## Chapter 3: A Clash of Titans “Get lost!” The words tore through the air like a blade, freezing Florence in her tracks. She had never seen Dustin like this—his usual calm demeanor replaced by an intensity that made him seem almost predatory, as if he were ready to consume her whole. Fear gripped her, and in that moment of shock, she stumbled to regain her composure. Finally finding her voice, Florence screamed, “Help! Help! He’s attacking my son!” Within moments, the imposing figures of the Quine Group’s security guards converged upon them, drawn by her desperate cries. “Mrs. Nicholson! What happened here?” The head of security, Tom, recognized her instantly and rushed to her side, concern etched on his face. “Tom! Restrain this man right now! He must be punished for laying a hand on my son!” Florence’s voice was laced with desperation and fury. “Holy hell! How dare you cause a scene on Quine Group property? Have you lost your mind?” Tom waved his arms dismissively, signaling to the other guards to encircle Dustin. Here was their chance to earn some favor with the president's mother; a successful intervention could mean promotion or a raise. “What are you waiting for? Take him down!” But just as the guards were readying themselves to act, a sultry voice broke through the tension. “What do you think you’re doing?” A woman, enchanting and confident in a shimmering silver dress, pushed her way through the cluster of onlookers. Her lips, painted a fiery red, added to her allure, and every step she took was effortlessly graceful. “She’s breathtaking!” The guards gawked, momentarily distracted by her beauty. She was one of the most captivating women they had ever encountered. “Mr. Rhys, are you alright?” The woman’s gaze fell upon Dustin, concern illuminating her striking features. Dustin’s fury began to ebb as he focused on her, a curious glint sparking in his narrowed eyes. “Who are you?” “Nice to meet you, I’m Natasha Harmon. Mr. Anderson sent me,” she replied, flashing a warm smile. A ripple of excitement coursed through the security team at the mention of her name, whispers cascading through the crowd. “Natasha Harmon? The heiress of the Harmon family?” “Oh my God! What’s she doing here?” Shock and awe filled the air. Natasha Harmon was a name that rang loud and clear throughout the city, synonymous with beauty, power, and intellect. By age 22, she had commandeered the Harmon Group and built a thriving business empire all within five years. “Ah, it’s you,” Dustin responded, a mixture of recognition and surprise softening his features. He had heard of her, but never anticipated her connection to Hunter. “Mr. Rhys, please wait in the car. I’ll handle this,” Natasha commanded, snapping her fingers decisively. Instantly, her four bodyguards brandished their batons, marching forward with an intimidating presence that compelled the security guards to step back. The reputation of the Harmon family’s elite security was well-known—they were trained to protect and to intimidate. “After you, Mr. Rhys,” Natasha said, her voice smooth yet commanding. Seeing how the dynamic had shifted, Natasha extended her hand towards Dustin, a blend of assertiveness and grace in her invitation. Without hesitation, he gathered the fragments of his shattered necklace and followed her to the car, the crowd parting for them like the Red Sea. No one dared to obstruct their passage. “What the hell just happened? Why did you let them go?” Florence’s voice rang out as the realization set in. “Mrs. Nicholson, that’s Natasha Harmon. We cannot afford to offend her!” groaned Tom, the head of security, visibly rattled. None of them would think of crossing her. “You’re useless! You wouldn’t dare cross her, but it’s fine to disrespect my daughter?” Florence’s voice dripped with venom. The guards exchanged glances, unsure of how to respond to her outrage. “What is going on?” Dahlia and Lyra emerged from the depths of the chaos, curiosity piqued by the pandemonium. “Dahlia! You’re just in time! Look at how brutally your brother has been beaten!” Florence’s voice cracked, her emotional display an all-too-familiar act of distress that seemed to veil more than it revealed. “What happened? Who did this?” alarm coursed through Dahlia as she assessed her brother’s injuries. “Who else could it be? That bastard Dustin!” Florence exclaimed, her indignation boiling over. “We ran into him just now; James found a crystal necklace he dropped and tried to return it, but Dustin claimed he stole it from him! After some back and forth, he laid into James! My poor boy, he was just trying to do the right thing. What did he do to deserve such a beating?” Her cries intensified, echoing her agony. “Dustin?” Dahlia’s brow furrowed, confusion creeping into her words. “He’s always been so mild-mannered. Why would he lash out at James without cause? What on earth happened?” “Are you doubting your own mother?” Florence’s tone was withering. “I just want to uncover the truth,” Dahlia replied, her brow knitting in thought. Over the years of her marriage, she had come to understand Dustin’s temperament. He was usually the poster child for restraint, never someone to resort to violence without provocation. “Look at your brother! Does it not scream the truth? If you don’t believe me, ask the security guards—they witnessed everything!” As she said this, Florence shot a significant glance toward the assembled guards. “Ms. Nicholson, your mother’s right. That man was the instigator here. Had we not intervened, she might have fallen victim to him too.” The head of security’s acknowledgment felt like a lifeline thrown to Florence. “See? I’m not lying about that monster!” she continued, her fury unabated. “I warned you before—the Rhys guy isn’t a good man. He’s a hypocrite. Look at what he’s done just after the divorce! He’s already flaunting a new woman!” Dahlia’s frown deepened, tension coiling in her stomach. Could it be true? Had she misjudged him all along? In the storm of emotions swirling within her, the reality began to shift—was Dustin seeking retribution for her past actions through her brother? If that was the case, it painted a deeply troubling picture that left her questioning everything.