Everyone in Greenvale knew just how ruthless James could be.
Hawthorne’s eyes were as cold as ice.
“You’re afraid James will kill you. But aren’t you just as scared that I might?”
Patti Yale trembled, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Would you really…?”
Hawthorne’s glare cut her off—she didn’t dare push her luck. There was no warmth or affection in his eyes, only an unreadable and chilling cruelty.
“I’ll give you two minutes. One, or two. Choose.”
Only now did Patti realize what it meant to be caught between a rock and a hard place.
She swallowed nervously.
“What if I pay you back? With interest?”
She was planning to go to James. Surely, for the sake of the baby she was carrying, James would help her settle the debt.
Hawthorne’s lips curled. “Fine. But the credit card is under my name. How did it end up in your hands? And those bottles of wine from the cellar—do you remember how much you’ve drunk lately?”
Patti’s face went even paler.
“You’re counting the wine too?”
Why did he bring her to his apartment anyway? This used to be her home, once.
“I have a family. Everything I own is half my wife’s by law. Maybe I can let it go. But do you really think she will?”
Hawthorne toyed with a jade hairpin in his hand. Patti recognized it instantly—it was the one she’d shattered at their last meeting. Now, it had been perfectly restored.
“That’s an artifact from the Warring States era. Not even ten lifetimes would be enough for you to pay it back. Maybe you won’t die for it, but you’re looking at at least twenty years behind bars.”
Patti’s whole body shook. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Only now did she realize that Hawthorne had been orchestrating this all along.
From the moment she landed in Greenvale and asked him to pick her up, he’d been waiting for this.
There were never really two choices today—she only had one. If she didn’t take it, Hawthorne would make sure she spent the next twenty years eating prison food.
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