Becoming the Old Lady of My Ex's Mortal Enemy

ley

... what if s

ild ride, and she's not here to appreciate i

giggles was the rhythmic, agonizing sq

s, my father's legacy, feeling every dr

ated my masterpiece-the custom Harley I'd spen

sident of his club, was tangled up with Roxanne "Roxy" Schneider,

his favorite glazed donuts-our unspoken weekend tradition. Now,

er jacket was tossed on the g

symbolizing his power-was crumpled beneath them. The disrespectful weight

ezing, bone-piercing rage that shot stra

h, and recorded thirty full seconds of hig

el toolbox nearby. Without a second of hesitation, I lifted m

NG!

l screws, wrenches, and sockets exploded a

apart like frightened rats, fran

aught, only the blind fury of having his fun interr

ping with contempt and provocation. "Oh, poor little thing. Did we interrupt you

oenix," now smudged with their greasy handprints and ruined by their presence.

he motorcycle and pulled a f

roared, putting up a tough front,

ee and, with practiced, surgical precision, plunged the kni

is

ly, drowning the phoenix I had painstakingly airbrus

f warm donuts into the puddle o

the two of you. A pil

and Roxy's terrified shrieks, I tu

without lo

't give a damn about d

fire in my chest. The garage was tainted, and m

down trailer, instantly assaulted by the

plastering a fake, anxious look on her fac

sharks, and the debt was due. The price to clear i

rayal I had just witnessed merged with the pure absu

la

icious, echoing slap right acros

me?!" I gritted out, ever

ing zero shame. Instead, she s

th some bosses to pay off my debt such a big deal? You're a little biker brat

the tool belt on the wall, turned, and smash

ed, sending glass shards a

r. I looked at her like she was already a corpse. "Why don't you se

ped the wrench, slammed the door, an