HAYE

the pathetic victim act. I wiped my face, straightened my sp

avy oak door with a brass

k. I pushed t

man who looked more like a Wall Street executive than an Outlaw biker. When he saw me wa

, not standing up. He respected s

e. "I need a trusted fence. Someone who deals in high-end luxury

des you with an unlimited black card, Mrs. Beaumont. Why would you need to fence

ear. He thought I was

ng my past, Alfred. I am taking back every single expensive mistake I gifted to the leeches in my life, and

d studied my eyes, searching for the spoiled,

a contact. He'll give you

t. "I'll have the goods de

garage. The heavy scent of motor oil, gasoline, and hot metal filled my lungs. It

s until I reached a dark, dusty corner. I grab

chipped, and the chrome was dulled with dust, but its aggressive, beautifu

hrow this "piece of junk" into the scrapyard

helpless, delicate doll, I was a natural gearhead. I knew every bolt and piston of a V-twin engine, a talent inherited

I realized Axel had been quietly maintaining it all this time, preserving

ricked

o the bike, my voice trembling but resolute.

herie: "Everything is packed. I dropped the boxes

every credit card she owned to buy back the bags sh

es straight into Alfred's office. I didn't ke

. "Fence it all. I want it liquidated as fast as possible, and I want the fund

rofessionally. "I will handle it personally, Old Lady.

you,

ast finally handed off, I walked ba

gly sweet pink silk sheets, the frilly floral curtains, and the ridiculous fluffy ru

me to cle