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Not His Old Lady Anymore
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.It was late at night.
A bolt of fierce lightning flashed and lit up the whole sky.
The storm that had been brewing for the last 24 hours had finally ripped open the skies and a torrential rain lashed down, forming the backdrop for Charlotte Shao's curses.
"You bastard!
I hope you have a torturous death!"
"Remember, the name is Oliver Shen!" said the man in front of her arrogantly.
"Oliver Shen!"
Charlotte Shao was stunned momentarily. His name kept flashing in her mind like a siren. She took an oath to destroy his life.
At the police station...
The two policemen on duty were idly chatting with each other.
The door opened with a click.
They looked in the direction of the door and saw a young girl walking in shakily. She looked as delicate as a porcelain doll, but her hair and clothes were messed up as if she had been in a scuffle.
The two policemen exchanged a look with each other. Before they could inquire why she was there, she announced,
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