Ninety Days Left: The Dying Wife's Revenge

ed open the heavy iron gates and walked up the long driveway. The cold air b

nd foyer and walked towa

ailored charcoal suit, looking every bit the ruthless CEO of Sinclair Corporation. Hi

p under her eyes, and the slight unsteadiness in

glass coffee table, unzipped her bag, and pulled out

the glass. The loud smack

ed-out section and landed on the handwritten demand in the

is what it comes down to. You finally drop the devo

"Sign it, Lucian. I want the money wir

at swallowed her whole. He closed the distance between them in two strid

fingers pressing hard into her jawbone. He

angerous whisper. "Who are you planning to spend it on, Tessa

apping with Lucian's angry face. A sharp pain stabbed at her stomach.

wasted in this mausoleum," she said, her voice dripping

to pitch black. He spun around, marched back to t

idn't care about the money. He cared that she was using his money to pay the escort

and threw it at her feet. "Take yo

of her failing organs, and picked up the pa

back up at him. "One more thing. We sign a non-disclosure

armor. "Still trying to hold onto the prestige of being Mrs. Sincla

rect him. She turned and wa

ase. She wore a simple trench coat and flat shoes. She had left all th

eld up a hand, stopping him. She gripped the handle of t

used for a fraction of a second. She did not tur

ut behind her, sealing off th

phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. It was a notification from

ips. She opened the Signal a

e cafe at 3 PM. We need

ng rideshare, and left Long