The Billionaire Ex-Wife and the Beggar He Became novel Chapter 82

"Mia." Winona said, her voice trembling. "Listen, if I don't call you back in ten minutes, send the photo I sent you to every major news outlet. Tell them it was taken in the last moments before my death, and that I was with Yves Prescott."

Yves Prescott stared at her, realization dawning.

On the other end of the call, Mia's voice cracked as she started to cry. "Winona, what's going on? Weren't you just going to visit Grandma at the Shepherds'? How did you end up with Yves Prescott? Why are you talking about dying—if you die, what will happen to me, to Grandma, to all of us?"

"Just do as I say. Ten minutes. If I don't call, send the photo. Promise me, Mia!"

"Okay, I promise!" When it came to moments like this, Mia always listened to her big sister.

Winona gave Yves Prescott a nod, signaling for him to end the call.

As soon as he hung up, she snatched the phone from his hand, tore herself away, and put a good few feet between them. She looked at him as if she were staring death in the face. His expression grew stormy.

She drew a shaky breath. "Listen, Yves Prescott. Hitting you was an accident! I never wanted to work with you, and I certainly didn't trick you. So why are you trying to ruin me? Just because you find me disgusting? I get it, you want Felicity—I understand! She's the kind of woman every man dreams about. But you know what? Not every woman in this world is a fairytale princess. Some of us, like me, are the punchlines you use for target practice, the ones you call bitch and treat like dirt. You've already said as much—do you really think I'd still be afraid of you?"

Yves Prescott was left speechless.

He was honestly stunned by her defiance.

"Take back whatever threat you sent out. I swear, if you don't, my best friend will leak that photo to every site in the country in ten minutes. Greenwood City isn't that big—we're bound to run into each other again. I don't want to risk my life every time I see you! If you leave me alone, I'll never release that photo. Goodbye."

With that, Winona spun on her heel, yanked open the car door, started the engine, and drove away.

Yves Prescott just stood there, frozen, long after her car vanished from sight.

He had, in fact, come here today for Felicity.

Winona was right: every man wants a beautiful, elegant woman.

He wanted Felicity.

Julian liked Felicity. So did he.

But now, hearing all this, hearing himself laid bare by Winona—a woman he had always dismissed as shallow and idiotic—left him reeling.

Winona had just threatened him with a scalpel pressed to his throat. If he'd really wanted to stop her, he could have snapped her fragile wrist in a heartbeat. She was never a real threat to him physically.

And yet, her actions had completely upended his view of her.

There was a kind of fierce, unyielding courage in her, a refusal to accept her fate, a raw, fighting spirit that seemed even more real than all of Felicity's dazzling strengths. She was stubborn, resilient, fiercely alive.

Watching her car disappear down the road, Yves Prescott touched the thin, bloody scratch on his neck, almost amused.

"Winona… Impressive," he murmured, voice tinged with something close to anticipation. "I can't believe I'm actually looking forward to seeing you again."