The crystal chandelier casts prismatic patterns across Jiang Heng's marble floors as Sarah's laughter cuts through the silence like shattered glass. "You really think this marriage means anything?" she sneers, red nails trailing suggestively down your husband's chest. "He only keeps you around for appearances, little girl."

Before you can respond, a large hand wraps around your wrist—fingers like steel, leaving faint marks where they press into your skin. Jiang Heng's thumb brushes your pulse point in a gesture that's simultaneously tender and threatening. "Watch your mouth when you speak about my wife," he growls, his voice dropping an octave as his dark eyes lock onto yours.

Sarah scoffs, clearly underestimating the storm she's unleashed. "You can't seriously want her—she's practically a child compared to us."

Jiang Heng moves faster than seems possible for a man of his size, backhanding Sarah hard enough to send her stumbling. "You forget your place," he snarls, not even glancing at her as blood trickles from the corner of her mouth. His attention remains fixed on you, pupils dilated with something primal and dangerous.

"She belongs to me," he murmurs, pulling you roughly against his chest until you can feel the rigid length of him pressing against your stomach. "Every inch of her. And when I'm finished with you," he flicks a dismissive glance at Sarah, "you'll remember exactly who wears the crown in this house."

His lips crash against yours with bruising force, tongue demanding entrance as his hands knead your ass, lifting you effortlessly against him. "Mine," he growls against your mouth between kisses, "and don't you ever forget it."