Chapter 172
Wayne shook his head, meaning. ‘Now’s not the time to start trouble.
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Frank got to his feet, all business. “I’ve got a pile of work waiting for me this afternoon, so I’m heading out.”
As soon as Frank walked out, the others‘ faces instantly darkened.
Ken looked at Wayne, worry written all over his face. “Wayne, are we really just going to sit on our hands?”
Wayne’s eyes turned dark and dangerous, a sinister smirk curling on his lips. “We’ll make a move, but not by ourselves. If I recall, Frank’s nephew is a total loser–he’s twenty–one now, right? Wasn’t it Frank who swept things under the rug for him when he killed someone in a car accident?”
Ken’s eyes sparked in recognition. Yeah, that had really rattled Frank back then, since the kid was his sister’s only son–turned out rotten, though. Frank had bent over backward trying to help his nephew, lined up job after job, but the dude could never get his act together and just kept dragging Frank into trouble.
He hadn’t been seen around Frank’s company these last few years, and nobody had a clue what he was doing
now.
Wayne whipped out his phone and made a call, telling someone to dig up Frank’s useless nephew.
Eric had just left the red–light district when a few guys suddenly stepped in and blocked his way.
He shifted sideways, but the man dressed in black simply beckoned toward a luxury car worth six hundred grand parked just a stone’s throw away. Eric’s eyes flashed with greed as soon as he saw it–that was serious money. Without a second thought, he strode over.
The tinted window slid down, but the man’s face inside was masked in darkness. He slipped Eric a check for
60 thousand.
“Six hundred grand for a woman’s life. I’ll tell you exactly where to find her. Grab her, make her suffer— humiliate her good–and then finish her off. Record it, send me the video. You’ve done worse before, haven’t you, Eric? Grady always gets you out of trouble, so why would this time be any different?”
Eric was Frank’s deadbeat nephew. His mom–Frank’s own sister–had died saving Frank, and left Eric for him to take care of. Just two months after his wife’s death, Eric’s dad couldn’t wait to get hitched again and tossed Eric out like yesterday’s trash. That was when Eric started slipping fast, turning into a total delinquent, always running wild with street punks and breaking all the rules.
Frank tried to bail Eric out more times than he could count, but in the end, figured it was easier to just wire him some cash every month. As long as Eric didn’t get mixed up in any real illegal stuff, Frank was fine with it.
Eric didn’t say a word. Wayne Ford–the guy in the car–just kept digging, his tone ice cold. “Tell me, Eric, don’t you hate Frank Doyle? If it weren’t for him, your mom wouldn’t have died, your family wouldn’t have fallen to pieces. If your mom had lived, your dad wouldn’t have dumped you for a new wife, no one would’ve laughed at you, and you wouldn’t have dropped out or crashed your whole life. If I were you, I wouldn’t let him keep living so carefree. I hear his kid is in some top–tier school overseas now. You two used to be tight,
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equals, but look at you now–he’s flying high, you’re stuck down here. Look behind you: in this strip, the girls
for a few hundred a night. Your cousin? He’s living it up with foreign chicks. Bet you’ve never even touched go one, have you?”
Comparing yourself to others sucks–especially when it’s this kind of comparison.
Your cousin used to be on the same level as you, and now he’s out there living like a king while you’re barely scraping by. No doubt, Eric hated Frank for it.
If anyone topped Eric’s hate list, it was Frank Doyle.
Wayne waved the check in front of Eric. “If 600 thousand isn’t enough for you, make it 1.2 million. Get it done, and I’ll even get you into a top school overseas.”
Back when Eric heard his cousin was being sent abroad, he’d begged Frank to send him too. But Frank shut it down, no hesitation.
That just made the hate burn hotter in Eric’s gut. Frank never really cared–he wasn’t real family, more like some leftover mess Frank was forced to deal with because of guilt. If it wasn’t for his dead sister’s memory, Frank would’ve ditched him ages ago.
Wayne’s voice came again, cold and impatient. “So, have you made up your mind?”
Malice flickered in Eric’s eyes as he snatched the check. “Just tell me where she’ll be. That’s all I need!”
With the check clenched in his hand, Eric walked away without a second thought.
As the window rolled up, Ken’s lips curled into a cold, satisfied smirk.
When Eric got back to the office, he saw Mark Long was there too. They were running a live–streaming studio these days. Eric only started working with Mark two years back. Mark was his uncle, and he’d ridden the highs and crashed down plenty of times. Used to be rolling in cash, then lost it all, but lately he’d jumped on the live–streaming gold rush and was killing it–pulling in tens of millions a year. Eric just latched onto his uncle for the ride, figuring why not stick with someone who knew how the money moved.
Mark grinned when he saw Eric. “Well? Did you spot any fresh meat today?”
These days, Eric was bouncing from one shady joint to another, always sizing up the hottest girls he could find–girls perfect for sexy adult streams that raked in serious cash. The trick was making sure those ladies weren’t shy about spicing things up; as long as they didn’t mind going all out for the high–rolling viewers, the money just flooded in.
So Eric had to hunt in those kinds of places. Once they’d scouted the right girls, the company would give them a full makeover, spin a story about them being sweet, innocent college cuties, and send them online. The big spenders ate it up–even a single “rocket” gift could be worth $30,000. Their top female streamer could make $300,000 in one wild night.
Eric had been Mark Long’s errand boy for two years now. Mark was stingy as they come–even when Eric landed him the hottest streaming talent, Mark still just tossed him a measly $6,000 a month.
Eric hated it, but what choice did he have? With a rap sheet like his, nobody else would hire him. He’d dropped out ages ago, didn’t have a real degree, just floating through life with nowhere to go
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His spending was out of control, too. If he wanted to play big shot around the girls, he had to shower them with expensive gifts just to keep up the act. But damn, he loved all that attention–the way people flocked around, treating him like somebody important.
Mark clapped Eric on the back.
“Eric, the girls you brought in last month were top–shelf. They’re raking in serious cash every day. But this month? You’re slipping, man. It’s already halfway through and you haven’t scouted a single new talent.”
“Uncle, I’ve already cleaned out all the good prospects in the red–light district. Now it’s nothing but scraps left.”
Mark’s brow furrowed, and his mind instantly drifted to Yolanda. He’d known her over a decade now, but he just couldn’t get her out of his head. ‘Man, if I could just get a taste of her, I’d be living the dream, he thought, a hungry spark flickering in his eyes.
Excitement bubbled up inside him. His net worth was nothing to sneeze at these days–if only Yolanda would finally come over to his side… ‘With her by my side, I’d have it all,‘ Mark fantasized.
“Uncle, you got your eye on someone?” Eric asked, catching the look on Mark’s face.
Mark nodded, swallowing hard. “Remember that girl I mentioned before? Man, she’s freakishly gorgeous— the prettiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. About your age, too. She looks like some kind of porcelain doll.”
Eric’s eyes widened. In these two years bringing in beauty after beauty for their live streams, he’d seen more stunners than he could count. But if Mark was still obsessed with this one, she had to be drop–dead gorgeous -absolutely unreal.
‘Shit, I wanna get with her too,‘ Eric thought, desire flaring hot in his chest.
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Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.
Part 1: The Discovery of BetrayalYolanda Grant’s marriage was built on patience, sacrifice, and quiet endurance — but that illusion shattered in one night. It was late when she arrived at a dark, empty alley after receiving a mysterious message with an address. At first, she thought it was a misunderstanding. After all, her husband Charles Sinclair — a man of wealth, power, and refined taste — would never lower himself to something so vulgar. But when she saw him holding a young woman in his arms, kissing and touching her like a man possessed, every ounce of denial drained from her. Charles, the proud and disciplined businessman, was cheating — and in a filthy alleyway, no less.Part 2: The Scene of HumiliationFrom the safety of her car, Yolanda watched as the scene unfolded. The woman clinging to Charles was frail, trembling, and emotional, like a flower blooming in the mud. The surroundings — the stained floor, damp walls, and suffocating darkness — mocked everything Charles had always claimed to be. This wasn’t just infidelity; it was degradation. Yolanda’s mind swirled with disbelief. Her husband, who obsessed over class and perfection, had become a man of impulse and dirt. She didn’t confront him or make a scene; she didn’t even cry. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, numb, realizing that her marriage was already over in spirit.Part 3: Two Years of DevotionAs she sat there, flashes of the past flooded her mind. Two years of marriage — two years of her trying to please him in every way. She had known from the start that Charles didn’t love her. On their wedding day, he had made it painfully clear that his heart already belonged to another woman. Still, Yolanda married him out of hope, out of love, out of the foolish belief that devotion could melt even the coldest heart. She gave up her career, her ambitions, and her independence, just to prove she was worthy of him. She cared for him like a nurse for her patient — cooking his meals, planning his wardrobe, and tending to every detail of his life. And in return, she got nothing but distance and silence.Part 4: The Breaking PointNow, watching him entwined with another woman, everything she had built inside her — the patience, the sacrifice, the illusion — collapsed. The man she had once called her husband had become unrecognizable. He had torn off his noble mask and revealed himself as nothing more than a beast driven by desire. Yolanda felt like she’d been slapped, her dignity shattered into pieces. But instead of screaming or crying, she felt an eerie calm. Her pain was too deep to express. All she could think was: This marriage must end.Part 5: Charles’s UneaseWhile Yolanda drove home, Charles suddenly sensed that something was wrong. The headlights of a passing car illuminated his face, and a chill ran down his spine. He didn’t know whose car it was, but unease stirred in his chest. The girl in his arms whimpered for his attention, but his mind was already elsewhere. Straightening his clothes, he pulled away coldly. “That’s enough for tonight,” he said flatly. “The company’s got big projects. I can’t afford divorce rumors right now.” His words revealed not love, but calculation — every move guided by image and control. The girl, blinded by her feelings, agreed softly, claiming she would wait. But to Charles, it was just another temporary indulgence.Part 6: The Return HomeWhen Yolanda returned home, the villa felt colder than ever. She had just come out of the shower when Charles entered the bedroom, carrying his jacket. He looked as immaculate as always — tall, handsome, commanding — but tonight, his arrogance seemed cruel. On his pristine white shirt, Yolanda noticed a faint smear of pink lip gloss. She had never worn lip gloss; she hated its stickiness. That small, shiny mark told her everything she needed to know. As she dried her hair, she kept her expression neutral, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.Part 7: The Cold ConversationCharles glanced at her and asked casually, “When did you get back?”“This afternoon,” she replied.He loosened his tie, unbuttoning his shirt as if nothing had happened. “I was out playing golf tonight,” he added. The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. Through the reflection in the window, Yolanda saw the dirt on his back — proof that golf wasn’t the only game he’d been playing. With quiet fury, she shot back, “Then I guess you scored plenty of holes. Congrats.”Her sarcasm caught him off guard. For the first time, he frowned, slightly unsettled. He wasn’t used to this tone from her — the woman who once worshiped him now sounded indifferent, almost mocking.Part 8: His Cruel ArroganceInstead of apologizing, Charles smirked and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Are you mad? I told you when we got married that I didn’t love you. If you’re that unhappy, find someone else to cheat with.” His words cut through her like a blade. It wasn’t just betrayal anymore — it was humiliation. He treated her heartbreak as an inconvenience, as if her pain were irrelevant. Inside, Yolanda’s chest felt like it was being strangled with wire, every breath searing. Yet she stayed silent. Her quietness, once a sign of love, now turned into armor.Part 9: The Memory of InnocenceIn that moment, Yolanda’s mind drifted back to when she first met Charles. She was young, freshly adopted into the Grant family, and he was already the picture of perfection — disciplined, confident, untouchable. Back then, she looked at him with admiration and love. To her, he was everything she aspired to be. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that this same man would someday make her feel worthless. All those years of love, of marriage, of giving — they now felt like a cruel joke.Part 10: A New Beginning Hidden in the Word “Fine”Charles chuckled when she finally said, “Fine.” To him, it was just another empty threat, another outburst that would fade with time. He kissed her cheek, confident that her love would keep her shackled to him forever. What he didn’t realize was that this time, “Fine” wasn’t surrender — it was goodbye. Behind her calm eyes, Yolanda had already made her decision. The love that once bound her had turned to ash, and from that ash, something new was forming — strength.Chapter 1 ends with Yolanda’s quiet determination to take back her life. She won’t cry or beg anymore. This time, she’ll walk away — not as a broken wife, but as a woman reborn through betrayal.
