Chapter 15
“Does a pretty woman like you know how to make cookies?”
Several men crowded around the door of Marcus’ house, leering at Cordelia with disgusting grins. They weren’t alone—others were watching from a distance, but no one dared to step in. The thugs were well-known for being bullies in the area, and no one was willing to risk getting involved. If anyone were to blame, it was Cordelia for being so beautiful and Marcus for carelessly leaving her alone at home. He was giving others the chance to take advantage of her.
Cordelia’s heart raced, her face paling as fear gripped her. But she forced herself to stay calm.
“I hear the new bride is a rich heiress?”
“No wonder!” one of them snickered. “Rich heiresses never step foot in the kitchen. How would she know how to bake cookies?”
“Beautiful, you must not know our local custom, huh?”
The men’s eyes seemed glued to Cordelia.
“Women who get married around here are supposed to bake cookies and bring them to the neighbors! You’ve been married for a few days now, but we haven’t seen any cookies!”
Cordelia’s voice shook as she tried to keep her composure. “Excuse me, I didn’t know about this custom.” She smiled as gently as she could manage. “I’ll bring the cookies over once I make them. My husband is coming back soon. Please—”
She started to close the door, but one of the men wedged his knee into the doorframe. The others howled and cheered, and when Cordelia panicked and lost her grip, they barged in. Their gazes were lecherous, filled with nothing but vile intentions.
“It’s surprising, isn’t it? The Grist guy has such good luck with women!” one of the men said, leering.
Cordelia’s stomach turned with disgust. She instinctively crossed her arms in front of herself, her eyes scanning the men warily.
“This is my house. Get out!” she said firmly, raising her voice. “My husband is coming home soon! You all know what he’s like!”
The men looked at each other and laughed darkly.
“Of course we know him! He’s the coward who runs off to the toilet every time there’s a fight!”
“Yeah, beautiful, you don’t know the half of it. Marcus is a real coward! Every time we get into trouble, it’s him who gets hauled off to the police as a scapegoat!”
“We should’ve gone to your wedding! We didn’t get to ‘congratulate’ you then, but we can do it now…”
The men encircled Cordelia, some of them daring to touch her. Despite the fear and disgust bubbling inside her, a memory of Marcus punching the bag in the yard came to mind. She had never done it herself, but she’d seen it. Somehow, she found the courage to mimic him, swinging her fists at the thugs like a punchbag.
The men were stunned, but her fighting back only seemed to stoke their filthy desires.
“A feisty one, huh?” one of them chuckled darkly.
Cordelia grabbed a stick from the front of the house, trying to look intimidating as she brandished it.
“Get out! Leave!” she demanded.
“Beautiful, that’s pointless!” one of them laughed. “You’ll just hurt yourself with that stick if you’re not careful. Let us show you how to use it!”
Fear, terror, and helplessness crushed her chest, making it hard to breathe. The men grew bolder. Two of them grabbed her, dragging her toward the house…
Then, suddenly, a loud bang echoed from the door.
Before they could react, their heads were struck with two hard blows.
Cordelia stood frozen in shock as the men, who had been so confident moments before, now covered their heads and sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.
Marcus stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the light behind him. His expression was cold and sharp, his gaze hard and commanding, even without uttering a word.
As soon as she saw him, Cordelia couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. She rushed into his arms, and Marcus wrapped his arms around her, gently stroking her hair.