Free from her ex-husband, she unveiled her hidden identities, dazzling the world and thriving. The regretful ex chased after her, a diamond ring in hand, pleading for reconciliation. But a business tycoon had him dragged away, saying, "Piss off. She's my wife." ===== "Let's end this marriage." That single sentence was all it took to plunge Christina Jones into a woman unwanted by a wealthy family. Three years of loyalty to her husband, Brendon Dawson, had bought her nothing but heartbreak. On the day that should have marked a joyful third anniversary, Christina had gone to Brendon's office, eager to invite him out to celebrate. Stepping inside, her eyes fell immediately on an ornate necklace gleaming atop his desk. She had believed the necklace was meant for her. However, Brendon noticed her stare and snapped the jewelry box shut with a careless hand. "Yolanda's come back. This is her present," he explained, his words sharp and cool, making sure there was no room left for misunderstanding. Everything became painfully clear in that instant. Christina dropped her gaze, thick-rimmed glasses doing little to mask the ache and disappointment swimming in her eyes. Brendon's old flame, Yolanda Mitchell, had returned and reclaimed her place in his heart. Meanwhile, Christina realized that after three years at Brendon's side, she'd never really belonged there--never held his love, always on the outside, now set aside like something worn out and unnecessary. Irritation creased Brendon's brow, his patience fraying as he watched Christina stand silently, shoulders slumped. "I'll make sure you're compensated. Let's get this over with and move on. Don't kid yourself into thinking you belong where you never did," he said, his voice cold and final. Honestly, Brendon had never found fault with Christina's appearance, figure, or way of managing the household. The thing was, she simply bored him. In his eyes, she was flavorless--a meal that left him unsatisfied, easy to set aside. Efficiency in the home didn't make her the woman he longed for. Christina's silence only deepened the lines in Brendon's forehead. His tone grew cold. "You've got three days to make up your mind. Don't test my patience--I won't wait forever." Without a flicker of hesitation, Christina replied, "No need for more time. I'll sign right now." She calmly picked up the pen and wrote her name on the divorce papers. Together, they went through the motions at court, and soon every legal formality was behind them. Walking out, Christina felt a heavy ache in her ch*st, yet a strange sense of freedom crept in as well. The hope of ever reaching Brendon's heart was gone--she would no longer waste her life in a one-sided relationship. From now on, there'd be no more oscillating between hope and heartbreak, no more self-inflicted wounds from loving a man who couldn't love her back. Lingering pain had felt like dying by a thousand tiny cuts; best to finish it all at once. Now, at last, it was done--irrevocably finished. A sudden ring from Brendon's phone broke into Christina's reverie. He answered, worry quickly sharpening his features. "What? Yolanda's been hospitalized? I'm on my way With no farewell, Brendon rushed to his car and sped away, never pausing to offer Christina a ride or even a second glance. Whenever Yolanda was involved, Brendon would abandon everything, swept up in thoughts of her alone. As soon as Brendon disappeared, a sleek black-and-red Bugatti rolled to a stop right in front of Christina. Out hopped Davina Morris, Christina's closest friend, sporting a bold outfit and a wide, mischievous grin. "Freedom looks good on you, Christina. Congratulations on finally escaping that mess." With a flick of her wrist, Davina tossed the keys to Christina, eyes twinkling. "How about something a little crazy tonight?" Catching the car keys with effortless charm, Christina simply walked over and sat behind the wheel. "Hop in," she said, no hesitation in her voice. Davina wasted no time in settling into the passenger seat. With a stomp on the accelerator, Christina left the courthouse--and the past--far behind. The Bugatti tore down Azure Highway, the engine's roar mixing exhilaration with a sense of release. "We really ought to hit a b*r to celebrate. If you hadn't held me back, I would've uncorked a bottle and doused that j**k with it right then and there," Davina said, her indignation bubbling over. "You pick the place. But first, I need a stop at the salon," Christina answered, her calm belying her need for a bit of reckless fun. Davina shot her a side glance. "Three years off the radar, and people are still searching for you. When are you going to reclaim your crown and turn the medical world upside down again?" A shrug was all Christina offered. "Haven't made any plans yet," she replied, voice cool and detached. A sharp, almost mocking laugh slipped from Davina. "Word is, your ex is tearing up the city trying to track the legendary doctor King down, desperate to save his precious sweetheart. Imagine his face if he ever learns you're actually King." Not a word left Christina's lips. She just stared ahead, her expression unreadable. ...... Meanwhile, Brendon's car raced through traffic, his nerves raw with worry. He dialed his secretary mid-drive. "Still no progress on King's whereabouts?" King's reputation echoed around the globe, a healer wrapped in legend and secrecy, vanished without a trace for three years. All attempts to locate King had led nowhere. The doctor's true identity remained a puzzle--no one had ever seen King's face, nor even confirmed their gender. The secretary's voice crackled through the line. "We've contacted everyone we know, Mr. Dawson, but King is still missing." Brendon's brow furrowed. "Don't stop until you find King. I don't care what it takes!" "We'll keep at it!" Restlessness gnawed at Brendon as he pulled into the hospital's parking lot and bolted toward the entrance. No matter how high the price, he wouldn't stop searching for King--Yolanda's life depended on it. Chapter 2 Raise The Stakes In the Vertbrook B*r, Christina slid off her black-rimmed glasses and tucked them into her hands. Without them, her eyes sparkled with mischief and warmth. Gone was the flat, straight hair she always wore like armor. Now it flowed in waves, framing her face like she belonged on the cover of a magazine. With that red lipstick and confident glow, she turned heads without trying. She moved like someone who'd shed a skin. Whatever plain, quiet version of herself used to exist at home--she wasn't here tonight. Davina leaned in, swirling the straw in her c**ktail. "Hey, there's a shooting match next week. You thinking of signing up?" "Not a chance," Christina replied without missing a beat. "It's been forever. My hands aren't as steady as they used to be." "Come on, who cares?" Davina flashed a teasing grin. "Use it to blow off some steam. Picture Brendon's face on the bullseye and go full demolition mode." A low chuckle slipped out as Christina brought her glass to her lips. "That's t**pting." "Right?" Davina grinned, her tone rising with excitement. "Oh--and guess who's going to be there? Dillan. The guy who almost knocked you out four years ago. You bailed, and now he's been hogging the spotlight ever since." Davina didn't wait for Christina to respond as she added, "And get this--the prize this year is a custom Bugatti. Not a model you can just go out and buy. One of a kind." She passed her phone to Christina without missing a beat. "Here. Take a look at the competition." Christina flipped through the details in seconds. The prize money wasn't the only thing catching her attention. What really stood out was the twist--contestants would be hidden behind masks and aliases. But whoever came out on top? They'd get to force the others to show their real faces. "If you enter and win, you have to make Dillan take off his mask. I need to know what that guy looks like!" Davina exclaimed. "Okay." Christina gave her w**eglass a gentle swirl. The corners of her mouth curled into a teasing grin. "If I show up, I'm not just going to play. I'm going to raise the stakes. Davina tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Alright then, tell me--what exactly are you thinking?" Christina shot Davina a sly grin. "Let everyone know--whoever takes the crown this year gets a personal session with King. No expiry date, either. As long as they meet King's terms, the deal stands." Davina nearly spilled her d**nk. "You're kidding! If that gets out, people are going to crawl over each other just to sign up. This thing's about to blow up." "I'm heading to the restroom." Without another word, Christina rose from her seat. She didn't make it far before a small crowd of men stepped into her path, their swagger loud enough to silence the room. "Well, look what we've got here," one of them said, grinning. "You look like you could use some company. How about a drink?" They l**red at her, scanning her from head to toe like she was something they could own. Ice filled Christina's gaze. Her voice dropped like a warning. "Move." That only seemed to encourage them. "Feisty," one of them said with a chuckle. "We like a girl who makes things interesting." Christina didn't flinch. "Last chance. Get out of my way." Instead of stepping out of her way, one of them whistled, reaching out a hand toward her ch*st with a l**d grin. That was all it took. Christina snapped his wrist before his fingers even brushed her. The sickening crunch made the whole group freeze. The man yelped, "What the h*ll--" The other men didn't get the chance to retaliate. Christina moved like a storm. A kick to the knee. An elbow to the jaw. One by one, she dropped them with cold precision. Within moments, the entire group lay sprawled across the floor, gr**aning and clutching bruises they'd remember for weeks. Above them, the second floor balcony overlooked the chaos. "That woman's a knockout," one of Brendon's buddies said, his jaw practically on the floor. "Cool, confident--exactly my type." Brendon's gaze drifted to the woman with the wavy hair, and the longer he stared, the stronger the sense of recognition grew. There was something in her face--something uncanny--that made him wonder if he was looking at Christina, his ex-wife. After spending the afternoon at the hospital with Yolanda, Brendon had agreed to hit the bar on her suggestion. Blowing off steam sounded harmless--until now. "Hold on a second," Yolanda murmured, squinting at the woman downstairs. "Isn't that Christina?" "Wait, you're telling me that knockout is actually Christina? Get out of here. That can't be the same dull housewife who barely spoke." Curiosity sparked in the group as they leaned in, squinting for confirmation. Recognition settled in fast--it really was Brendon's ex-wife, and the shock hit them like a sl*p. Katie Dawson, Brendon's younger sister, didn't hide her disdain. "Look at her--dressed like she's auditioning for attention. I guess getting dumped made her desperate. Bet she's prowling for a s**ar daddy." The group laughed, quick to follow her lead. "Typical," someone sneered. "Women like that only know how to latch onto a man." "Brendon dodged a bullet. With that look? She's practically advertising herself." "Take the man away and she's got nothing left. Just another gold-digger trying to act like she's someone." Their voices scratched against Brendon's patience like nails on glass. He'd had enough. "Cut it out!" he snapped, his tone sharper than they'd heard all night. Without waiting for a reply, Brendon gave them one final glare and stormed off in Christina's direction. Chapter 3 Her Indifference "Brendon!" "Wait, Brendon!" Katie and Yolanda both called out, their voices overlapping as they rushed to stop Brendon. Before Brendon could move any farther, they stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. "Please tell me you're not about to run to that b**ch," Katie said, disbelief tightening her voice. A flicker of anger crossed Brendon's face. "Watch your mouth, Katie. That attitude isn't just rude--it's disgraceful. You're carrying our family name. Try not to drag it through the mud." Yolanda gently placed a hand on Katie's shoulder, her tone sweet and measured. "Brendon, please don't be so harsh on Katie. She's still young and doesn't know better. If you still care about Christina, just be honest with me. I won't make things difficult for you. I'll go quietly." Yolanda's eyes were red with tears as she made a move to turn away, her face full of hurt. Seeing her like this made Brendon's heart twist. "Yolanda, no--don't go," he said quickly, stepping forward and grabbing her hand. "You're misunderstanding. There's nothing left between Christina and me." "Then be straight with me. Is there still a part of you that loves her? Because… If there is, I can handle it. I won't hold it against you." Yolanda's voice was small and trembling as she met his eyes. Brendon couldn't ignore the way her face twisted with hurt and hastily said, "You're overthinking it. Whatever Christina does now has nothing to do with me anymore." Yolanda reached for his hand, her voice gentle but firm as she said, "Perhaps Christina has a reason to dress like that. Maybe she's struggling to fend for herself. We should help her." Brendon was impressed by Yolanda's apparent kindness. "You've always had a golden heart, Yolanda. But don't fret over Christina. She's not struggling the way you think. I gave her enough to live comfortably, and if she chooses to be a gold-digger and discards her self-respect, that's on her." Yolanda seemed like she wanted to say more, but suddenly lost her footing, her body leaning back as her balance faltered. Brendon moved fast, catching her before she hit the floor. "Yolanda!" His voice cracked with pani "I... I'm fine. It's just too noisy here. I feel a bit dizzy. Let's go back to the private room." Yolanda's voice came out faintly as she leaned against him. Holding her steady, Brendon frowned. "You should've stayed in the hospital and rested a few more days. You shouldn't have insisted on leaving." Turning toward Katie, he instructed, "Katie, take her back to the private room. I'm going to the restroom and I'll be back in a minute." Suspicion danced in Katie's eyes like a match to dry paper. "You're not seriously planning to sneak off and meet Christina, are you?" Before Brendon could respond, Yolanda gently placed her hand on Katie's arm. "It's alright. If Brendon wants to speak to Christina, let him. She's not just some stranger--she was part of his life once. Pretending she doesn't exist won't make her disappear. And if her inappropriate attire tonight stirs up gossip, it won't just fall on Brendon--it could drag down the Dawson name too." "You're always so thoughtful, Yolanda, even considerate of that bit--" Katie stopped herself just when she caught Brendon's cold stare. She froze, swallowing her next words. A beat later, Katie's tone shifted. "Brendon, you see, Yolanda's still not in the clear. If something happens while you're out here wasting time, that's on you!" With an exasperated sigh, Katie latched onto Yolanda's hand. "Come on, Yolanda. We're leaving." ... Downstairs, Christina exited the restroom. She gave her hair a casual toss, a small gesture that turned every head in the b*r. Men watched her openly, eyes trailing her c**ves with a hunger that didn't even try to hide itself. From a short distance away, Brendon stood rigid. His jaw tightened as he watched the scene unfold, those men's stares igniting something bitter inside him. They weren't just looking--they were un**essing her with their eyes. And he hated it. "Christina Jones!" Brendon called out, voice low but taut with irritation. Christina's head turned slowly, her gaze meeting his with a cool detachment. She gave him a slow, deliberate once-over before answering, "What do you want?" Her tone was casual. Distant. Like he was just another stranger in the crowd. That chill in her voice struck a nerve. It rattled something in Brendon he wasn't ready to name. Without thinking, Brendon marched over and seized her wrist. "You're coming with me." Chapter 4 At Least I'm Not Delusional With a swift j**k, Christina yanked her wrist free from Brendon's grasp, eyes narrowed and voice sharp. "Try that again, and you'll regret ever laying a finger on me." Instead of backing down, Brendon found his irritation boiling over. He couldn't explain it, but it felt like control--something he'd always taken for granted--was slipping through his fingers. "This place doesn't suit you!" he snapped, voice cold. "No need to play dress-up just to make me look your way." That made Christina laugh--sharp, humorless, and laced with contempt. "Wow. You think this is about you? Don't delude yourself. We're finished. Whatever you think you still have a say in, you don't." "Is that really what you want?" Brendon asked, his stare hard and searching. "To erase everything just like that?" "Don't you want the same?" Christina retorted flatly. "Don't forget, we've already divorced." Brendon's hand twitched, and before he could stop himself, he reached for her again. But her reflexes were faster. With a crisp sl*p, she knocked his hand away. "Sh*t!" Brendon recoiled, holding his wrist, fury flashing in his eyes. "Are you insane?" "If I am, at least I'm not delusional," Christina said casually, her gaze drifting down to his g**in and back up with a derisive smirk. "Though you might want to get yourself checked for any functional problems." Rage twisted across his face. "You've got a real mouth on you!" "Appreciate the compliment," Christina replied with a shrug, completely unfazed. Brendon's anger flared even hotter. "I came here to warn you because I didn't want to see you crash and burn. But if this is what you want, go ahead. Make your mess. I'm done trying." Without saying another word, Brendon spun on his heel and stormed off, his frustration echoing in each step. Christina's transformation hadn't gone unnoticed. Still, in his mind, it was nothing more than a flashy attempt to draw his attention. Across the room, more than a few men couldn't stop staring, their eyes tracking Christina like prey. She met their gazes with a look so sharp that it could cut glass, and whatever boldness they carried dissolved on the spot. Every spine stiffened. Whatever fantasy they'd been brewing got snuffed out before it even formed. No one in that b*r forgot what had happened earlier. Those foolish enough to touch her were left broken--one of them, quite literally, had his manhood destroyed. Nobody dared try again. Not after witnessing that brutal reminder. ... Elsewhere, inside a private, soundproof room tucked away from the crowd, two men silently observed the commotion. Dylan Scott leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as the striking Christina strode away from the scene, her presence drawing focus like gravity. Something about her brought back a name he hadn't spoken aloud in years--Rose. The masked woman who had nearly shattered his pride at that shooting match four years ago. He could still picture the glint of her eyes behind the mask. "She's got bite," Ralphy Graham, Dylan's friend, commented, his gaze flicking from the bar to Dylan. "If Brendon picked a fight with her, he'd be eating dirt." The quiet authority in Dylan's posture was undeniable. He didn't need to speak to make his presence felt--his energy did the work for him. Ralphy caught the flicker of interest in his friend's eyes and said, "Don't tell me she's cracked that cold wall of yours. You thinking of pursuing her?" A shift in Dylan's expression sobered the air. "Finding any leads on King is all I care about," he said evenly. A crease formed on Ralphy's brow. "Still nothing?" Dylan's features were drawn tight. "Not a trace." "It's like King disappeared off the face of the earth," Ralphy said, a note of frustration slipping into his voice. "But King is the only one who can treat your sister. That hasn't changed." At those words, Dylan's grip tightened around his glass. "Exactly. That's why I'll keep looking--no matter how long it takes." Without pause, he downed the entire drink. A shrill ring sliced through the room, breaking the tension. Without missing a beat, Ralphy reached for his phone and answered, looking composed at first. But within seconds, that calm shattered. His eyes lit up with sudden, electric excitement, and his posture shot upright. Dylan raised an eyebrow, voice steady. "What could possibly rattle you like that?" The call ended with a sharp tap. Ralphy turned to him, breathless with disbelief. "It's about King. The sh**ting competition!" Confusion flickered across Dylan's face. "What are you talking about?" He hadn't expected King's name to be tied to a sh**ting competition. Ralphy explained, nearly bursting, "King just released a statement. Next week's champion of the shooting competition gets an opportunity for treatment--no expiry, just has to follow King's terms." Ralphy almost bounced in his seat. The competition he hosted had just become the hottest event of the year because of King's announcement. "No sh*t! Seriously?" Dylan leaned forward, his voice dropping, but the edge in it sharp. "Say it again." With unwavering certainty, Ralphy said, "Whoever wins the sh**ting competition earns a treatment session from King. And Dylan, you've been on top of the shooting competition for three years straight under the alias of Dillan. If anyone's walking away with that prize, it's going to be you!" Chapter 5 Beat Him Once Again Dylan didn't wait for Ralphy to say another word. He turned sharply and walked away without hesitation. That sudden exit made Ralphy blink. "Where are you headed?" he called out, still riding the high of the news. "I'm heading back to train. If I want that win, I can't leave anything to chance," Dylan replied, his voice cold, eyes set like flint on the future. Finally, there was hope--his sister might get the treatment she needed. So long as that phantom from his past--Rose--didn't show up, victory was within reach. Still, he couldn't afford to gamble on luck. He'd push harder, train longer. Failure wasn't an option. Elsewhere, Brendon stood frozen with his phone in hand, staring at the notification of King's statement. "It's real! King's giving out treatment! You're going to be okay!" Katie gasped from across the room and rushed forward, pulling Yolanda into a tight hug. Uncertainty clouded Yolanda's face. "But… Isn't Dillan still undefeated? I heard no one's even come close to beating him in years." Katie waved the concern off with a confident smile. "It doesn't matter who wins. We'll make an offer they can't refuse. There's no way anyone will refuse money." "That's right. Yolanda, you have my word--I'll do everything in my power to get King to treat you," Brendon said, his voice steady with conviction. "No matter what it takes, I'll find a way to ease your pain and make this illness less of a burden." Tears welled up in Yolanda's eyes as she clutched his sleeve. "You're always doing so much for me. I don't even know how to thank you." Brendon held her close, one hand soothing her hair. "You don't have to. I'm not doing this for thanks--I'm doing it for you." Moved beyond words, Yolanda buried her face against his ch*st. "Brendon, thank you." And so, the long-awaited day of the shooting competition finally arrived. By morning, the sh**ting grounds were packed tighter than ever. The rare luxury car was a flashy incentive, but it was King's offer of treatment--more precious than gold or any fancy car--that pulled the crowd in like gravity. Barely had the opening round finished before contestants began dropping like flies. As each round grew more demanding, the numbers thinned fast, only the most skilled sh**ters hanging on. Brendon held his own long enough to break into the top ten, but his run ended when he pushed too hard for the top five. The disappointment etched itself clearly across his face. "It's alright, Brendon. We've got more than enough money to work with," Katie said, fully prepared to use their wealth to secure the championship by any means necessary. Yolanda offered a softer response, her voice warm and gentle. "You did everything you could, Brendon. Making it that far was amazing. Please don't be so hard on yourself." One look at Yolanda's calm, supportive smile eased some of the tension knotted in Brendon's ch*st. Even so, her grace only deepened the self-reproach for not being skilled enough to win the prize of King's treatment twisting inside him. He hated coming up short. Now, only two names remained on the board. One man. One woman. Everyone recognized Dillan--the reigning champ with a perfect track record. The woman standing across from him, Chrissy, was a mystery to most. The final challenge came with a twist--contestants had to sh**t while blindfolded. Dylan had already pieced it together. Chrissy wasn't some unknown competitor. She was Rose--the same Rose who had disappeared without a trace three years ago. She hadn't just returned. She had reinvented herself under a brand-new alias. Standing across from the very woman who had once crushed him in the past, Dylan felt the weight of that memory press down hard. Even so, three years of relentless training had reshaped him. This time, he believed he could take her down. With steady steps, Dylan walked onto the stage. A black mask concealed his face, but the resolve in his stance said everything. The staff tied the blindfold tightly, and the final showdown began. First sh*t--direct hit. Right through the center. Second sh*t--another bullseye. Then came the third. All around him, the crowd leaned in, the arena holding its breath like one giant lung. When that final sh*t struck dead center, the silence shattered into wild cheers. The audience leapt from their seats, the roar deafening. "Dillan is amazing! If I fl**t with him and win him over, I bet I can talk him into giving up that prize once he wins!" Katie exclaimed from the front row, clapping her hands together and beaming. "You're smitten with him, aren't you?" Yolanda tilted her head, an amused sparkle in her eyes. Flushing, Katie quickly waved it off. "Absolutely not! I'm just trying to secure King's treatment for you, that's all." Yolanda chuckled. "You've always looked out for me, Katie. I'm so lucky to have you." Brendon crossed his arms. "This match is Dillan's to take. No question." Brendon hadn't taken Chrissy seriously since she walked in. In his mind, women just didn't belong in the upper tier of this sport. The name Rose still lingered in his memory--her win years ago felt more like a lucky strike than a real triumph. If she had the skill, she wouldn't have vanished three years ago. Now blindfolded and standing center stage, Chrissy--who was actually Christina--made no move to sh**t. Instead, she turned her body slowly, letting the eyes of the crowd follow her every motion. Whispers broke out almost immediately. "Is she giving up?" "Maybe this is her way of backing out without saying it outright." "I said it from the start--women just can't hold their own in a match like this." But as the noise grew louder, Christina raised her w**pon behind her back and, without adjusting her stance, pulled the trigger. The sh*t rang out sharp and clean. "Direct hit!" the announcer shouted. Gasps rippled through the audience. She had landed a bullseye--and under conditions that were harder than earlier rounds. "How is that possible?" "No way. That was pure luck!" While the crowd clung to doubt, Dylan's confidence began to slip. It was happening again. He was about to lose to Rose. From her second sh*t to her last, Christina never missed. Each movement was fluid, each sh*t dead-on. She moved like she had eyes in the back of her head. Sh*t after sh*t, bullseye after bullseye. The difficulty of Chrissy's round surpassed Dylan's, leaving no room for dispute--Chrissy had won. Cheers erupted, c*rses followed, and stunned silence filled the gaps in between. Those who bet everything on Dillan were left stunned and broke. Meanwhile, Davina couldn't stop grinning. She had bet on Chrissy from the start--and now she was walking away with more money than she knew what to do with. Dylan remained rooted to the spot, his disbelief anchoring him in place as Christina strode straight toward him. "You will peel off the mask yourself, or should I do it for you?" Christina said casually, determined to see his face as per the privilege that came with the winner. The voice modulator built into her mask disguised her tone, keeping the crowd guessing. But Dylan didn't need a voice to recognize her--he knew. This was Rose. No doubt. With no hesitation, he reached up and pulled off his mask. Gasps swept through the arena as his face came into full view. Revealed beneath the mask was none other than Dylan Scott, head of the city's most powerful dynasty and the silent force behind the very competition they were watching. Brendon exhaled in quiet relief. Had Dylan come out on top, not even the Dawson name would've held any weight to sway him into giving up the prize of King's treatment. Compared to Dylan's influence, the Dawson family would've been brushed aside like a rumor. Masked and silent, Christina moved past Brendon and his crew, her steps aimed at Davina--until Katie suddenly stepped in her way. "Hold it right there!" Katie planted herself in front of Christina, eyes narrowed with smug defiance. "That reward--sell it to us. Just say how much you want." "Nah, not for sale," Christina said, her voice dry and unmoved. Helping Yolanda had never been on her agenda. Not now. Not ever. "You seriously think refusing us is smart?" Katie snapped. "Do you know what happens to people who go against the Dawson family?" "I don't," Christina said with a shrug. "And I don't care. I said it's not for sale." "You arrogant--" Katie's words failed her as rage took over. In one furious motion, she lunged forward and yanked the mask off Christina's face... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&
