My Latin Dancer Wife - Chapter 10: Chapter 10
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"Kyle, let me be blunt—your condition is serious enough to constitute fraud. Hiding a premarital illness? I stand by my daughter's decision to divorce you."
"If you were impotent, you should've said so from the start! We were counting on grandchildren. How dare you deceive us like this?"
Fiona's parents were progressive, but even they had their limits. Being lied to crossed the line. They fully supported Fiona ending the marriage.
Kyle shook with rage. That night, he rallied his lowlife friends and barged into my apartment, fists flying.
I didn't fight back. I curled into a ball, arms shielding my head as kicks and punches rained down.
When they finally stopped, Kyle leaned in, breath hot with spite. "You pathetic worm. Let me spell it out for you—in this city, I own the game. My boys will hunt you down every time you show your face. The cops? They're on my payroll. Go ahead, call them. See how far that gets you."
I'd been waiting for this.
My apartment was wired. The second they left, Lola helped me file the assault report.
Kyle and his goons were arrested within hours.
At the hospital, I played the dazed victim. "I don't remember... My head... Everything hurts..."
The medical report didn't lie: facial trauma, a fractured tibia, a concussion—enough for a Level 2 Injury charge.
As the instigator, Kyle was looking at three years minimum.
His parents scrambled to my bedside, collapsing to their knees. "Kevin, we know our son was wrong. He ruined your marriage. But please—have mercy on two heartbroken parents. Spare him just this once!"
"Everyone makes mistakes!" His mother kowtowed, forehead thudding against the floor. "We're begging you!"
For a second, I almost caved. Almost.
But sympathy wouldn't cut it. Kyle's parents had enabled him. They'd cheered as he torched my life—only now, with their golden boy facing prison, did regret kick in.
I met their desperate stares. "I'll sign the forgiveness letter... if Kyle confesses how he conspired with Lola to frame me for cheating. I want proof—texts, payment records, everything. Get me that, and we'll talk."
"Deal! We'll make it happen!"
Frantic, they strong-armed Kyle and Lola into handing over the evidence.
The records were damning: Kyle had promised Lola $5,000 and the troupe's lead role to seduce me. Chat logs, bank transfers—it was all there.
I smirked, tucking the documents away. "Thanks. Now I can finally clear my name."
"The letter?" his father pressed.
I smiled. "Your son committed a crime. Prison's where he belongs."
Kyle's mother gaped. "You—you promised!"
"I said I'd consider it. And I have. A snake like Kyle? He deserves every second behind bars."
Her face twisted into something feral.
"You lying bastard!" she screeched, morphing into a banshee. "I curse you! Die alone, die miserable! You're destroying my boy! Everyone, look at this monster!"
I nearly laughed.
Thank God I didn't back down.
The apple didn't fall far.
Ignoring her meltdown, I dialed the police.
When the officers arrived, Kyle's mother yanked her hair loose, popped two buttons to flash her bra, and wailed, "Officer, he assaulted me!"
Pathetic. But predictable.
"If you were impotent, you should've said so from the start! We were counting on grandchildren. How dare you deceive us like this?"
Fiona's parents were progressive, but even they had their limits. Being lied to crossed the line. They fully supported Fiona ending the marriage.
Kyle shook with rage. That night, he rallied his lowlife friends and barged into my apartment, fists flying.
I didn't fight back. I curled into a ball, arms shielding my head as kicks and punches rained down.
When they finally stopped, Kyle leaned in, breath hot with spite. "You pathetic worm. Let me spell it out for you—in this city, I own the game. My boys will hunt you down every time you show your face. The cops? They're on my payroll. Go ahead, call them. See how far that gets you."
I'd been waiting for this.
My apartment was wired. The second they left, Lola helped me file the assault report.
Kyle and his goons were arrested within hours.
At the hospital, I played the dazed victim. "I don't remember... My head... Everything hurts..."
The medical report didn't lie: facial trauma, a fractured tibia, a concussion—enough for a Level 2 Injury charge.
As the instigator, Kyle was looking at three years minimum.
His parents scrambled to my bedside, collapsing to their knees. "Kevin, we know our son was wrong. He ruined your marriage. But please—have mercy on two heartbroken parents. Spare him just this once!"
"Everyone makes mistakes!" His mother kowtowed, forehead thudding against the floor. "We're begging you!"
For a second, I almost caved. Almost.
But sympathy wouldn't cut it. Kyle's parents had enabled him. They'd cheered as he torched my life—only now, with their golden boy facing prison, did regret kick in.
I met their desperate stares. "I'll sign the forgiveness letter... if Kyle confesses how he conspired with Lola to frame me for cheating. I want proof—texts, payment records, everything. Get me that, and we'll talk."
"Deal! We'll make it happen!"
Frantic, they strong-armed Kyle and Lola into handing over the evidence.
The records were damning: Kyle had promised Lola $5,000 and the troupe's lead role to seduce me. Chat logs, bank transfers—it was all there.
I smirked, tucking the documents away. "Thanks. Now I can finally clear my name."
"The letter?" his father pressed.
I smiled. "Your son committed a crime. Prison's where he belongs."
Kyle's mother gaped. "You—you promised!"
"I said I'd consider it. And I have. A snake like Kyle? He deserves every second behind bars."
Her face twisted into something feral.
"You lying bastard!" she screeched, morphing into a banshee. "I curse you! Die alone, die miserable! You're destroying my boy! Everyone, look at this monster!"
I nearly laughed.
Thank God I didn't back down.
The apple didn't fall far.
Ignoring her meltdown, I dialed the police.
When the officers arrived, Kyle's mother yanked her hair loose, popped two buttons to flash her bra, and wailed, "Officer, he assaulted me!"
Pathetic. But predictable.
End of My Latin Dancer Wife Chapter 10. Continue reading Chapter 11 or return to My Latin Dancer Wife book page.