NovelStartChapter 324 "You..." Bridget gritted her teeth, seething.
She never expected to be blackmailed by someone like Freya-a rat scurrying in the gutter, of all people.
Freya let out a light laugh. "Ms. Simpson, don't do anything rash. I don't have much to lose, you know. But if I go down, I'll make sure I take someone with me." Bridget clenched her fists. She wasn't afraid of a dog that barked all the time-it was the stray dogs that bite you out of nowhere that worried her.
She took a steadying breath. “I'll transfer the money in a minute." "Thank you, Ms. Simpson." Freya ended the call with a smirk.
Bridget stared at her phone, fully aware that this leech's appetite would only grow with time.
And it was all Sylvia's fault.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtIf it weren't for Sylvia, Freya would never have dared to cross her like this.
Just then, her phone buzzed with a message from Caleb.
"Hey babe, are you free tonight?" Bridget was about to reply "no," when a new idea popped into her head.
"Actually, I am. But... I need you to do something for me." "Anything for you. My life is yours!" The next morning, Sylvia caught a cab to the airport.
About ten minutes later, Eloise and Bridget arrived, one after the other.
Eloise gave a few quick reminders and ushered them onto the plane.
Bridget had booked business class for the three of them-it was more spacious and comfortable.
But for sreason, Sylvia found herself seated quite far from the others.
She understood why as soon as the passenger next to her sat down.
A middle-aged man in an expensive suit took the seat beside her. From the moment he sat down, his eyes were glued to Sylvia, only breaking eye contact to give her a not-so-subtle once-over, sizing up her figure with the entitled gaze of a rich guy shopping for a trophy wife.
There was no easy escape, so Sylvia tried to act indifferent. At least there was a small table between their seats. Three and a half hours. She just had to make it through.
Soon, the flight attendant caround with breakfast. Everything looked pretty good, but Sylvia was still stuffed from earlier, so she just asked for a bottle of water As she reached for it, the man beside her suddenly brushed her hand. She snatched her hand back, shooting him a glare.
He chuckled, putting on a fake gentlemanly air. "Oh, sorry, I grabbed the wrong bottle." Sylvia didn't bother to respond. She took her water and buried herself in her phone.
The plane was new and the seats were comfortable. Before she knew it, Sylvia felt herself drifting off.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmBut even half-asleep, she had the nagging sense that something was brushing against her leg.
She cracked one eye open to see the man beside her "adjusting his shoes," his elbow deliberately brushing her leg.
Sylvia jerked her leg away, furious. "What do you think you're doing?" He gave her that soily smile. "Just changing into my slippers! Did I bump you? My apologies, really." Then he handed her a business card.
"Here's my card," he said, tapping the title in on it. "Easton Investments. That's my compel you I'm a VIP with this airline,, you know." He was clearly hinting at something.
Sylvia shoved the card back at him. "No thanks. Excuseneed to use the restroom.
Not waiting for a reply, she practically leapt out of her seat and slipped erstand n away, shutting herself into the bathroom. She washed her hands, took a deep breath, and tried to get her
composure back. When she finally opened the door, she almost m collided with someone passing by. "Sorry!" she blurted out.
"Ms. Lloyd? What are you doing here?" The man blinked in surprise.
"Orson? You're here too?" "I'm traveling with Mr. Rupert. He's up in first class, and I'm just delivering sfiles to a colleague." Orson held up a folder as proof.
"Oh, right. I won't keep you, then."
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