Sexy Gym Owner Lady - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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I may have misjudged Vincent Evans, but I'm no fool when it comes to human nature.
Troy Lawrence? He worships money far more than he'll ever love Bianca Valentine.
That $1.2 million I lost in the divorce might be gone, but I wasn't about to let it go to waste.
So I called Troy with an offer: "How'd you like to walk away with $2.4 million instead?"
The man damn near choked on his own greed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
I set up a meeting. He agreed before I even finished speaking.
By the time I strolled into the café, Troy was already there, practically vibrating in his seat. Money always got his blood pumping.
I took my sweet time ordering my coffee, watching him squirm. He was dying to rush me but too desperate to risk pissing me off.
Finally, after a slow sip, I leaned in. "You and Bianca are in this together, aren't you? Planning to take Vincent's money and disappear?"
His face went slack, like a deer in headlights.
"Relax," I purred. "I'm here to make you richer."
He eyed me like I was setting a trap. So I laid it out. "You know I gave Vincent $1.2 million in the divorce. Soon, Bianca's going to transfer that money to herself. Even if she splits it with you, you're only walking away with $600K. And honestly? I'd rather she got nothing."
I rested my chin on my hand, smiling. "Wouldn't you rather keep the full $1.2 million for yourself? Love's overrated—cash lasts forever."
He swallowed hard, but I didn't let him speak. "Ditch Bianca. Leave her broke. Not only do you keep the full $1.2 million, but I'll double it. That's $2.4 million, all yours."
His brain short-circuited right in front of me.
"With $1.2 million, you could live like a king. With $2.4 million? You could disappear to another country and buy yourself an entire harem. Bianca would never find you." I pulled out my phone, feigning boredom. "So? Tempted?"
For a second, he just stared. Then his head started nodding like a broken bobblehead.
"The second that money hits your account, you call me. The faster, the better."
I left him there, giddy with greed.
As soon as I was out of sight, I called Vincent. "Meet me at the Civil Affairs Bureau."
He looked like he'd won the lottery when he got that divorce certificate.
"Wishing you happiness," I said sweetly. "Don't regret it."
The next day, the money transferred to Vincent. I put the whole mess behind me.
For the next week, I drowned myself in tequila with my girls, stumbling home drunk and sobbing more times than I cared to admit. How many more benders would it take to scrub Vincent from my brain?
But time moves on.
Two weeks later, Troy texted me—mission accomplished. He was practically drooling, demanding his extra $1.2 million.
"Be patient," I told him. "My finances are tied up."
Not that he'd live long enough to see a dime.
The next day, cops raided a brothel and hauled Troy off in cuffs. His gambling history came to light.
Funny how that happened—right after I tipped them off.
So Troy went to prison.
The money was still technically his, but he couldn't touch it. And as long as he refused to let Bianca near it? She was locked out.
I bet she's losing her damn mind. The thought still makes me grin.
Two months later, Vincent found out the truth. Got drunk, beat Bianca half to death in a rage.
She almost lost the baby—but it survived.
"Except," I told my brother with a smirk, "it's not Vincent's."
The satisfaction was chef's kiss.
"Wonder if she can even sleep at night. No money, no future. If she aborts it, Vincent will never forgive her. But if she tries to claim Troy's money to raise the kid? She'll have to admit it's his."
Poetic justice tastes so sweet.
Troy Lawrence? He worships money far more than he'll ever love Bianca Valentine.
That $1.2 million I lost in the divorce might be gone, but I wasn't about to let it go to waste.
So I called Troy with an offer: "How'd you like to walk away with $2.4 million instead?"
The man damn near choked on his own greed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
I set up a meeting. He agreed before I even finished speaking.
By the time I strolled into the café, Troy was already there, practically vibrating in his seat. Money always got his blood pumping.
I took my sweet time ordering my coffee, watching him squirm. He was dying to rush me but too desperate to risk pissing me off.
Finally, after a slow sip, I leaned in. "You and Bianca are in this together, aren't you? Planning to take Vincent's money and disappear?"
His face went slack, like a deer in headlights.
"Relax," I purred. "I'm here to make you richer."
He eyed me like I was setting a trap. So I laid it out. "You know I gave Vincent $1.2 million in the divorce. Soon, Bianca's going to transfer that money to herself. Even if she splits it with you, you're only walking away with $600K. And honestly? I'd rather she got nothing."
I rested my chin on my hand, smiling. "Wouldn't you rather keep the full $1.2 million for yourself? Love's overrated—cash lasts forever."
He swallowed hard, but I didn't let him speak. "Ditch Bianca. Leave her broke. Not only do you keep the full $1.2 million, but I'll double it. That's $2.4 million, all yours."
His brain short-circuited right in front of me.
"With $1.2 million, you could live like a king. With $2.4 million? You could disappear to another country and buy yourself an entire harem. Bianca would never find you." I pulled out my phone, feigning boredom. "So? Tempted?"
For a second, he just stared. Then his head started nodding like a broken bobblehead.
"The second that money hits your account, you call me. The faster, the better."
I left him there, giddy with greed.
As soon as I was out of sight, I called Vincent. "Meet me at the Civil Affairs Bureau."
He looked like he'd won the lottery when he got that divorce certificate.
"Wishing you happiness," I said sweetly. "Don't regret it."
The next day, the money transferred to Vincent. I put the whole mess behind me.
For the next week, I drowned myself in tequila with my girls, stumbling home drunk and sobbing more times than I cared to admit. How many more benders would it take to scrub Vincent from my brain?
But time moves on.
Two weeks later, Troy texted me—mission accomplished. He was practically drooling, demanding his extra $1.2 million.
"Be patient," I told him. "My finances are tied up."
Not that he'd live long enough to see a dime.
The next day, cops raided a brothel and hauled Troy off in cuffs. His gambling history came to light.
Funny how that happened—right after I tipped them off.
So Troy went to prison.
The money was still technically his, but he couldn't touch it. And as long as he refused to let Bianca near it? She was locked out.
I bet she's losing her damn mind. The thought still makes me grin.
Two months later, Vincent found out the truth. Got drunk, beat Bianca half to death in a rage.
She almost lost the baby—but it survived.
"Except," I told my brother with a smirk, "it's not Vincent's."
The satisfaction was chef's kiss.
"Wonder if she can even sleep at night. No money, no future. If she aborts it, Vincent will never forgive her. But if she tries to claim Troy's money to raise the kid? She'll have to admit it's his."
Poetic justice tastes so sweet.
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