Can’t Win Me Back

With a piercing gaze, Sheryl glared at Remy, who stood in front of her car with an air of frigidity around him.

The temptation to ram her car into the crestfallen man was almost irresistible, but she didn't dare.

Remy was Justin's right-hand man, and even her audacity had limits.

Instead, Sheryl pulled her white coat snugly around her, stepped out of the car with feigned composure, and strode toward him.

Hostility crackled between them as their eyes locked.

Sheryl broke the silence.

"Remy, is there nothing you'd like to update me about?" she asked with a sinister look in her eyes.

Stiffly, Remy asked, "Where did you take that woman?" "How shameless of you to question me.

Mr. Justin was wise to send me as backup.

Otherwise, Amber would have escaped without a trace!" Gritting her teeth, Sheryl took a step closer to Remy.

The unstoppable Remy, brought to his knees by a wild brat? Or

Remy's gloved hands curled into fists, his

harder than

thought, yet

tall and rigid, her words

his collar, but Remy stepped back, causing

"Remy, I'm warning you—don't you

yours exists only because

the sharks would've devoured you, and your

Mr. Justin's loyal

worse than being shark bait!" Before she could gloat

blur as she spun

a dog?" Remy's glacial stare

word sharp as ice, "If I'm a dog, what does that make you? Nothing but a powerless bitch, all bark and no substance." Sheryl's hands shot to her bloodied nose as tears welled in her

in plastic surgery and monthly maintenance that ran to tens of thousands—and now Remy's punch had left her nose

of what felt like a concussion, pain blazed white-hot

one of Mr.

would have been enough reason to slit your