Touch Me, and I'll Make Sure Your Home Life is a Living Hell

The man blocking Scarlett's path was Aron Sun, one of the nine clients who had canceled on her this month. Already in a foul mood, Scarlett tried to sidestep him, but Aron quickly moved his bulky frame to obstruct her. His eyes wide with surprise or perhaps delight, he exclaimed, "Scarlett, it really is you!"

Scarlett, her face a mask of cold indifference, replied, "Move."

Aron studied Scarlett's face, which had haunted his thoughts for some time. His eyes lowered, scanning her outfit, and his excitement grew. He chuckled, "No wonder you didn't want to be a tutor at my place, Scarlett. You've moved on to bigger and better things."

Irritated by his greasy voice and the alcohol on his breath, Scarlett warned him coldly, "Move away."

Aron had hinted at wanting to keep Scarlett for himself before, but her fiery temper had caused her to storm out, leaving him to pine for her. He had thought her a chaste and virtuous woman, but now... there was no way he would let her go easily.

Grinning cheekily, Aron said in a slick tone, "We've known each other for a while, Scarlett. Why didn't you tell me about your new job? I could have come and supported your business."

Scarlett, disgusted by his inability to take a hint, tried to walk past him again. He blocked her way, and she nearly collided with him. Her anger finally boiling over, she glared at him and said in a low voice, "Do you really want me to call your wife?"

Aron laughed, unfazed, "Call my wife? Don't you know she's thought you were a seductress from the moment she laid eyes on you?"

Scarlett's eyes flashed with mockery, and she replied, "It doesn't matter if I'm a seductress or not. What your wife cares about is why you keep pestering me."

As she spoke, she pretended to take out her phone. In a panic, Aron reached for her, and Scarlett reacted violently. She immediately bent her elbow and struck him in the chest. Her sharp elbow hit him hard, causing Aron to gasp in pain. He then angrily pinned her against the wall.

Scarlett was slightly taller than Aron, but she was still a woman. In an instant, she felt a chill down her spine as her head hit the wall. Amidst the ringing in her ears, she saw Aron in front of her, panting heavily and gritting his teeth, "What's the big act? You dress up like a proper teacher during the day, but you're still a prostitute at night. Was my offer too low?"

Scarlett struggled, but she couldn't move. All she could do was glare at him and say, word by word, "Touch me, and I'll make sure your home life is a living hell!"

Aron sneered, "With the way you're dressed, calling the police would just be the pot calling the kettle black. If you're not afraid of being embarrassed, then go ahead and scream. Let everyone know you were the one who came out here first to be a little…"

Before he could finish, Scarlett found an opening and stomped on his foot. The pain caused Aron to loosen his grip, and she immediately followed with an elbow to his chin. As he staggered back, she turned and ran.

She hadn't gotten far when she suddenly let out a muffled groan, feeling as if someone had grabbed her by the throat. Aron had somehow managed to catch her by her hair from behind, furious and cursing, "Damn it! I've shown you enough respect!"

Scarlett's scalp tingled with pain as she was yanked by her hair. Her hands reached back, and though she was in a completely defenseless position, she still clawed at his hand, wishing she could tear away both skin and flesh.

The more viciously she fought, the angrier Aron became, his eyes bloodshot. He dragged her by her hair toward the private room's door, swearing under his breath, "If I don't teach you a lesson tonight, I'm not a Sun!"

In the chaos, Scarlett, ready to throw caution to the wind, screamed for help. As she looked up, her heart sank. A few meters down the hallway, several waiters stood, having been there for a while without any intention of intervening. As one of them moved to step forward, Aron bellowed, "All of you, get the hell away!"

The waiter stopped in his tracks.

Aron's hand was already on the door handle, and Scarlett's mind raced with thoughts of how she could save herself once they were inside. But as the door opened just a few inches, she suddenly heard Aron cry out in pain behind her. Her scalp loosened, and someone pushed her forward.

Taking a couple of steps, she slowly turned around. Aron's bulky body was pressed tightly against the corridor wall, his bloated face contorted with pain, just like the arm pinned behind his back. The person holding Aron's arm in a vice-like grip was none other than Lucius Zhou.

In the dimly lit private room earlier, Scarlett had been unable to get a clear look at Lucius' face. He had been sitting the whole time, so she hadn't realized how tall he was. Now, standing behind Aron, he towered over him by a head's length. Dressed in black pants and a dark blue silk shirt with one sleeve rolled up to reveal a sinewy forearm, he appeared, at first glance, to be the epitome of languid luxury. But upon closer inspection, only a cold, menacing aura remained.