Female Novel
Chatper 502
Chaz slapped Helen across the face, leaving her seeing stars.
"You asked for it!" he bellowed. "Take her away!"
While Helen was being shoved into a BMW, a black Maybach drove into The Dynasty's parking lot as
well.
Vicky was riding shotgun dressed in a bewitching purple dress, watching Frank as she asked, "Henry
Lane's funeral will be held in a few days. Are you attending it?"
"Yeah." Frank nodded somberly. "He saved my life. No matter what the Lanes did, I'll send him off one
last time."
It has been three days, and he had gathered himself by now.
Vicky nodded with a smile. Just as she was going to start talking about what they should drink, she
frowned as she spotted a single stiletto in the middle of the parking lot.
"What the heck?"
It was unusual, and her woman's intuition left her frowning.
Ladies were sensitive toward brands after all, and Vicky could tell that it was expensive. Moreover, she
had seen the size and design before...
Screech!
Suddenly, a black BMW that was driving from the opposite side stopped beside their Maybach, and the
window rolled down to reveal a familiar face.novelbin
"Tut, tut. If it isn't Frank Lawrence and Ms. Turnbull! What, here to get drunk as well?" Chaz whistled
pointedly at Frank, in a good mood even as he glanced at Helen who was being pressed against the
backseat.
"Fuck off," Frank snapped, which immediately left Chaz's smile stiffening.
"Hmph. Let's see how long you'll keep up that pompous act." He snorted and turned toward Vicky,
raising his brow repeatedly and flirtatiously. "Forgive me for being Frank, Ms. Turnbull, but keeping your
gigolo would eventually lead to your family's downfall. You really should dump him while you still can."
"Thanks for the tip, but I think you can mind your own business, Mr. Graves. Why don't you go back to
Southstream and lap up what's left of it?" Vicky's tone was polite, but her sarcasm was sharp.
Though Chaz felt like he was given a slap in the face, he was not annoyed at all. "Don't worry—I'm
sure you'll be begging at my doorstep in a few days."
He drove off before Vicky could retort, leaving her wary. "What on earth is that bastard cooking?
Frank simply chuckled in disdain. "We'll deal with it when it comes. It's his own doom if he can't get
over himself." "I've always loved your attitude." Vicky beamed as she leaned against Frank's shoulder,
though she soon pointed at the black stiletto still lying in the parking lot. "I think I know whose shoe that
is—I saw it at your mansion. It's Helen's."
"Helen's?" Frank frowned.
He then remembered Chaz's gleeful smile, and then glanced at The Dynasty.
He raised his brow as he connected the dots—Chaz was really not giving up, was he?
But he had cut all ties with the Lanes now, and whatever they did was none of his business.