Chapter 432 First Blood
In the forcibly sealed corridor, Paul was pressed up against the wall, blood dripping from his mouth as he snarled at Wyatt, "What the hell, man? You better have a reason for punching me!"
Wyatt's eyes were bloodshot. His voice came out from between clenched teeth. "Yunice was a virgin."
"What?" Paul's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He hadn't caught what Wyatt said.
Virgin?
What the hell did he mean by virgin?
Suddenly, Paul's expression shifted. Wyatt meant…
Paul gritted his teeth. "You slept with her?! She's my woman!"
Wyatt's jaw tightened. His voice dropped low. "She's my wife."
Paul fell silent.
His face twisted with a mix of guilt and jealousy as he asked, voice conflicted, "Did she give herself to you willingly, or did you force her?"
Wyatt's lips curled in a cold sneer. "Of course she gave herself to me."
If he hadn't been waiting for her to willingly come to him, he wouldn't have gone over a year without knowing it had finally happened.
Paul's eyes darkened further at those words. He lost his composure. "So what? You think she was still a virgin? She was with me for ten years. You think she made it out untouched?"
He laughed bitterly. "She probably just patched herself up to fool you. Her first time was with me. You picked up a used, busted condom… pfft!"
Paul was cut off mid-sentence as Wyatt's punch sent him crashing to the ground. Dazed, Paul lay there for a long time before his vision cleared. Something foreign was in his mouth. Reflexively, he spat it out – only to see a bloodied tooth hit the floor.
"Wyatt!" Paul's body trembled with rage. Anger surged, washing over his fear. He scrambled up and lunged at Wyatt.
"You can be as pissed as you want," Paul bellowed, making sure everyone outside could hear. "But it won't change the fact that Yunice slept with me. Seven days and seven nights on that cruise. We tried every position, every trick in the book! Hahaha! Only a desperate loser like you would treat a used-up slut like treasure. Oh, right. And congrats on finally getting a taste. You and that bitch deserve each other. Hope you live happily ever after –"
"I'll kill you." Wyatt's fist flew toward Paul again.
Outside the corridor, staff members – including Taylor – could hear Paul's shouting through the closed door.
They exchanged glances, stunned by the juicy drama spilling from inside.
Taylor's face was stone cold. "No one is to repeat a word of this," she snapped. "Mr. Paul isn't in his right mind. Mr. Wyatt is helping him get treatment."
Inside, she was sick to her stomach. She'd actually married that disgusting man – someone who would trample a woman's reputation just to win a petty fight.
Wyatt should beat him to death.
Taylor turned to tell everyone to leave, but the crowd seemed glued to the spot, pretending they were just there to help Paul, while shamelessly eavesdropping.
They'd always said rich families looked glamorous on the outside and rotten on the inside. Today, they were seeing it firsthand.
An uncle's woman had been sleeping with his nephew for years, and now the two men were beating each other over her. What a mess.
"That chick must be wild in bed to make two guys fight like this… bet she's a freak. Women just use that to get ahead anyway… Man, if I were a woman, I'd lie back, moan a little, and cash would roll right in, heh heh…"
Taylor wrinkled her nose in disgust and marched up to the man spewing filth. "If the front half of a man works, then the back half should too, right? That means you'd make money even faster. If you're short on job prospects, I can ask Mr. Wyatt to show you the ropes."
The man shut up instantly.
Meanwhile, Yunice stepped out of the elevator, her legs still sore. She ignored the discomfort and rushed to Paul's office.
"Taylor!" she called out as she approached. "Where's Wyatt?"
Her eyes scanned the area until she noticed the commotion down the corridor.
Taylor moved to block her. "What are you doing here? Mr. Wyatt can handle it."
With all these people around, Yunice's presence would only fuel the gossip.
But Yunice just patted her shoulder. She'd heard worse gossip in her life. She didn't care anymore.
She looked toward the corridor's busted lock.
Striding up to the door, she tried to yank it open. When that failed, she started banging on it. "Wyatt? Wyatt, open the door!"
People around her stared, wondering who she was to be calling Wyatt by name like that.
Just then, Jordan burst out of the elevator, coat half on – clearly summoned from home in a rush.
Without breaking stride, he gave the gawkers a cold glare. "Are you all done working? If not, get the hell out!"