Chapter 224: Flashback – The Sharp Edge of Defiance

Author’s POV (23 Years Ago)

Morgan’s gaze hardened as he scanned her from head to toe. He no longer looked at her with the admiration of the past; instead, his eyes were drenched in an icy contempt that caused the smile on Violet’s face to gradually wither. "Hello," Morgan replied, his voice dry and escaping like the hiss of a viper.

Thomas was visibly irritated by Morgan’s presence, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He sensed that this man was a rival for Violet’s heart. "I didn’t know you’d be here today, Morgan," he said in a frigid tone.

"A coincidence of fate," Morgan retorted, his eyes flitting between the two with biting sarcasm.

Seeking to end the encounter, Thomas placed a gentle hand on Violet’s back to guide her away. "Violet, let’s go over there. They have photos of the competing horses. Choose one."

Violet walked with Thomas with calm strides until they reached the display board. She stared at the images with deep focus, then raised a finger and pointed to a horse as pitch-black as the night. "That one," she said.

Thomas laughed inwardly. This horse was notorious for a dismal record it hadn’t won a single race in its life. Yet, he felt compelled to bet on it simply because he had asked her to choose. "Hmm... you have an excellent eye," he said, his heart at odds with his mind.

"Not really," she replied simply. "I just liked the color."

Thomas was about to bet on a losing horse just because its color appealed to Violet. In that moment, he realized the cliché "Love is blind" was an absolute truth. "Wait for me here; I’ll be right back," he said, stepping away.

As Thomas headed toward the betting window, Violet remained alone, contemplating the photos. Suddenly, a heavy shadow loomed over her, and Morgan’s poisonous voice reached her ear. "No clients tonight?"

Violet turned slowly, her brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Morgan stepped forward, increasing the physical pressure on her. "I’m asking you about your clients," he said with sheer audacity.

"I don’t understand... what clients?" she asked, staring into his eyes in disbelief.

Morgan let out a sickly laugh. "Oh, please! Don’t tell me you want to play the innocent girl for Thomas. You weren’t like that when you were at my house."

Violet’s body stiffened. Her voice was quiet but resolute. "Are you going to speak clearly?"

Morgan leaned toward her, his eyes blazing with malice. "You want clarity? Fine. Does Thomas know you’re nothing but a whore?"

Violet looked at him in silence. She didn’t tremble, she didn’t scream, and her marble-like features didn’t flicker. She simply gazed into the depths of his eyes as if trying to grasp the sheer depravity of this man. "What did you just call me?" she asked with an eerie calmness.

"A whore," he spat back. When she remained silent, he continued his tirade. "You weren’t very skilled yesterday; I expected a better performance. I want you at my house tonight. And don’t worry... I’ll pay you double."

In that moment, a mysterious smile played on Violet’s lips, and her eyes flashed with an inexplicable glint. "I want triple," she said defiantly.

Morgan’s eyes widened in shock. He never expected that after such insults she would not only accept but haggle. "Agreed," he whispered.

"Tell me your address," she said, adjusting her posture with regal pride.

Morgan looked at her in disbelief. "You were there yesterday! Did you forget it?"

Violet let out a cold laugh. "Oh, Morgan... do you think your house is the only one on my list? I visit many houses in a single day. How am I supposed to remember yours?"

Morgan felt as if a lightning bolt had struck him, stunned by her brazenness. "Your schedule is quite full then," he said, clenching his fist.

"Yes," she replied curtly. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

He rattled off the address mechanically. As she stepped away, she said, "I’ll be there tonight."

His contempt-filled voice followed her: "I want you to wear something provocative. I don’t want to waste my money on something that isn’t worth it."

Violet gave him one final look, her eyes filled with a lethal coldness. "Don’t worry about that."

Thomas interrupted the high-tension moment, placing a hand gently on her arm. "Come on, the race is about to start."

They walked toward the stands with varying rhythms: Thomas trying to maintain his composure, Violet with her enigmatic coldness, and Morgan following them with a gaze burning with hate.

They ascended to the VIP section, where luxurious leather sofas overlooked the track. Thomas sat in the center with Violet to his right, while Morgan took his seat to Thomas’s left.

Morgan leaned into Thomas’s ear, whispering so only he could hear while eyeing Violet. "Didn’t you say you were a married man? That you had forgotten Violet completely?"

Thomas felt a knot in his stomach. "Stop it, Morgan," he whispered firmly, clenching his fist. "This is not the time."

At that moment, the starting whistle blew, and the iron gates swung open, launching the horses like colored projectiles.

The air was suddenly filled with an immense roar; the track became a living canvas of adrenaline and dust rising under hooves that struck the earth with a seismic rhythm.

The crowd in the general stands was boiling like a cauldron. Thousands stood on tiptoe, waving betting slips in the air, their cheers for their favorite horses rising in a crescendo.

Heads moved in unison with every turn, and all eyes were on the black horse Violet had chosen the one that, as Thomas predicted, started at the very back of the pack.

Violet watched the scene with intense focus. Her green eyes shimmered with every movement of the black horse, her body leaning slightly forward. She gripped the edge of the balcony so tightly that the delicate veins in her hands stood out.

She didn’t scream like the others; she watched with a majestic silence, as if she were communicating with the horse through her mind.

Strands of her hair fluttered in the swift breeze created by the nearby horses, while Morgan watched her silent "excitement" with disdain, trying to convince himself that all this passion was merely part of a performance by the girl who had promised him a "provocative" night for triple the price.