The Queen They Buried (by Wynter Vans) novel Chapter 583

Chapter 583

If his anger could take physical form, anyone looking at him would swear his hair was about to catch fire.

The cellar door swung open, and Trevor, completely wasted and clutching a bottle in the corner, forced his eyes open with great effort. “Get out! Didn’t I tell you? No one’s allowed in here.”

He figured it was just the housekeeper coming to tell him to have his meal.

‘The housekeeper always just knocks. She never actually comes in. Did she suddenly grow a backbone today?‘ Trevor thought.

He fumbled for an empty bottle nearby and tried to throw it at whoever came in, but he was so drunk he could barely lift his arm, let alone actually hit anyone with it. Even speaking exhausted all his strength.

The bottle didn’t even make it past his own feet before dropping to the floor.

Bryan stepped inside, and the stench of alcohol hit him like a punch to the face, so strong it nearly overwhelmed his senses. The cellar was dimly lit, and as he got closer to Trevor, the first thing he saw were empty bottles littered everywhere on the floor.

Trevor was slumped against the wine rack, his clothes wrinkled and rumpled. Greasy hair hung limply over his eyes, and his face was covered in stubble. He looked so unkempt that even the homeless guys under the bridges in Rithol City looked more alive than he did.

He was a far cry from the superstar he once was.

Bryan had just lost the Ridgehaven Town project and had been getting chewed out by Ronald for two days straight. Seeing Trevor in this sorry state was the last straw. His anger finally snapped.

He suddenly grabbed Trevor by the collar, yanked him up, and with his other hand balled into a fist, swung it at Trevor’s jaw without holding

back.

Trevor’s skin, already pale, looked even more sickly and washed–out after being holed up for so long.

Bryan’s fist glanced off the side of Trevor’s mouth, and within moments, a purplish bruise started to form on Trevor’s face.

If Trevor didn’t have to rely on that face to make a living, Bryan would’ve gone for more than just his jaw.

The pain jolted Trevor, making him a little more sober.

“Bryan?” Now, Trevor was truly panicking.

In the Wilson family, even if Ronald was standing right in front of him, Trevor would only hold back out of basic respect because Ronald was

his father.

But Bryan was a whole different story.

When they were kids, Ronald was always tied up with the company, and Alice never really paid much attention to them. Bryan was the only one who took care of his younger brothers.

Which also meant that when they screwed up, Bryan never pulled his punches. He made sure every hit counted, and they’d remember the

lesson for a long time.

“Bryan, what are you doing here?” Trevor asked.

Bryan let out a cold snort. “If I didn’t show up, you’d probably drink yourself to death in here.

1/2

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