Chapter 8 The Spiked Water

Matilda's face changed dramatically: "Where did you hide it?"

"Want your mother's belongings back?" Sawyer sat back on the sofa, crossing his legs. "Sure. But you can't sign this agreement. I don't care what you have to do—you need to keep Thomas stable. No divorce!"

"Fine!"

Matilda gritted her teeth and finally agreed.

In this world, no one was more important than her mother. She had to get those belongings back.

After leaving the Beaufort Family villa, Matilda felt empty inside.

Sawyer's threats weighed heavily on her, making it hard to breathe. She grabbed her racket and headed to a nearby indoor badminton court to clear her head.

But as soon as Matilda pushed open the glass door to the VIP court, she ran into several people.

Thomas, walking in front, wore a black athletic outfit. His broad shoulders and narrow waist were accentuated, and his zipper was casually pulled down to his chest, revealing his defined collarbone.

Thomas again.

His face still bore faint red marks—the ones she'd left in the car yesterday.

Thomas was wiping his sweat with a towel. When he saw her, he paused slightly.

Matilda gripped her racket tighter.

Sawyer's words circled in her mind: keep him stable, no divorce.

She bit her lip and forced herself to approach him. She had to start a conversation first.

"Mr. Stuart, I need to talk to you about..."

"Thomas!" Just then, a sweet, cloying female voice interrupted.

Josie ran over in a super short pleated skirt and sneakers, looking youthful and energetic, and immediately hooked her arm through Thomas's.

She looked Matilda up and down, a flash of wariness crossing her face.

Matilda was beautiful. Even with injuries on her face, that cool, stubborn air about her was incredibly attractive.

And Thomas's attitude toward Matilda was strange. When had he ever shown such emotional ups and downs toward another woman?

Josie tilted her head and shot a look at the bodyguard behind her.

Just as Matilda took a step forward, someone suddenly shoved her hard from behind.

She stumbled, losing control, and fell forward directly into the arms of a pot-bellied man.

"Whoa!" The middle-aged man staggered back half a step. Looking down, his greasy hands naturally wrapped around Matilda's waist. "Careful there, beautiful."

Matilda's scalp tingled. She shoved him away hard and stepped back two paces.

"Sorry."

The middle-aged businessman rubbed his hands together, his oily face full of smiles. "No problem, no problem. Here to play? It's no fun alone—why don't you practice a couple rounds with me?"

Matilda's face turned cold. "No thanks."

Josie stood beside Thomas, covering her mouth with a coy laugh. "Mr. Scott, you're so lucky. Beautiful women throwing themselves at you wherever you go."

Mr. Scott laughed heartily, his eyes roaming around Matilda's chest.

Thomas stopped wiping his hands with the towel.

He glanced coldly at Matilda, then at the pot-bellied Mr. Scott.

"Mr. Scott's companion?" Thomas's voice was ice-cold.

Josie immediately chimed in: "Not sure."

"They look pretty close though. Maybe she's here to discuss business."

"Let's go rest over there."

With that, Josie pulled Thomas toward the lounge area.

As she turned, she flicked her finger, and a white pill silently dropped into an opened bottle of mineral water on the table—Thomas's water bottle.

Matilda's appearance had made Josie feel threatened. She had to sleep with Thomas and make sure everyone knew about it. That way, the position of Mrs. Stuart could only be Josie's!

Thomas sat on a bench, legs crossed.

Last night Matilda was beaten in the street by some old man's wife, and today she'd switched to an even older one.

And he'd actually felt sorry for her last night.

He smirked, his face full of disgust.

On the other side, Mr. Scott pressed closer, reaching out to grab Matilda's wrist.

"Come on, beautiful, I'll teach you how to hold the racket."

Matilda dodged to the side, her stomach churning.

She grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the table, twisted it open, and took two gulps to suppress the nausea.

"Mr. Scott, please show some respect."

Mr. Scott, his pride wounded, snorted coldly, his greasy gaze looking her up and down.

"What are you playing innocent for? You're out here for fun, so just name your price."

"Is a hundred thousand for one night enough?"

Matilda put down the water bottle, only then realizing she'd grabbed the one Thomas had just placed on the table. But the cap had just been opened, so it should be fine!

Matilda shook off his hand: "Mr. Scott, you should find someone else."

"I'm just here to play badminton."

"Play badminton? From the looks of you, you don't even know how." Mr. Scott snorted coldly.

Just then, Matilda suddenly felt an abnormal heat surge through her body.

She shook her head, not planning to deal with the man in front of her anymore, and forced herself to walk outside.

Mr. Scott grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him: "Don't go! Play a game with me, and I'll pay this much!" He gestured another number.

Matilda struggled hard, but the burning heat in her body grew fiercer, making her limbs weak.

In desperation, she pointed sharply at Thomas in the distance.

"Let go of me! That's my husband!"

The court fell silent instantly.

Mr. Scott froze, turning to look at Thomas.

Thomas sat there, playing with his lighter.

The flame in his hand flared up and died.

He stood up, one hand in his pocket, without giving any extra reaction.

"I don't know her. Mr. Scott, do as you please."

With that, Thomas strode toward the shower area with his long legs.

Mr. Scott came to his senses, his face dark with anger, his hand gripping harder: "Bitch, you dare use Mr. Stuart to scare me! I think you're tired of living!"

Matilda was yanked and stumbled, her knee hitting the chair hard.

The drug in her system fully kicked in. Matilda felt her vision blur and her breathing quicken.

She bit her tongue, and using the sharp pain, suddenly lifted her foot and kicked Mr. Scott's thigh.

Mr. Scott cried out in pain and let go.

Matilda seized the opportunity and ran.

Ahead was Thomas's private lounge. She stumbled into it and locked the door behind her.

Outside came Mr. Scott's furious pounding on the door.

"Open up! Bitch, get out here!"

Matilda leaned against the door, sliding down to sit on the floor.

She gasped for air, pulling at her athletic top's collar.

Her skin was burning hot, and she could feel her sanity slipping away bit by bit.

Just then, she heard a heavy sound from the door lock outside.

Mr. Scott had grabbed something and was forcibly breaking the lock.

The moment the door was kicked open, Mr. Scott, his face full of fat, squeezed in and shut the door behind him.

"Run? Let's see where you run now!"

He lunged forward, pinning Matilda to the carpet, his thick hands going straight to tear her clothes.

Matilda struggled desperately, her nails scratching a deep mark across Mr. Scott's face.

"Get off!"

Mr. Scott winced in pain and backhanded her across the face.

"You ungrateful piece of shit! I'm gonna fucking end you today!"