Chapter 173

"Funny. I was planning to settle this when I recovered, but here you are—delivered straight to my doorstep."

Vivian Lockhart descended the stairs with eerie calm, her fingers flexing at her sides. The sharp cracks of her knuckles punctuated the tense silence.

She'd known for a while now. The man who'd tried to bury Evelyn Whitmore alive four years ago wasn't just some faceless enemy. He was Richard Ashford's right-hand man—Vincent Holloway.

And he was standing right in front of her.

Vincent turned, his lips curling into a sneer. "Bold words for a Lockhart rat. Our boss has been itching to wipe you out, but the Blackwoods kept you alive. Pathetic. A washed-up housewife with no one left to protect her. Might as well gift your corpse to him as a bonus."

Vivian smirked. "If you want to beg your master for scraps, you’d better have the teeth to back it up. Though, judging by how fast you pissed yourself earlier, I doubt you’ve got any bite left."

She tapped her phone, blasting the humiliating footage of Vincent soiling himself when Evelyn walked in.

The room erupted in laughter.

Even Evelyn, who hadn’t smiled in years, clutched her stomach, tears streaming down her face.

Vincent’s face twisted. He lunged, fist aimed at Vivian’s face. "You little—!"

Evelyn screamed, "Miss Viv, watch out!"

Vivian caught his wrist mid-air. One fluid twist, and Vincent was on the ground, groaning.

His eyes widened. "What the hell—?"

He wasn’t some amateur. He knew combat. And that move? That took years of training.

Vivian smirked down at him. "Just taking out the trash."

Then her stomach cramped.

Damn it. Not now.

She forced herself upright, masking the pain. "Consider this your lucky day. Walk away, or I send this video to Richard. Imagine his face when he sees his top dog whimpering like a kicked puppy."

Vincent paled. That video in Richard’s hands? A death sentence.

He scrambled up, snarling. "You got lucky. I’m not at full strength today."

He waved his men toward the door.

Then it hit him.

Why leave evidence?

He spun back, rage boiling over. "Grab that phone! Kill her!"

But before his men could move, a boot slammed into his back, sending him flying.