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.
"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.
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