Chapter 95
Mr Rich had seen better days, she thought. She could smell the alcohol on him, and sour body odour. His clothing had been slept in at least once, and his cheeks wore a week’s worth of stubble.
He was holding a gun, low against his hip, the muzzle pointed at her.
Shit. This is not how I want to die, she thought bitterly. At the wrong end of a bullet fired by a narcissistic rapist. Had he been right? Was that really how the world worked? Was it really a man’s world?
F-k that, she decided, angrily. She had started this fighting, and she would go down fighting.
She prayed that he had not already been by the boardroom where Vice and Victor were in negotiations with Gabriella and Lucas.
“Police are searching my f-king house,” he told her with fury. “I have been f-king fired and no one will touch me. I have f-king protestors on my front lawn. All because of you.”