Stella Laurent clicked across the floor in her stilettos and positioned herself protectively in front of Jenna Roland.

Her red-lacquered nails pointed inches from Jason Roland's face. "Who the hell do you think you are? This is my turf."

Jason's face darkened, veins bulging at his temples. "You bitch looking for trouble?"

Stella smirked, crimson lips curling in contempt. "Go ahead. Take your best shot."

Jenna's eyes glistened with unshed tears, voice trembling. "Jason, get out!"

"Like hell I will!" Jason kicked over a decorative vase near the hallway.

Ethan Roscente emerged from the restroom just as the commotion started. He immediately doubled back to fetch Sean Roland.

When Sean arrived, Jason was screaming obscenities at Jenna.

Sean stepped between them, voice dangerously calm. "Enough. You're embarrassing yourself."

Jason gaped. "You're defending this slut? After what she did to our family?"

"Shut your mouth." Sean's voice cracked like a whip. "One more word and I'll handle you myself."

The club's pounding bass nearly drowned out the altercation until a neighboring VIP suite door swung open.

Tristan Ashcroft stepped out, phone in hand, scanning the scene with icy precision.

Stella seized the opportunity. "Boss, these two are causing problems."

Jason spat on the floor. "Big man with his little threats."

Tristan's expression hardened. He tapped his phone once.

Within sixty seconds, four hulking bodyguards blocked the corridor.

Heidi Roland cowered behind Jason.

"Throw them out." Tristan's voice could freeze lava. "Next time, break their legs."

Jason glared at Jenna. "This isn't over."

The bodyguards hauled them away like ragdolls.

Sean approached Tristan. "Mr. Ashcroft, my apologies—"

"Try that again," Tristan interrupted, "and you'll join them."

Sean pressed his lips together and gave a curt nod.