Divorce The Duke, Marry The King!
Chapter 109: Whore

Chapter 109: Whore

Gasping, she raised her eyes and met his gaze, only for her breath to hitch. He was staring at her in a way that felt almost possessive, his expression unreadable yet intense. What was he thinking? Having him this close again stirred unwelcome memories of their kiss, and she quickly averted her gaze, her face heating with an undeniable blush.

"You look beautiful this way," he murmured with a smirk.

Her eyes flickered back to him before she could stop herself, a mistake she instantly regretted. He looked impossibly alluring in that moment, his features unfairly captivating. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

"Get off me!" She finally snapped, regaining a semblance of composure as she pushed against his chest. He didn’t budge. Frustrated, she exhaled sharply and pleaded, "Please get off me."

That only made him smirk mischievously, the expression igniting fresh irritation in her. Did he ever take her seriously?

"You were the one who seduced me," he teased, tilting his head slightly. "Why act uninterested now?"

Belle swallowed anxiously. "I—I never seduced you! What are you talking about?" She stammered, looking anywhere but at him. His gaze, dark and cunning, sent a tingling sensation through her body, one she despised.

"That hurts," he sighed dramatically. "Especially since you were the one who grabbed onto me and made us fall."

Her eyes widened in retort. "I did not grab you! You were the one who leaned in to kiss..." She stopped abruptly, realizing what she had nearly confessed.

Flushing in mortification, she frowned and chastised herself for talking too much. Quinn, meanwhile, looked thoroughly entertained. Unknown to her, he had already adjusted himself so he wouldn’t actually be crushing her, but she was too flustered to notice.

"Kiss?" He raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I was going to kiss you?" His lips curled into a delighted smile. "Seems like our future Queen isn’t as innocent as we all thought."

"I don’t know what you are talking about," she huffed, keeping her gaze averted. "Now get off me, you are suffocating me."

"Suffocating?" He repeated, clearly amused. "I am barely leaning on you."

Belle’s lips parted slightly as she realized he was right. ’Oh.’ Silently but loud enough for him to hear.

Desperate for another excuse, she tried again. "Get off before someone sees us like this."

Instead of complying, his smile turned almost predatory. She squinted at him suspiciously, instantly wary of whatever was going through his mind. It couldn’t be anything good.

"Don’t you dare do whatever it is you are thinking," she warned, eyeing him warily.

His smirk deepened. "The memory of him kissing you angers me," he murmured. "I want to kiss off his touch from your lips right now."

Before she could react, he suddenly leaned in, but this time, Belle was quicker. She slapped her hand over his mouth, her eyes widening in shock at his audacity.

Just as she was about to rebuke him, the tent entrance flew open, drawing both their gazes toward the doorway, where a slender, fair-skinned woman stood, Michelle, the stepsister Belle despised the most. Taking advantage of the distraction, Belle shoved Quinn off her and rose swiftly to her feet, striding out of the tent without so much as acknowledging Michelle’s presence.

"That wench! Who does she think she..." Michelle seethed, about to storm after Belle when Quinn’s cold voice cut through the air.

"You wouldn’t lay a finger on her if you were wise." His tone was quiet yet sharp, laced with warning. Then, standing to his full height, he smoothed out his shirt, irritation flashing across his face at the unwelcome interruption.

Michelle, sensing the shift in his mood, quickly forced a smile and stepped closer, slipping her hand around his arm. Quinn immediately pried her off and began walking away, acting as though she didn’t exist.

"You agreed to marry me! Why treat me so cold now? Just because of that whore?!" Not willing to give in, Michelle yelled, clenching her fists in anger. She could never understand what men saw in Belle and, at times, wished for her death. Even back then, she had loved Marcel first, yet Marcel only saw Belle, treating Michelle like she was nothing more than a shadow. And now, once again, that wench was seducing her betrothed. But she wouldn’t allow her to have Quinn this time, regardless of their history together.

Quinn suddenly halted.

"Whore?" He repeated the word, his voice devoid of warmth, causing Michelle to take a step back.

Scoffing, he turned his head slightly and said, "Given your past, I would choose her over you, if we are going by whores."

Michelle’s fists clenched even tighter, her nails digging into her palms until she nearly drew blood.

"What does it matter?" She snapped, trying to regain control. "You divorced her because you didn’t love her, right? So why defend her now?!"

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake.

Quinn turned fully to her, his expression unreadable, and stalked toward her with slow, deliberate steps. Before she could react, his hand was around her throat, his grip tightening just enough to make her panic. Michelle’s hands flew up to claw at his wrist, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she struggled.

Leaning in close, his breath fanned her ear as he murmured, "Your father sent you to me as his source of money. Do not overstep your boundaries. Be a good little investment and stay in your place, because if you provoke me, he will kill you first."

With that, he shoved her away. Michelle hit the ground with a choked gasp, coughing as she tried to catch her breath.

Quinn stepped over her without another glance and strode out of the tent, leaving her sprawled on the cold floor, hopeless and shaken.

She rubbed at her sore throat, her breath still uneven, while tears streamed down her face. As much as she wanted to direct her anger at Belle, she knew Quinn was right. Her greedy father was the true source of her misery. She should have run away the moment she lost her mate, but she let herself believe his false promises.

She knew how to fight. She could cook. She could do anything a proper lady could, yet she was always the one left empty-handed when it came to love.

Her tear-filled gaze darkened with resolve.

"I will make both you and my father pay," she whispered, her voice steady but laced with venom.

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