TOP UP

Reading History

Sign out

Get the APP

Not His Old Lady Anymore

Chapter 4

Word Count: 753 | Released on: 03/09/2026

the hall tow

y, as if I were wad

pointment had drain

e after m

n't grab me, but

His tone wasn't angry an

hing left to

nd him, but he moved

!" he growled. "You know how importa

eyes like chips of ice. "But you seem to

him speechless

for so long that he'd forgotten i

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,

ldn't

y hide behin

ves you everything you have! Your family name might mean some

d it so bluntly, reminding me of the

ub with money and legal, and

my heart, so tight I

with so much pride, the one with t

identity, and the invisib

ght sparked

y stepped

o slap him, but to grab

caught him

ively took

oing?" he asked

cut was a sign of immense disrespect, unless

was pure

even as I stared into his eyes. "Wh

ils con

rained from

what did

your patch back, a

ith a terri

ld Lady to "give back the

lete

powerful than givi

er imagined I wo

hing my face for any s

und n

as steady

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

e also filled with the deep-seated ar

n't s

t smi

our problem t

ollar, walked around hi

, he didn

a statue, a look of shock and...

was a canar

grown my own wings in a

door, leaning against it as my b

illed with a stran

were on

s his

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Not His Old Lady Anymore

Lian Lian Romance

“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.”