Page 29 of Jealous Billionaire's Endless Regret

Astra yanked her arm free, her expression ice-cold. “I don’t need your money. Please excuse me.”

And with that, she walked out of the room.

But barely a second later, Esther’s high-pitched scream tore through the hallway.

“Help! Someone help! This doctor’s trying to kill me!”

Chapter 7 Faking It

Astra spun around in shock, panic flashing across her face.

“Goddamn it!” she hissed, bolting away. “I can’t let anyone find out I’m Krystal.”

She ran fast but quietly, trying to disappear before the servants came rushing up. Thankfully, the house was massive.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs.

No time.

She ducked into a familiar room before the sound of footsteps grew too close.

It was her old bedroom.

The one she used to share with Lorenzo.

Her pulse raced as she ran straight for the closet, grabbing a long-sleeved, high-neck dress and throwing it on over her jeans and t-shirt. The cap she tucked into her jeans waistband, the mask shoved deep into her pocket.

But as she moved, her hand smacked into a glass bottle on the dresser—Lorenzo’s expensive cologne.

Crash.

Glass shattered everywhere.

Footsteps pounded closer.

Within seconds, the door burst open.

Seconds later, Esther barged in with two servants at her side. Her eyes wild and searching.

They landed on Krystal.

She was on her knees, reaching for the broken perfume bottle scattered across the hardwood floor.

“What the hell is this?” Esther barked, turning to the guards. “Who let the maids into Lorenzo’s bedroom?” Her eyes narrowed at Krystal, oozing disdain. “When I take over this house, I’m tripling security around our room.”

She turned to the servants. “Throw this maid out. We don’t need trash like this working here.”

“You’re not the owner of this house yet, Esther.”

The calm but firm voice made Esther freeze. She spun around, her face twisting in rage, eyes narrowing at Krystal.

“How dare you? You’re just a fucking maid! Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Krystal slowly stood, eyes locked on her. “Who are you to call this your bedroom, or this house yours, when I haven’t even divorced my husband yet?”

Esther went pale. Her jaw slackened as realization sank in.

“So... you’re Krystal,” she muttered.

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