Not His Old Lady Anymore

Chapter 4

Word Count: 753 | Released on: Today at 11:54

lt heavy, as if I were wading through water. The an

. This time he didn't gra

" His tone wasn't angry

out." I tried to step around him

!" he growled. "You know how importa

eyes like chips of ice. "But you seem to

ad taken my work for granted for so long that h

eath, trying to regain control. "Go back now, pick u

dity of it stealing my breath. "You move your mistress in across

ess!" he yelled, his anger flari

ice for your debt?" I asked,

ush your luck! Don't you forget who gives you everything you have! Your family n

of the true nature of our arranged marriage. My family had provid

my heart, so tight I

one with the large serpent patch on the back. It was the sym

ght sparked

and shot out, not to slap him, b

ff guard. He instincti

oing?" he asked

sign of immense disrespect, unless she was his Old Lady

ven as I stared into his eyes. "Wha

color drained from his face

I said it with a terrifying calm. In the MC world, for an Ol

iving up the finances. He had never

hing my face for any s

My gaze was s

ou can survive in San Redemption without me, without the Serpents? The Vipe

e also filled with the deep-seated ar

smiled. "That's not your

ollar, walked around hi

, he didn

a statue, a look of shock and...

He never knew that I had grown my o

nst it as my body finally started to tremble. But

on the table. I

Chapter End

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Not His Old Lady Anymore

Lian Lian Mafia

“I was the President's Old Lady - and the only reason his MC was still breathing. For three years, I ran every legal business the Serpents of Redemption owned. While Craig chased road glory across state lines, I turned a failing auto shop and a tattoo parlor into the money that kept the brothers fed, the bikes fueled, and the clubhouse lights on. Then he rode home from a two-month run with a sweetbutt on the back of his Harley - and her son. Ginger, he said, had saved his life on the road. So he put her in the main residence, in the room directly across from our bed. He handed her my ledgers and called it repayment. When her son dumped a cup of scalding coffee over my hand, Craig never checked my burns. He scooped up the boy and blamed me. His grandmother - the club's Matriarch - stood before every patched brother and accused me of hurting "family." That night, Craig told me Ginger held a place in his heart I could never reach. A debt of blood he'd honor above me. Three years. My family's fortune. My scarred hand. All of it - worthless next to his roadside savior. So I did the one thing a President never expects his Old Lady to do. I gave back his patch. Now they can keep their empty ledgers. They can play happy family in a clubhouse I built. And when this motorcycle club burns - I'll be the one holding the match.”