Page 216 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
“Thank you, darling.” She perched delicately on the edge of the seat like a princess afraid of catching something.
Eris looked good for forty-six, at least from a distance. The kind of good that cost thousands—nails, hair dye, injectables, hours of makeup artistry. Peel it all back and what was left? Entitlement. Greed. A woman who’d spent years perfecting appearances while being a duplicitous bitch beneath the surface.
“Your usual, sweetheart?” I asked, still standing, already turning toward the bar.
“Yes,” she sighed, lifting her manicured hands off the table with visible disgust. “Can you ask someone to clean this? It’s vile.”
“Of course,” I lied with a warm smile, heading off toward the bartender.
She didn’t notice the faint smile tugging at my mouth.
This wasn’t a date.
It was a setup.
And by the end of the night, I’d have her signature.
?? ?? ??
I nursed my drink while she sucked down her fourth double gin and tonic. Every part of tonight had been strategically planned. Picking her up straight from work meant she was drinking on an empty stomach. Easier to manipulate. Easier to distract.
“I don’t want to be crude, darling, but I need you to sign my life insurance policy,” I said, reaching into my suit jacket and pulling out the envelope. “If anything happens to me, I want you and Everly to be protected.”
Her eyes zeroed in on the envelope like a predator locking onto prey.
“It’s for £150 million.”
She gasped. Her back straightened. Hands off the glass instantly.
The juicy carrot.
Yes, you cheap fucking whore. Sign your own demise.
She didn’t ask a single question—just stared, greedy and wide-eyed, like she’d already spent it.
“We can do it later,” I said casually, starting to slide the envelope back into my pocket.
“No!” Her hand shot out. “I mean—it’s fine. Not crude at all. You’re just being responsible. Looking after us.”
Right.
I forced a smile to cover the disgust crawling under my skin and opened the envelope slowly. Her eyes followed every movement like it might vanish if she blinked. I handed her the pen. She snatched it, eager, and leaned over the table. I pointed to the dotted line.
She signed.
I flicked to the next page—another signature.
And finally, the kicker. One more space. A reaffirmation of the prenuptial agreement.
She signed that too. Still pristine. Even drunk, her signature didn’t falter.
She had no idea she’d just signed away everything.
The PI had already started feeding me intel. Stuff I never knew. Stuff I should have known. She’d emptied her daughter’s trust fund. That’s why the boarding schools had cost so damn much—she’d inflated the figures to gain access to the money. Some years she’d doubled the fees. Tripled them.
There was barely a few thousand left in the account now. Eris had bled it dry. And I’d been the fool funding her facade.
Her greed had inspired this insurance policy trick. She couldn’t resist the smell of money—even if it came from my coffin.
