All Chapters of Divorced my Cheating Husband for his Billionaire Uncle: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Bethany reaches the door, her heart slamming against her ribs. She twists the knob…Nothing.She tries again, this time pulling harder.Locked.Panic surges through her, but she tamps it down. She’s not trapped. She won’t be trapped.The room goes silent behind her.She slowly turns.The men are no longer laughing. They’re staring at her, their drunken haze lifting as realization sets in."You’re not drunk, you don’t look drunk at all." one of them says, his voice low and dangerous.Bethany forces out a nervous giggle. "W-What are you talking about?"Slicked-Back steps forward, his face darkening. "You set us up, didn’t you? You little vixen."Bethany doesn’t hesitate. She yanks her phone from her clutch and shouts into it…"Call Officer Reynold now, Daisy!"Then, she hangs up.A deadly silence follows.All four men straighten, their expressions shifting from confusion to cold calculation."You little bitch," one of them hisses.Bethany backs against the door, gripping her phone tight

Red and blue lights painted the darkened club exterior in flashing bursts as police officers stormed through the entrance. As always, whenever there is the sound of even the slightest movements of the police within a club’s surroundings, there is an unheard hush that goes through the crowd…In this case, especially the long line outside waiting to be admitted into the building.A group of onlookers had gathered just outside as well, murmuring in hushed voices, their curiosity piqued by the commotion of the police vehicles. The club's music still thumped through the walls, seemingly oblivious to the chaos unraveling outside.Bethany stood beside Daisy and Quinn, breathless, her heart still hammering from the near disaster she had narrowly escaped, although a bit calm now compared to when her back had been against the wall with slicked back’s hands to her neck.Arthur stood beside them, his jaw locked, his fury simmering just beneath the surface.She knows that a part of his anger is at

The bus goes on its way along the cracked asphalt, its huge tires just as wide as the same look on John’s face when he comes to the realization.John sits hunched in his seat, his handcuffed wrists resting on his lap. He stares out the window, but the view feels more like a movie he’s watching from behind the barricaded glass of the bus, people walking, shops opening, the world moving on without him. He won’t be a part of it for a very long time, and maybe even never again.Then it hits him.A sleek, black Audi R8 glides past the bus, shiny, unsuspecting and beautiful. For a moment, it’s like the world slows down. The car catches the light just right, a sharp glint bouncing off its chrome details.His stomach twists.That car. The exact same model he had seen drive into the parking lot outside Sienna’s building the day she died, just as he drove off, a bit wary of the black-black dressed driver.He lurches forward, startling the officer seated a few feet away. “Officer! Please, I need

The silence in the rental office’s reception tightens like a noose on a criminal’s neck.Travis looks like the criminal while Marsh seems like the executioner.Marsh paces slowly in front of the reception desk, fists clenched at his sides, jaw clenching and unclenching with held back fury. Travis, the kid behind the counter, glances between him and Halloway like he's deciding which cop looks slightly less ready to blow, and maybe when to dash back to avoid a swinging fist.Halloway, standing just off to Marsh’s right, clears his throat and steps in. “Is there any other way we can identify the person who rented that car?” His tone is calm but firm, the kind that invites cooperation without threat. It’s a good cop move, and one Marsh doesn’t have the patience for today.The classic good cop, bad cop.Travis blinks at him, then nods. “I… uh, I can call my manager. He’ll know more about it sir.”“Good,” Halloway says, stepping back, folding his arms. He throws Marsh a sidelong glance that

POVGood riddance to bad trash.The glass in front of me is already half empty, but I hold it like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the planet. My fingers tremble around the rim, knuckles pale and tight. Whiskey burns my throat as I knock the rest of it back in one go, but I barely flinch.Who flinches at a burn of alcohol after seeing a dead body’s flinching in death? Its nothing compared to one another, simply fleeting and yet stays with you… When you see the eyes of a dead person closing for the last time.Or the last blink? The last sigh? The last finger twitch? Exhilarating to see and alcohol seems to be the closes thing to feeling that lovely twinge in your back again.The bartender’s eyes flick toward me from the end of the counter.He's used to me now. I’ve been coming here every other night, ordering the same thing, pretty expensive whiskey, no ice, no chaser, the perfect feeling it gives me gives me no other choice but to drink it raw.I don’t need comfort.I need focus an