Sexy Gym Owner Lady - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading Sexy Gym Owner Lady, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of Sexy Gym Owner Lady.
I shrugged it off. "He said it was no big deal—just stumbled onto something by accident. Vincent paid him off and decided to use him."
My brother raised an eyebrow. "Did you fact-check that, or are we taking his word for it?"
I hesitated. "It's... just what he told me."
My brother asked for the guy's contact info and told me to pull all the gym's surveillance footage for the next few days.
No clue what he had in mind, but he's never steered me wrong. I trusted him completely.
The next day, after securing the footage, the lawyer wrapped up the divorce terms.
"Given everything," he said, "this is the best we could get—Vincent walks away with under 1.2 million."
I scanned the papers and fired them off to Vincent.
Chump change for me, but the idea of that bastard getting a single penny made me see red.
With a sigh, I zipped the surveillance files and sent them to my brother.
His reply was instant: "Got it." Then: "You seen Bianca lately?"
"Nope. Probably hiding in some love nest with Vincent, too chicken to look me in the eye."
"Try to meet her. I've got a hunch—that pregnancy might be bullshit. Or the kid isn't even his."
My chest constricted. Fingers stumbling over the keys, I switched to voice text: "What aren't you telling me? Did you find something?"
His response was a voice note. "Bianca and Troy—the guy who squeezed 50K out of you—might've known each other. Could've been dating. No idea if they're still together."
The room tilted. It took me a full minute to type back: "So... they're the real couple? And Bianca and my ex were just... con artists?"
Sitting there, pieces clicked. Troy had been relentless—most would've settled for 30K, but he'd pushed like he knew exactly how deep my pockets were.
And Bianca? I'd only seen her once. Who even was she?
Decision made, I called Vincent.
He picked up. I didn't bother with hellos. "Read the papers?"
His voice dripped smugness. "Always so generous, darling. Bianca and the baby appreciate it."
I clenched my jaw. "Bring your side piece to meet me."
Silence. Then: "Relax. I won't touch her. Just wanna see what's so irresistible it made you lose your damn mind."
He exhaled, agreed—then called back minutes later. Bianca refused, and he "wouldn't pressure her."
How... romantic.
Fine. I'd tried playing nice. Now? Gloves off.
Next morning, Vincent was already blowing up my phone to finalize the divorce. I told him to wait.
I was waiting on my brother's intel.
Dawn brought two encrypted files with his message: "Got enough."
Turns out, Bianca and Troy had been a thing for at least three years. Status unclear.
Vincent and I dated for a year before marrying last May. Bianca joined the gym around New Year's—zeroed in on him, and within a month, they were screwing.
One file had restored footage showing exactly who stole my underwear.
Bianca. And she'd handed it to Troy.
She'd covered her bases—if I hadn't slept with Troy, the underwear alone could've framed me.
Troy's plan backfired when I caught him and paid for silence.
No footage of Bianca planting them on me—she'd used a blind spot.
But the kicker? Troy was a gambling addict with a brothel habit. All in the last two years.
So... while possibly still with Bianca, he'd been betting and buying hookers?
Wait.
A thought detonated in my brain.
My brother raised an eyebrow. "Did you fact-check that, or are we taking his word for it?"
I hesitated. "It's... just what he told me."
My brother asked for the guy's contact info and told me to pull all the gym's surveillance footage for the next few days.
No clue what he had in mind, but he's never steered me wrong. I trusted him completely.
The next day, after securing the footage, the lawyer wrapped up the divorce terms.
"Given everything," he said, "this is the best we could get—Vincent walks away with under 1.2 million."
I scanned the papers and fired them off to Vincent.
Chump change for me, but the idea of that bastard getting a single penny made me see red.
With a sigh, I zipped the surveillance files and sent them to my brother.
His reply was instant: "Got it." Then: "You seen Bianca lately?"
"Nope. Probably hiding in some love nest with Vincent, too chicken to look me in the eye."
"Try to meet her. I've got a hunch—that pregnancy might be bullshit. Or the kid isn't even his."
My chest constricted. Fingers stumbling over the keys, I switched to voice text: "What aren't you telling me? Did you find something?"
His response was a voice note. "Bianca and Troy—the guy who squeezed 50K out of you—might've known each other. Could've been dating. No idea if they're still together."
The room tilted. It took me a full minute to type back: "So... they're the real couple? And Bianca and my ex were just... con artists?"
Sitting there, pieces clicked. Troy had been relentless—most would've settled for 30K, but he'd pushed like he knew exactly how deep my pockets were.
And Bianca? I'd only seen her once. Who even was she?
Decision made, I called Vincent.
He picked up. I didn't bother with hellos. "Read the papers?"
His voice dripped smugness. "Always so generous, darling. Bianca and the baby appreciate it."
I clenched my jaw. "Bring your side piece to meet me."
Silence. Then: "Relax. I won't touch her. Just wanna see what's so irresistible it made you lose your damn mind."
He exhaled, agreed—then called back minutes later. Bianca refused, and he "wouldn't pressure her."
How... romantic.
Fine. I'd tried playing nice. Now? Gloves off.
Next morning, Vincent was already blowing up my phone to finalize the divorce. I told him to wait.
I was waiting on my brother's intel.
Dawn brought two encrypted files with his message: "Got enough."
Turns out, Bianca and Troy had been a thing for at least three years. Status unclear.
Vincent and I dated for a year before marrying last May. Bianca joined the gym around New Year's—zeroed in on him, and within a month, they were screwing.
One file had restored footage showing exactly who stole my underwear.
Bianca. And she'd handed it to Troy.
She'd covered her bases—if I hadn't slept with Troy, the underwear alone could've framed me.
Troy's plan backfired when I caught him and paid for silence.
No footage of Bianca planting them on me—she'd used a blind spot.
But the kicker? Troy was a gambling addict with a brothel habit. All in the last two years.
So... while possibly still with Bianca, he'd been betting and buying hookers?
Wait.
A thought detonated in my brain.
End of Sexy Gym Owner Lady Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to Sexy Gym Owner Lady book page.