The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption (by Claire Winters) novel Chapter 170

170 A Just Dessert

Hazel’s POV

The cool evening air hit my face as I stepped out of the restaurant. My heart hammered against my ribs in a strange mix of anxiety and grim satisfaction. Inside, waiters were crowding around Gloria’s slumped form. I knew she would be fine- eventually. Whatever she had slipped into my drink was likely meant to incapacitate, not harm. That was the Everett way-underhanded but calculated.

I took several deep breaths to steady myself. The expression on Gloria’s face when she realized what had happened-that perfect moment of horrified understanding—would stay with me for a long time. It felt like justice, seeing her taste her own medicine.

Yet something twisted in my stomach. A sliver of guilt? Perhaps. Despite everything the Everetts had done to me, I wasn’t like them. I didn’t take pleasure in others’ suffering.

My phone vibrated in my purse. Cherry’s name flashed on the screen.

“Did it work?” she asked immediately.

“Like clockwork,” I confirmed, walking toward my car. “Gloria’s probably going to wake up with a terrible headache and some uncomfortable questions from restaurant staff.”

Cherry chuckled on the other end. “Serves her right. Who drugs someone in a public place?”

“Desperate people,” I answered simply. “The divorce proceedings must have them panicking.”

“Did she reveal anything useful?”

I glanced back at the restaurant. Through the window, I could see Gloria being helped to a chair, her movements clumsy and disoriented. Her normally perfect hair hung limply around her face, and she was frantically scratching at her arms.

“Nothing concrete,” I replied. “But definitely confirmed they’re trying to stop the divorce by any means necessary.”

“Should I call Sebastian?” Cherry asked.

“No,” I said quickly. “He’s got enough on his plate. I can handle Gloria.”

As I ended the call, movement caught my eye. Gloria was stumbling out of the restaurant, waving off concerned waitstaff. Her face was flushed, her eyes wild. She fumbled with her car keys, dropping them twice before managing to unlock her white Mercedes.

“She can’t seriously be trying to drive,” I muttered in disbelief.

But she was. Gloria practically fell into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind her. Even from a distance, I could see her scratching furiously at her neck now. That wasn’t a normal reaction to sleeping pills.

What exactly had she put in my

drink?

The Mercedes’s engine roared to life. Gloria pulled away from the curb in a jerky motion, nearly sideswiping a parked car before speeding down the street.

I stood frozen for a moment, conflicted. Gloria had tried to drug me, possibly to create some compromising situation with Alistair. She deserved whatever happened to her.

And yet…

“Damn it,” I hissed, fishing my car keys from my purse.

I couldn’t let her drive in that condition. Whatever she’d done, I wouldn’t have her potentially harming herself or others. That would be on my conscience.

I rushed to my car, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Gloria’s white Mercedes was already turning at the intersection ahead, moving erratically. I pulled into traffic, keeping a safe distance but making sure not to lose sight of her.

Her driving became increasingly unpredictable-speeding up, slowing down, drifting between lanes. Twice she nearly hit other vehicles. Whatever drug she’d intended for me was clearly affecting her far more severely than simple sleeping pills would.

At a red light, I watched her head loll forward, then snap back up. She was fighting to stay conscious. My finger hovered over the emergency call button on my phone. Should I call an ambulance? The police?

The Mercedes lurched forward as the light changed, then suddenly pulled over to the curb with a screech of tires. Gloria flung open the door and half-fell onto the sidewalk, retching violently.

I pulled over as well, parking behind her. This had gone beyond petty revenge. Something was seriously wrong with her.

As I got out of my car, I saw Gloria clutching her throat, her face contorted. She was having trouble breathing. Panic surged through me. What if she’d mixed something lethal? What if she was allergic to her own concoction?

I rushed toward her, phone already dialing emergency services.

“Gloria!” I called out. “What did you put in the drink? Tell me!”

She looked up at me, her eyes red and swollen, recognition and hatred flashing across her face. She tried to speak but could only manage a choking sound.

“I need an ambulance,” I told the dispatcher. “Woman in her thirties, possible drug reaction or poisoning.”

Gloria slumped against her car, her breathing raspy. I reluctantly knelt beside her, checking her pulse. Rapid but strong.

“The ambulance is coming,” I told her. “What did you take? It might help the paramedics.”

She glared at me through watery eyes. “You… bitch,” she wheezed. “You switched…”

“Yes, I did,” I admitted. “Now tell me what it was so they can treat you properly.”

Gloria’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. “Was… just supposed to make you… compliant. For Alistair to…”

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