Revenge In Repose (Valerie and Aiden) novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213

Waylon waved his hand dismissively. “No need. This interesting character deserves a bit more ‘play time.”

Knowing Waylon’s temper, the assistant gave a quick nod.

He added, “Oh, and about next month’s investment networking event, go through the guest list and keep one spot open.”

The assistant was startled.

He thought, ‘That’s an exclusive event, not just anyone can get in.

‘Everyone attending that event is a VIP. Now Mr. Walker is freeing up a spot, could it really be for this person?

‘We don’t even know if this person is male or female, how they are, or anything about their background. What if they’re a security risk?‘

Waylon waved him off dismissively. “What’s there to fear? Do you think I don’t have enough protection?”

Convinced, the assistant quickly went to carry out his orders.

Jeana had promised to return in three days, but by the third day, there was still no sign of her return.

Valerie had been busy working on her graduation project lately. Although Timothy was well–behaved and never caused any trouble, he was still just a child. Every now and then, he would quietly tug at Valerie’s sleeve and ask in a soft voice, “Valerie, when is Mommy coming to pick me up?”

Valerie could only keep reassuring him that his mom would be back soon, soothing him each time until he calmed down. After five long days, she finally received a call from Jeana, feeling a wave of relief wash over her.

Jeana sounded unwell, her voice nasal as she said, “Sorry for the trouble, Valerie. I’ll head back to Reano City today.”

Valerie asked gently, “It’s alright. Are you coming down with a cold?”

“Just a bit, but it’s okay. At least I managed to get the money back,” Jeana said over the phone. ‘Though the price I paid… was rather steep,‘ she thought to herself.

Valerie, suspecting nothing, said warmly, “That’s good. Timothy misses you so much, please come back soon.”

“Okay.” Jeana hung up the phone and, her heart pounding, glanced nervously at the man nearby. With a slightly shaky voice, she said, “Mr. Law, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be going now.”

Orson twirled a delicate coffee spoon between his fingers, stirring his coffee with deliberate slowness. Hearing this, a knowing smirk played on his lips.

Leaning back in his chair, his charming almond–shaped eyes glinting with arrogant dominance, he drawled, “Leaving?”

With a dismissive push of his coffee cup, the two bodyguards standing guard at the door immediately cut off Jeana’s only escape route.

Two towering bodyguards stood stone–faced, their menacing gazes locked on Jeana.

Startled, Jeana finally snapped, “Orson, what the hell do you want?”

Orson stood up, moved behind her, and murmured in a low, threatening voice, “What do I want? Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

Orson abruptly locked his arms around Jeana’s waist. Startled, she let out a shriek, pounding her fists against his arms as she cried out, “Let go of me,

Orson!”

Orson buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply with undisguised craving. In a husky murmur dripping with longing, he breathed, “I’ve

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Chapter 213

missed you so much, Jeana.”

Jeana’s whole body went rigid as a wave of bitterness rose to her nose. Tears threatened to spill over, and she silently told herself, ‘Don’t cry.”

But she quickly suppressed her emotions and snapped in a low voice, “Orson, we’ve been over for a long time. Let me go, now!”

Orson let out a dark, mocking laugh. “Over?” His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. “Between us? That’s impossible.”

His large hand traced slow circles on her waist. In a dangerously soft voice, he coaxed, “Jeana, be a good girl and tell me, where’s my child?”

Jeana trembled violently, her body, untouched for so long, now unbearably sensitive, leaving her shocked and overwhelmed.

Her entire body tensed up. She dug her nails into his hand and, through clenched teeth, snapped, “There’s no baby.”

“You know lying doesn’t suit you,” Orson’s eyes turned icy as he roughly pinned her against the door, which slammed hard against the wall. Leaning in close, his lips nearly brushing her ear, he demanded in a dangerously low voice, “Tell me, what happened to the child you were carrying back then?”

Jeana bit down hard on her lower lip, her eyes rimmed red as she glared at him. After a long pause, she forced out between clenched teeth, “Dead.”

Orson slammed his fist into the door just inches from her ear. “Jeana!”

Jeana shuddered, slowly closed her eyes, her eyelids fluttering. In a broken voice, she said, “Right after you left… I… I had the baby aborted.”

Orson’s gaze bore into her.

Seeing Jeana bite her lip, her nostrils quivering and eyes rimmed with red, Orson was instantly reminded of that first night she had trembled beneath

him.

She wore the same expression as she had back then.

She whimpered to him through her tears, “Orson, it hurts.”

But now, her eyes clearly held a new layer of hatred.

Orson let out a cold laugh. “Is that so?”

Jeana’s heart pounded with guilt.

‘How much does he know?‘ she wondered anxiously. Running into him here was never part of the plan.

This was a rural area. Orson had just returned from abroad to take over the family business, and was here to handle demolition holdouts.

Jeana had just managed to claw back some of the money, only to run smack into her first love from years ago, of all people, and in a situation like this. “Then how about…” Orson pressed his body against hers with deliberate force, making Jeana let out a muffled gasp. With a cold, mocking tone, he said, “Shall we make another one?”

With that, his hands clawed at her flimsy summer dress, the scorching heat of his palms burning through the fabric.

Jeana’s eyes widened in terror. “Don’t touch me! Orson!” she screamed.

But Orson paid her no mind, hauling her up and slamming her down onto the leather couch.

Jeana was thrown violently onto the couch, her head spinning from the impact. Before she could recover, Orson was already on top of her, pinning her

down.

Jeana shrieked, her eyes blazing red. “Get off me, Orson! Don’t make me hate you!”

Orson ripped off his shirt, his voice dripping with bitter mockery, whether aimed at himself or at her futile resistance, it was hard to tell. “Go on, hate me.

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