Husband’s Mistress, Meet His Bankruptcy - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

I hung up the phone and glanced at the wall clock, counting silently in my head.
One… Two… Three…
Before I hit ten, the door exploded open with a deafening crash. A swarm of armed officers flooded in, surrounding everyone in seconds. A middle-aged man in a sharp tuxedo stepped forward, his commanding presence sucking the air out of the room.
Dead silence.
Holly, completely misreading the situation, adjusted her collar and scurried forward with a sycophantic grin.
"Mr. Oswald! Here to welcome Miss King too?"
The second his name left her mouth, the atmosphere shifted like a switch had been flipped.
James went rigid. The color drained from his face as he subtly ducked behind . The other guests exchanged nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably.
Only I stayed seated, fingers drumming the table in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Greg Oswald's piercing gaze swept the room before locking onto me. His posture relaxed slightly, but a flicker of unease crossed his face.
"Miss Hawking," he said, voice heavy with concern. "Who hurt you?"
I smiled, lazily pointing at Holly.
"Her."
Holly barely had time to blink before officers yanked her down, slamming her face-first into the floor.
"Wait—what the hell?!" she screeched, writhing like a caught fish. "Mr. Oswald, this is a mistake! I'm Miss King's assistant—you can't do this!"
finally stepped forward at the mention of her name, arms crossed, oozing condescension.
"Listen, old man," she sneered. "I'm King—Los Angeles Kings. Let my girl go, and maybe I won't ruin your career over this."
Greg didn't even look at her. Just flicked his wrist like swatting a fly.
"Take her."
Holly was dragged out, shrieking.
From door slam to Holly's exit—ten seconds flat. The room sat in stunned silence, guests exchanging shell-shocked whispers.
"What the actual hell just happened?"
"Since when does the cabinet intervene in corporate crap?"
"Jesus, Oswald doesn't move for trophy wives. This is nuclear."
"Shut your mouth," someone hissed. "We're in deep shit if he doesn't fix this."
's face burned crimson, fists trembling. Her glare could've melted steel.
"You psychotic bitch!" she spat. "You just made an enemy of the King family!"
I smirked, tilting my head.
"Miss King," I said sweetly, "that was the warm-up. You're next."
Dad always said people like her thought money made them invincible. The only cure? Out-crazy them.
Leaning back, I flicked a hand. "I told you to stop name-dropping your family. Go ahead—call them. See if they'll save you."
's smirk faltered, but she snatched her phone, dialing with a dramatic hair toss.
"Cameron? It's . Dig up everything on some San Diego nobody—Eleanor Hawking."
A pause. Then, clear as day from across the room, Cameron's voice erupted:
"Are you out of your damn mind?! I can't even access her file!"
I burst out laughing. 's face twisted. Furious, she redialed, voice dripping honey.
"Uncle Rommel! How've you been?"
She buttered him up for a full minute before dropping the act.
"I've got a situation in San Diego. Can you… help?"
Poor thing. She had no clue. There wasn't a single call in the world that'd save her now.
And God, was I gonna enjoy watching her figure that out.