Mr. Villain's Lovely Wife

Chapter 117

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“You sure you don’t want me to take care of this mess?” Liam lifed an eyebrow as he stared at Izzy’s calm expression.

Izzy shook her head as she swirled the wine in her glass. She watched the liquid coat the sides before taking a slow sip. She leaned back against the couch, stretching her legs out. Just like her, Liam was wearing a robe, his posture relaxed, though she knew better than to mistake it for complacency.

“You could,” Izzy admitted, tilting her head slightly as Liam reached for her legs. His fingers pressed into the sole of her foot. kneading the tension away. She exhaled softly, allowing herself to enjoy the sensation. “But why rush?”

Liam’s thumbs worked against a particularly sore spot, and he smirked when he felt her toes curl. “Because I don’t see the point in dragging this out. You want Monica to pay–I can make it happen tonight.” He met her gaze. “No loose ends.”

Izzy watched him for a moment, then smiled. “And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t.” She shifted slightly, adjusting her position as she placed her empty wine glass on the side table. “Don’t you think it’s better this way? Watching them scramble, thinking they have the upper hand, only to realize–too late–that they never had a chance?”

Liam’s fingers slowed, his grip steady as he traced slow circles against her ankle. “You’d rather draw it out?”

Izzy leaned forward, propping her elbow on the armrest. “I’d rather make sure they feel every second of their failure.” Her smile widened, her fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. “I Monica or Cecil were to disappear tonight, what then? A few weeks of grief? Maybe some forced sympathy from Amalia? That’s too easy.”

Liam tilted his head, watching her.

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“But if she keeps losing,” Izzy continued, her gaze gleaming with amusement. “If she watches every opportunity slip through her fingers, if she thinks she’s finally secured something, only to have it ripped away at the last moment… That’s real punishment.”

Liam exhaled through his nose, his hand sliding up to her calf. “And here I thought I was the ruthless one.”

Izzy’s lips twitched. She reached forward, dragging her nails lightly down his forearm. “You still are.”

He studied her, his fingers pressing against the delicate skin of her ankle. “So we let them suffer.”

Izzy nodded, her smile never faltering. “Slowly. Deliberately. Let them think they have a fighting chance. Let them get desperate. Because when people are desperate, they make mistakes.” She reached for her wine glass again, though she didn’t take a sip. Instead, she twirled the stem between her fingers. “Cecil thinks she’s untouchable. She’s spent years manipulating people, controlling everything. But she’s never played this game against someone like me.”

of her ankle. “You want her to

her to destroy herself,” Izzy corrected. “I want her to think she’s winning, to believe she’s one step ahead, only to realize she was dancing in the palm of

his grip on her leg before pulling her closer, his knee brushing against hers. “Remind me never to get on

glass to her lips. “Oh, Liam,” she said, taking a slow sip. “You never stood a chance if you

tightening ever so slightly before he leaned in. “Neither

reply. She didn’t need

Wed, Feb

Chapter 117

and Monica’s suffering was just beginning

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broken things off with Calen and taken the thing

project; she had no energy left to plan how to make them suffer. However, Monira just had

action.

actually brought

eyes and started to relax. However, this brief moment of peace was interrupted by

he saw that it was Mondo.

hissed. Seeing his reaction, Izzy straightened her back. Did

the nearby table. His fingers moved swiftly across the screen, his expression darkening. Within

leaned forward, watching as Monica’s tear–streaked face

clutched a tissue in her trembling hands. “She took everything from me–my dignity, my future, my child.” She hiccupped, lowering her head as if overcome with grief. “I tried to move on. I

flooded

Monster.

Rossi is

be

Justice for Monica!

Sue her ass!

her fingers against the armrest. How predictable.