It was late at night on an empty road.
A champagne-colored recreational vehicle glided smoothly under the moonlight, followed by dozens of black cars. The convoy moved with a sense of power, like an army heading into battle.
Inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was tense.
Natalie Turner, dressed in a black business suit, sat in the white leather seat, calm and composed. She had a sharp, oval face with refined features, her eyes cold but beautiful. She flipped through the documents in her hand, unaffected by the loud sounds coming from the bedroom behind her.
Across from her sat a row of men in suits, all sweating nervously, barely daring to breathe.
After reviewing the documents, Natalie looked up, a proud smile on her face. "Well done. We’ll be able to present an excellent report at tomorrow's annual meeting. Thank you for your hard work."
"President Turner, it's late. You should get some rest," suggested the head of the marketing department, clearly trying to ease the tension in the room.
The others chimed in, nodding in agreement.
A female assistant leaned in, offering a cup of water. "President Turner, perhaps we should—"
"Let’s focus on the acquisition," Natalie interrupted, her tone firm. She wasn’t about to be unsettled by what was happening inside. If they weren’t embarrassed, why should she be?
Her subordinates had no choice but to press on, despite the growing discomfort. Every so often, the sounds from the bedroom grew louder, making the men shift uncomfortably in their seats, tugging at their ties or avoiding eye contact. Natalie ’s calm demeanor seemed impenetrable, even though the man inside was her husband.
"That’s enough for tonight." Natalie finally stood up, taking a sip of water to swallow the bitterness rising in her throat.
The car slowed for a moment, then continued its journey.
"President Turner, if you’re hurting, it’s okay to cry," her assistant whispered, admiring her strength.
Natalie gave a slender smile. Weeping? What possible benefit would it have? Over the years, she had posed several questions to herself, but none of them had satisfactory responses.
The bedroom door squeaked open, revealing a man's outline that had been hidden from view. He commanded the room with his authoritative presence and outstanding good looks. Leaning lazily against the doorframe, his gaze was cold as it landed on the woman standing by the water cooler.
“P-President…” The assistant stammered, immediately retreating to the front of the vehicle in fear.
Natalie felt her nerves tighten, but she composed herself quickly. After a brief moment, she turned and greeted him with cool detachment, bowing slightly. “Good evening, President.”
John Lawson said nothing, his sharp green eyes narrowing as they gleamed with an icy light. The faint smile on Natalie ’s face seemed to provoke him, and the air between them grew tense.
“Well done, Natalie ,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Smiling so calmly, as if none of this touches you. I’d love to see how long you can keep it up.”
He moved toward her with the smooth, deliberate grace of a predator. As he drew closer, Natalie instinctively stepped back. His presence filled the air with a scent that made her stomach turn.
Her subtle retreat didn’t escape his notice. His green eyes darkened as he leaned in, pinning her with a swift, possessive grip, his fingers lifting her chin. “Tell me, darling, am I really that frightening?”
“Is one woman not enough to satisfy you, President?” she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. The girl in the bedroom had been with the company less than two weeks, yet he had wasted no time showing her favor.
The humiliation he inflicted was always absolute.
