Chapter 153

“I know you’re capable,” James sneered at Vincent with a contemptuous glint in his eye. “You managed to put her behind bars five years ago. What’s stopping you from doing anything else? James looked on indifferently as Vincent downed his glass of bourbon in one gulo and stood up to leave the dimly lit room of the old pub.

Alone now, Vincent sat in oppressive silence. Abruptly, he snapped, kicking over the bottles of liquor on the table, his rage turning into a frenzy as he smashed anything within reach.

Five years ago, that damn trial had become Vincent’s worst nightmare.

For five long years, Kristin had been locked away, and he’d been haunted by dreams of her. He saw her in the courtroom, her eyes filled with despair and resignation as she said, “I plead guilty.”

Vincent had lost control, shouting to withdraw the charges, insisting he no longer accused Kristin. He claimed he had given her the money willingly.

But the gavel had fallen, and the judge had pronounced the sentence. All Vincent could do was watch helplessly as the police took her away.

“Vincent, does ruining me make you happy? If so, then I’ll plead guilty.”

“Kristin, you have to atone for your sins.”

“Vincent, I’m not guilty.”

Once, Vincent had been Kristin’s salvation. But eventually, he became her personal hell.

At Rhett’s apartment.

Wrapped in a bath towel, Kristin stood shivering at the bathroom door, glancing around nervously. She stepped onto the bath mat, her bare feet cold against the tile, her head bowed

in anxiety.

Moving into Rhett’s place so suddenly had left her on edge, so much so that she forgot to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom.

Twisting her feet together in a fluster, Kristin felt too apprehensive to disturb Rhett.

Rhett was clad in a silk robe, talking on the phone by the floor–to–ceiling windows to York.

Through the reflection in the glass, he could see Kristin’s discomfort.

built in his

the office tomorrow? Don’t worry about the shareholder vote.

line, York called out several times, but

11.1

“Mr. FitzGerald?”

“Go to bed. Don’t call me at

without understanding why. “Mr. FitzGerald, didn’t you call

another word, Rhett

of Harborside Haven Airport, stared at his disconnected

than ever, unpredictable, but unmistakably alive. “Mr. FitzGerald…” Seeing Rhett turn to look at her, Kristin

flush, resembling a delicate

was husky, his magnetic

grey robe that outlined the contours of his muscled chest…

only enhanced his devilish

gaze, felt like her heart was racing

contractual wife,

Kristin stammered, unsure how

medicine?” Rhett approached, his hand reaching out to touch her forehead, his voice deep, revealing no particular emotion

Kristin nodded.

let out a sigh of

can…” Kristin began timidly, her hands fumbling with the towel, ready to fulfill

his voice rough and low as he spoke. “I won’t touch you tonight,

her ears burning even redder.

Rhett was sober tonight. Did he despise her

Kristin

she wished she could

feeling that any further provocation could lead to something uncontrollable…

arm, Rhett said in a resigned tone, “I’m

Chapter 153

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