Chapter 10: Scars

Words : 1707 Updated : Feb 19th, 2024

Dylan was so terrified that he couldn't even bring himself to look Marty in the eye. Trembling, he stammered, "I... I don't dare..." Marty raised an eyebrow and asked, "Did the Santee family send you?" "Yes... Yes," Dylan admitted, not bothering to hide anything. "Didn't your men say they were going to smash the place? Well, go ahead and smash it. Once you've done that, you can leave," Marty said nonchalantly. Dylan felt utterly aggrieved. He had already surrendered; why was Marty still pressing him? Couldn't he show a bit of mercy? "N... No smashing…" Dylan muttered under his breath. "Come on! It's fine! Smash it! After all, if you smash it, you owe ten times the compensation," Marty said with a smirk. Dylan was about to lose his mind. This was a blatant setup to make him pay more. "If you don't smash it, I'll do it myself and just say you did," Marty added, his tone still light but dripping with menace. Dylan's scalp tingled with fear. This guy was shameless! A scoundrel! A beast! He couldn't even think of the right words to curse Marty in his head. "Either way," Marty continued, "whether you smash it or I do, you'll owe ten times the compensation. How about this? Pay me directly, and I'll spare you the trouble." Dylan felt utterly trapped. "I'll give you a discount—just pay $20,000!" Marty offered, though the "discount" was still a huge sum for a small-time thug like Dylan. But with no other way out, and knowing it was the only way to avoid further disaster, Dylan reluctantly agreed. He quickly transferred $20,000 to Marty, then led his men away, thoroughly defeated and dejected. "Mr. Marty, I'll be off too," Jerry said, waving as he prepared to leave. "From now on, you're my brother. If anyone bothers you again, just call me." Jerry? Graeme, who had been observing, instantly pieced things together. She had heard of Jerry's reputation in the underworld. It was clear now that this notorious boss had come to Marty's rescue. So, this ordinary driver wasn't responsible for making those thugs kneel after all. "Was Jerry here for treatment?" Graeme asked. Marty nodded. "Yep." But his gaze lingered on Graeme a little longer than usual. Typically, Graeme wore loose-fitting security uniforms, but today, her tight clothes highlighted her figure, which made Marty a bit excited. "Ms. Eileen sent me here to protect you and your mother," Graeme stated, her tone cold and professional. Her frosty attitude, coupled with her clear dislike for Marty, made it clear she wasn't here to make friends. Waving her hand, she dismissed her security team. "Dismissed!" The guards promptly returned to their vehicles and drove off. Marty, still cheeky, asked, "My wife just sent you alone to protect us?" Graeme mentally cursed him for referring to Eileen as "my wife" so casually, but she grudgingly responded, "I'm enough on my own." "Can you handle ten people at once?" Marty asked, pushing his luck. "Fifteen," Graeme replied coolly. "And if there are too many, I'll still manage to get you out safely." "Great!" Marty said, grinning. "Thanks for your hard work. How about I give you a massage to show my appreciation?" "Get lost!" Graeme snapped, immediately regretting her outburst. Realizing that Marty was now technically the son-in-law of the Letherdale family, she quickly corrected herself. "Sorry, that was out of line." "It's fine. Thanks for your hard work, Madam Graeme," Marty replied, still smiling. Graeme, annoyed, asked, "Why are you calling me 'Madam.' now?" "You're twenty-eight, right? Five years older than me. I should call you 'Madam,' don't you think?" "You..." Graeme was momentarily taken aback. As an older single woman, she was sensitive about her age, and the fact that Marty knew it made her feel uneasy. How did he know? Had he been paying extra attention to her? At that moment, Marty's mother, Candice, walked in, yawning. "I heard some noise while I was sleeping. What happened?" "Oh, nothing to worry about, Mom. Just some passersby making a bit of noise," Marty said casually. Candice's eyes shifted to Graeme. "Are you here to buy medicine?" Graeme quickly explained, "No, I'm here to protect you and your son, sent by Ms. Eileen." She added that the Letherdale family was concerned about business rivals potentially causing harm, which was why she had been assigned to protect them. "Oh, that's very considerate of them," Candice said. "Thank you for your efforts." After a bit more small talk, Marty gently encouraged his mother to go back to rest. The atmosphere between Marty and Graeme remained tense, mostly because Graeme was not interested in being friendly with him. After a while, Graeme broke the silence with a practical question. "Where am I sleeping tonight?" Marty pointed upstairs. "There are two bedrooms. My mom's using one, so you can have the other." "Forget it!" Graeme cut him off abruptly. That night, Graeme chose to sleep on the floor. It wasn't that Marty didn't care about offering her comfort. In fact, he had intended to offer her the bedroom. But Graeme, being a clean freak and clearly disliking Marty, refused to sleep anywhere he had been. The next morning, Marty got up early to drive Eileen to work. It was a Wednesday, just four days before their wedding. When he went downstairs, he found Graeme still sleeping on the floor, wearing the same tight, sleeveless top from the day before. Marty, ever cheeky, tried different angles but couldn't sneak a peek at anything inappropriate. However, he did notice scars on her legs. From his experience, some of the marks were clearly from knife wounds, while others looked like they came from years of rough encounters. Given Graeme's rumored background in special forces, the scars weren't too surprising. As he continued examining her legs, Graeme yawned and opened her eyes, catching him staring. She quickly pulled the blanket over her legs. "Don't bother covering them. I've already seen them," Marty said. "I was wondering why, even in hot weather, you always wear long pants when other women wear skirts." "Hmph! I'm in charge of security. How can I kick properly if I'm wearing a skirt?" Graeme shot back. "You can still kick in a skirt. Why don't you wear one and show me a high kick?" Marty teased with a grin. "Get lost!" Graeme glared at him, pulling on her pants and getting dressed. Marty offered, "I can help you get rid of those scars, you know." "Really?" Graeme's initial excitement quickly turned to suspicion. "No thanks." Though she cared about her appearance, and the thought of removing the scars was appealing, she couldn't shake the feeling that Marty had ulterior motives. Plus, she didn't believe he could actually do it—especially for the deep knife wounds, which would require surgery to heal. "I'm serious," Marty insisted. "I've been through battles too, but I don't have any scars because I removed them with my own techniques. If you don't believe me, I can show you." With that, Marty started to take off his shirt.

Chapter 10: Scars

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