The Billionaire Ex-Wife and the Beggar He Became novel Chapter 43

The moment Winona saw Yves Prescott, a chill crept over her.

Men like him were capable of anything—there was nothing too ruthless if it served their interests. The more polished and courteous he acted, the more unnerving he became.

Winona forced herself to stay calm. "Mr. Prescott, there's really nothing for us to discuss. If you're not planning to threaten me, I'll delete every photo I took of you. I'm just an ordinary woman who helps design retirement plans for seniors. We live in completely different worlds. I promise you'll never have to see me again, and I have no intention of causing you any trouble. Please, just let me be."

She had a family to care for.

Her grandmother depended on her. She still needed to save up a wedding fund for Mia, who was well into her thirties and still single. And then there was Zane, barely six years old, who needed feeding and looking after.

She couldn't afford to die—nor to make enemies.

"That was all a misunderstanding. I already heard from Wesley that you went to the Riverside Club that day not to pester Julian, but to meet with potential investors. The Prescott Group has deep pockets here in Greenwood City. Investing in your project would only be to your benefit. It doesn't make sense to turn us away over a simple misunderstanding. Besides, I owe you an apology."

With that, Yves Prescott actually bowed respectfully to her.

He was nothing if not adaptable.

It was clear that Yves Prescott was every bit as shrewd and calculating as Julian.

"Mr. Prescott," Winona pressed, "can you tell me why you're so intent on investing in a retirement project? It's not exactly a gold mine, and the returns are slow."

Yves Prescott didn't answer right away.

Honestly, he'd never considered retirement homes as part of his investment portfolio. As Winona had pointed out, there was little money to be made, and what profit there was would take years to materialize.

But just recently, he'd learned that Julian was pouring resources into exactly this sort of project.

And that meant keeping well away from dangerous men like Yves Prescott.

Back in her office, she glanced at the clock. Nearly eight. Picking up her phone, she called Mia. "Mia, could you watch Zane a bit longer? I'm going to be late."

"Oh, come on, Ms. Perkins," Mia teased, loud enough for Zane to hear, "I signed up to be your vice president by day, not your babysitter by night. You can't just exploit me like this! It's late and I'm stuck watching your kid, and you don't even pay me a cent in nanny fees…"

She knew Zane was right there, and she loved teasing him.

Winona simply hung up with a wry smile.

Mia turned to Zane, who was sitting nearby, his big eyes darting curiously around the room. She blinked at him and said, "Well, am I wrong? Your mom leaves you with me and doesn't pay me a thing. I'm looking after you for free, you know."

Zane didn't say a word. Instead, his gaze drifted to the Louis Vuitton purse hanging by the door—the one his mom had bought Aunt Mia for nearly three grand.