CHAPTER 135: SHOPPING SPREE GONE WRONG II
The man immediately grabbed the suit and threw it to the ground. Diana glared at him, rolling her eyes in frustration before bending down to pick it up. Just as her fingers brushed the fabric, the man kicked the suit further away, forcing her to chase after it.
"That's right, bitch. Pick up the suit like the dog you are," the man sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
Diana bit back her tears, trying to hold on to her dignity. She reminded herself why she was buying the suit in the first place. Even if he called her a dog, she would pick it up.
Meanwhile, James, having finished the frustrating call, had emerged from the back of the shop just in time to witness this unsettling scene.
His wife slapping Belle. And now, was bending over to pick up the suit, looking utterly humiliated, while said Belle stood nearby, smirking.
He'd initially decided to observe the situation, because he did not understand at first. But seeing the man intervene and then kick the suit, aggravating the situation, his blood began to boil. He knew then what could have transpired.
Just as Diana reached for the suit again, James strode forward and gently took her hand, helping her to her feet.
Diana found herself face-to-face with her husband's fiery gaze, and the tears she had been holding back threatened to spill. Her expression was one of hurt, like a wounded kitten seeking comfort.
James placed her protectively behind him and turned his full attention to the man who had been harassing her.
Belle's smug expression, which had been plastered on her face just moments before, vanished the second she saw her brother. The triumph she'd felt at "defeating" Diana instantly morphed into regret. A small crowd had begun to gather, drawn by the commotion.
"You dare bully my wife?" James said, his voice low and dangerous, each word enunciated clearly through gritted teeth.
The man rolled his eyes. "And who the hell do you think you are?" he retorted loudly. "Do you even know what your so-called wife did? She slapped my girlfriend—hard—on the cheek! Did she have to do that?"
"What is your name?" James asked, his voice remaining dangerously calm.
"Philip," the man replied, his tone defiant. "And what the hell does that have to do with you?"
"Philip," James began, his voice dangerously calm, but laced with authority. "You see, I don't care to know what my wife did. I only know that the woman beside you deserved the slap she got. My wife doesn't act without reason."
James gaze hardened as he continued. "So, I'm giving you five seconds to pick up the suit you threw on the floor." He pulled out his phone and made a quick call.
Antonio appeared moments later, standing silently beside his boss. "Boss, you called?" Antonio asked, his voice steady as his sharp eyes assessed the situation.
James nodded in the direction of Philip. "Make sure this man picks up the suit in five seconds."
Belle, sensing the tension rising, immediately tugged at Philip's shirt, her voice laced with panic. "Phil, please, just pick up the suit. I don't want any trouble."
Philip glanced at her, for a brief moment, felt pity at the desperation in her eyes. But his arrogance quickly took over. "Are you scared of this tramp and his wife?" he muttered, his voice laced with disdain. "I'll get revenge for you, I promise."
Antonio nearly choked at the insult directed at his boss. Without waiting for a further command, he swiftly grabbed Philip by the collar, hoisted him into the air, and threw him to the floor with a resounding thud.
The impact was sickening; Philip landed awkwardly, a sharp crack of his spinal chords breaking echoing through the stunned silence.
The crowd gasped as Philip hit the floor, groaning in pain, clearly injured.