Chaz slapped Helen across the face, leaving her seeing stars.

“You asked for it!” he bellowed. “Take her away!”

While Helen was being shoved into a BMW, a black Maybach drove into The Dynasty’s parking lot as well.

Vicky was riding shotgun dressed in a bewitching purple dress, watching Frank as she asked, “Henry Lane’s funeral will be held in a few days. Are you attending it?”

“Yeah.” Frank nodded somberly. “He saved my life. No matter what the Lanes did, I’ll send him off one last time.”

It has been three days, and he had gathered himself by now.

Vicky nodded with a smile. Just as she was going to start talking about what they should drink, she frowned as she spotted a single stiletto in the middle of the parking lot.

“What the heck?”

her woman’s intuition left

could tell that it was

Screech!

a black BMW that was driving from the opposite side stopped beside their

well?” Chaz whistled pointedly at Frank, in a good mood even as he glanced at Helen who was

Frank snapped, which immediately left Chaz’s

turned toward Vicky, raising his brow repeatedly and flirtatiously. “Forgive me for being Frank, Ms. Turnbull, but keeping your gigolo would eventually lead to your family’s downfall. You really should dump him while you

for the tip, but I think you can mind your own

back to Southstream and lap up what’s left of it?” Vicky’s tone was

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