? How could he—"

This was nothing like a marriage. It might as well have been a feud.

She knew her friend's relationship was strained, but she never imagined it had gotten this bad. What kind of life had Marisol been living?

Marisol knew there would be no peaceful resolution today. Her eyes drifted toward Lucian in the distance. While his men cornered her—his own wife—he stood there laughing with his childhood sweetheart. Their heads were bent close in intimate conversation.

Anyone watching would assume they were the loving couple. And the ones threatening her were even sent by him. It was so laughable.

Her heart ached as if pierced by needles. Marisol closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, her expression was calm as her lips curved into a perfect, practiced smile.

However, her eyes were glacial and devoid of warmth.

She met Zayne's gaze. "Mr. Burnett, I'll delete the photos on my phone.

"But Alinta didn't take any. This has nothing to do with her."

"That's for me to decide," Zayne countered, remaining unmoved.

"Absolutely not."

Marisol stood her ground about this. "Unless you plan to beat me to death right here in front of Lucian and everyone on this street, you won't lay a finger on my friend's phone."

Though it was past 10:00 pm, the street—which was famous for its quiet bars and private eateries—was still lively with pedestrians. A few onlookers had already turned their heads toward the commotion. Some had even snapped photos.

But those who raised their cameras were swiftly intercepted by black-suited bodyguards from the cars. Nothing from tonight would leak to the public unless things escalated beyond control.

Zayne fell silent. Lucian might despise Marisol, but she was still the official wife of Muller Group's chairman. Pushing her further was out of the question.

Marisol pointed to the bar's surveillance camera. "I told you, my friend has nothing to do with this. Check the footage yourselves if you doubt it."

Zayne studied the suddenly unyielding Marisol, and his eyebrows lifted slightly. After a pause, he tapped out a message on his phone. A reply came almost instantly.

Zayne's stern expression relaxed slightly. He made Marisol delete all the photos, including shots of Lucian and Nevaeh's intimate moments and their suspicious behavior when exiting the car. Only after thoroughly checking her gallery one last time did he finally walk away.

Marisol watched as Zayne returned to report from afar. Lucian didn't even glance her way before turning to escort Nevaeh into a nearby private restaurant.

Midway, Nevaeh—who was clinging to Lucian's arm—suddenly looked back at Marisol. Her almond-shaped eyes glinted as one hand dabbed at her smudged lipstick. Her lips curled into a smirk.

"What a bunch of bastards!" Alinta seethed.

Marisol's face remained blank. Ignoring the provocation, she pulled up a black programming interface on her phone, input a series of commands, and summoned a hidden lock icon on the screen.

A tap opened it, and green data streams flickered across the display.