Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire Chapter 420: Club fight

A single glance was all it took for her to recognize ’her’—the woman who had been clinging to Vicente in the restaurant earlier.

Her eyes flicked to the hand still gripping Vicente’s arm, and the initial shock in her heart was instantly swallowed by a surge of white-hot fury.

"Vicente, you actually brought her here?

To introduce her to , or to rub it in my face?"

Tears spilled uncontrollably from her eyes like scattered pearls, her entire body trembling with rage.

Helena hadn’t expected his good intentions to backfire so spectacularly.

Helena turned to lissa, trying to explain, "Miss Taylor, you’ve got it all wrong—"

"Shut up!

You don’t get to speak here!"

After all, lissa had been doted on by the Taylor family and her brother Taylor since childhood.

Even in anger, she carried an air of authority.

Helena blinked, both surprised and amused by the little firecracker’s outburst.

With an arched brow, he wisely sealed his lips and tossed the problem back to Vicente.

"lissa, he’s—" "I don’t want to hear it from you either!

I’m going back to San Francisco—right now!"

lissa wasn’t about to give Vicente a chance to explain.

She wiped her tears, pushed herself up from the seat, and stord toward the exit.

The mont she stood, the alcohol from the night hit her all at once.

Her steps faltered, swaying unsteadily before she stumbled sideways— Only to be caught by a strong, slender arm wrapping firmly around her waist, steadying her.

Vicente’s deep, obsidian eyes held hers, his voice a low murmur.

"lissa, you’re drunk."

"Whether I’m drunk or not is none of your business," lissa glared at Vicente, desperately trying to ignore the comforting scent unique to this man that kept drifting to her nose.

"Let go of , or I’ll scream for help!!"

Scream for help?

Helena barely suppressed a smirk.

Helena wanted to remind Miss Taylor that not only was Vicente’s so-called "harassnt" of her completely fabricated, but even if it were real, this guy wouldn’t bat an eye.

"Fine," Vicente steadied lissa on her feet before releasing his grip.

"Take it slow."

Vincent wasn’t afraid of lissa’s threats—what he feared was her anger.

Seeing that Vicente had actually let go, a pang of disappointnt flickered deep in lissa’s heart, her eyes reddening further.

"I don’t need your concern," she slurred, stumbling a couple of steps toward the door before kicking off her shoes and tossing them aside.

"You’re bullying too, you stupid shoes!!"

Vicente’s dark eyes narrowed instantly as he saw lissa’s bare feet on the cold floor.

Without hesitation, he strode forward, effortlessly scooping her up with one arm and carrying her toward the exit of the bar.

"Put down, Vicente! Let go!!"

lissa flailed wildly the mont her feet left the ground, her entire body twisting in protest.

"Jerk!

You absolute brute—let go of !"

But his muscular arm was like an iron vise, unyielding no matter how hard she struggled.

Though many patrons noticed the commotion, no one intervened.

The situation was clear—just another lovers’ quarrel.

"Be good.

The floor’s cold."

His face remained stern, his movents unrelenting, yet his voice was unexpectedly tender. "We’ll talk at ho."

"I said I don’t need you to care! If you don’t let go right now, I—I—" lissa huffed in frustration, at a loss for how to deal with him.

As if he could ever bring himself to hurt her.

Without pausing his stride, Vicente carried lissa through the chaotic crowd and out of the bar.

"Once we get back, you can do whatever you want to , alright?"

"No!!"

"Be good."

Helena, standing close by, heard every word clearly and couldn’t help but twitch at the corner of his eye.

What was this?

Love truly was the great equalizer—even the fiercest could be tad!

No one would have ever imagined that Vicente, known for his ruthlessness among the underground factions at the border, would one day be brought to his knees like this.

anwhile, several won whispered excitedly as they watched Vicente and lissa walk away.

"Oh my god, that was so manly!"

"Right?

Just look at those arms—you can tell he’s got stamina."

"Absolutely." ...

Back at the table where lissa had been sitting, her friends were just as animated.

"Being handso really does make everything look like a scene from a romance drama."

"Exactly!

If it were so ugly guy, this would be straight out of a horror flick."

"Honestly though, that man looked perfect with lissa—their size difference just amps up the chemistry!"

Jamal’s face twisted with disapproval, perhaps annoyed at being upstaged or having his fun ruined.

"Regardless, lissa didn’t leave willingly. Doesn’t that seem wrong to you?"

His classmates caught his drift but had no interest in humoring his dramatics.

"Jamal, the crowd’s got eyes—they’re clearly a couple.

What’s the issue?"

"Face it, you’re just salty because the beauty slipped right through your fingers."

Jamal had only ant to stir the pot for attention, but the jab got under his skin, pushing him to double down.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?"

Jamal scowled in the direction where Vicente and lissa had disappeared.

"Being a couple doesn’t justify dragging soone off against their will.

lissa even slapped him earlier—what if he’s taking her for revenge? We should call the cops."

The group exchanged exasperated glances.

Sure, lissa had slapped the guy, but he clearly hadn’t taken it to heart—otherwise, he wouldn’t have fretted over her bare feet on the cold ground.

"Call them yourself if you want. We’re not playing along with your nonsense."

Jamal gritted his teeth.

"I’ll call the cops myself."

Just as he pulled out his phone, a slender hand with wine-red nails stopped him.

"Hey, handso," Helena said with a bewitching smile, his voice a srizing blend of masculine and feminine tones.

"Before you dial 911, let give you a heads-up—that guy who just left isn’t exactly the forgiving type.

Otherwise, why do you think no one stepped in when he caused such a scene in the bar?"

Helena leaned in slightly, his gaze playful yet sharp.

"If you ddle and ruin his chances of making up with his wife, trust , he won’t let you off easy."

Jamal froze, his finger hovering over the screen.

Jamal *had* sensed the man was dangerous—calling the police was just a face-saving move.

"Are you... threatening ?"

Helena blinked, feigning hurt.

"How could you think that?

I just thought you were cute and wanted to spare you so trouble.

Take the warning or leave it—your call."

With that, he glanced over his shoulder.

"Pick up the lady’s shoes and let’s go."

"Yes, boss!"

"Got it."

The long-haired man and the buzz-cut youth scooped up lissa’s discarded heels, then shot Jamal a loaded look before following Helena out.

The unspoken threat was unmistakable.

Jamal’s face darkened, but he slowly lowered his phone.

The bar’s raucous energy surged back to life as if nothing had happened.