My Husband Is a Million Years Old Vampire-Chapter 37

At that moment Edward’s gaze locked onto the manager, cold and venomous, his lips curling in disgust. Without hesitation, he raised a finger, pointing directly at him.

"So, you’re the bastard," Edward sneered, his voice low but laced with fury.

"The idiot who decided to hand over an item worth millions—an item that wasn’t even supposed to be sold—like it was a piece of candy?"

Upon hearing what Edward just said.

The manager opened his mouth, inhaling as if he were about to explain himself.

But he never got the chance.

Immediately a sharp slap cut through the air, the sound loud and merciless, echoing in the enclosed space.

At that moment the manager’s head jerked to the side, his cheek instantly swelling from the impact.

Then Edward snorted, shaking his hand as if the mere contact with the manager’s skin disgusted him.

"How dare you," he growled, his eyes burning with pure hatred.

"You should be on your knees, begging for mercy, not standing there like some righteous fool trying to explain yourself."

At that moment the manager’s face twitched, his breathing heavy, but he didn’t crumble. Instead, he slowly turned his head back to Edward, his gaze steady, unwavering.

Then, despite the redness blooming across his cheek, he smirked.

"You’re making a very big mistake, director Edward," he said, his voice calm, but laced with something dangerous.

Hearing the manager words, Edward’s expression darkened.

"A mistake?" he echoed mockingly. "You think bringing you and that scammer"—he threw a glare at Valentina—"here was a mistake?"

The manager tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening.

"Not just a mistake," he murmured, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper.

"But one that will cost you."

Immediately Edward jaw tightened he couldn’t believe the manager still has the guts to utter Such nonsense.

The tension in the room was suffocating. The manager’s words hung in the air, his smirk unwavering despite the bruise already forming on his cheek.

Then Edward’s eyes burned with rage, his hands twitching at his sides.

Then—another slap.

The sharp crack of skin against skin echoed in the station. The force of it sent the manager stumbling, his head snapping to the side, but he refused to fall.

His lips curled, his breath ragged, but his expression remained disturbingly calm.

"I dare you," Edward seethed, his voice dripping with venom.

"Who do you even think you are? A mere manager standing here talking like you have power?"

Then He stepped closer, towering over him.

"Do you think you can compare yourself to a director?" Edward scoffed.

"I make the rules. You follow them. You don’t get a say."

At that moment the manager slowly turned his head back, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He let out a low chuckle, one that sent a chill through the officers in the room.

"Since you don’t want to listen to me, I’ve done my part," he murmured, his tone eerily steady.

"I have no regrets. But director Edward, you... you have no idea what you’ve just done."

Immediately Edward’s jaw clenched.

The way the manager said it—with absolute certainty—it made something deep inside Edward stir with unease. But instead of acknowledging it, his anger flared hotter.

"You still have the audacity to threaten me?" Edward snapped.

Another slap.

This time, the manager staggered, his smirk faltering just for a second.

"Take this fool away!" Edward barked at the officers, his voice shaking with fury.

Immediately the police grabbed the manager’s arms, forcing him toward the holding cells direction.

Edward glared at his retreating figure, his nostrils flaring.

"Lock him up," he growled.

"And throw away the damn key."

Then Edward’s eyes burned with fury as he took a step closer to the trembling manager. His voice, sharp and laced with venom, echoed through the interrogation room.

"I’ve had my suspicions about you for a long time," he sneered. "Reports upon reports of fraud, favoritism, and mismanagement, and now you finally prove it! You handed away something that wasn’t even for sale—like some cheap trinket—and for what? Because she batted her lashes at you?"

At that moment he pointed at the manager.

"I’m going to make sure you rot in jail, next time when you see a lady like her, you run."

The manager, his cheek still red from the slap, clenched his jaw but dared not speak. His hands were shaking slightly, his breathing uneven. He knew Edward wasn’t bluffing.

Meanwhile, Valentina sat rigidly in her chair. Her mind was racing as she replayed the events at the store. She knew the item was worth more than what she paid, but how much more? What was the real value of what she had unknowingly taken?

Her lips parted slightly, hesitant, yet she forced herself to ask.

"Then tell me... how much?"

Edward let out a slow, bitter chuckle, his eyes glinting with amusement as he tilted his head at her.

"How much?" he repeated, dragging the words mockingly. Then, leaning forward slightly, his lips curled into a smirk.

"The item you’re so curious about?" He let out a small laugh, hollow and cutting.

"It’s not even for sale."

Edward’s eyes narrowed as he studied Valentina, his mind racing with possibilities.

He still couldn’t fathom how she had managed to get the manager to bend the rules for her. Was it manipulation? A clever scheme? Or was it really just her beauty? The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his patience wearing thin.

"It doesn’t matter," he muttered under his breath.

"What matters now is that you pay for everything you’ve done."

At that moment Valentina’s brows furrowed, confusion flashing across her face. She was about to speak, to defend herself—when the sound of sharp footsteps echoed through the station.

Her body tensed. Slowly, she turned toward the entrance.

It was Victoria, she strode in like she owned the place. A slow, mocking clap filled the air, her lips twisting into a cruel smile.

"Oh, Valentina..." Victoria drawled, shaking her head in amusement.

"I told you, didn’t I? I warned you that you would regret this."

Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction, taking in Valentina’s restrained form, the tension in the air.

"Now, tell me..." she leaned in slightly, her voice dripping with malice.

"Who’s crying like a homeless dog now?"