Part 2Her Sweetheart Beaten, Our Marriage Over

He collapsed to the floor in a heap.

The conference room fell into a dead silence.

Evelyn’s expression finally changed. Those calm, placid eyes were now burning with fury as she stared at me.

I met her gaze without flinching. “Evelyn, if you can’t keep your dog on a leash, I’ll do it for you.”

Miles was still on the floor, more humiliated than he’d likely ever been in his life. His usually composed face was twisted with rage.

He stammered, his lips trembling, “You… you… you…”

The other executives finally snapped out of their shock. They looked like they wanted to scold me, as they usually would, but seeing the feral look in my eyes, they all held their tongues.

Evelyn threw her pen down on the table. “Cole. Apologize.”

How laughable. My cheek was still throbbing, yet my own wife was demanding I apologize to the man who hit me. The original owner of this body must have had the patience of a saint.

“Fine,” I said.

I crouched down, grabbing the back of Miles’s neck. “Mr. Miles…”

THUD.

I slammed his forehead into the polished floor.

“Sorry if I hit you too hard.”

THUD.

Another one.

“My apologies.”

THUD.

The third.

Three sentences, three solid cracks of his head against the ground.

Miles’s eyes looked ready to shoot fire.

I leaned in close to his ear. “Touch me again, and a few bumps on the head will be the least of your worries.”

I stood up, brushing off my pants and ignoring Evelyn’s murderous glare as I walked out of the conference room.

Once outside, I pulled out my phone. The black screen reflected an unfamiliar face.

The features were delicate, almost too refined, but the complexion was pale and the eyes were listless. It was the face of a man who had been swallowing his anger for a very long time.

More memories flooded in.

The original Cole’s parents died young. He was adopted by Evelyn’s grandfather. Three years ago, on his deathbed, the old man forced the two of them to marry. Cole moved into Evelyn’s villa but they always slept in separate rooms. He was given the empty title of “Project Consultant,” a job with no duties other than to endure the entire company’s scorn.

The receptionists would sneer at him. The cleaning lady would deliberately splash dirty water on him. And Miles found new ways to torment him almost daily. Through it all, Evelyn was a silent, cold observer.

What a pathetic existence. I wondered if the poor bastard was paying for some past-life sins.

I started chasing girls at three, ruled the neighborhood streets by five, was peeking into the girls' locker room by ten, and by eighteen, I was a well-known brawler with a reputation.

If it were me, I would have torn this entire company down.

I checked my pockets. Nothing but the phone. I saw a few guys smoking on the terrace and walked right over, plucking a cigarette from one of their packs and sticking it in my mouth.