The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 198

Hans nodded. “I’ll call Cheryl right away.”

“Remember to use a burner. She’s sharp—she’ll trace your number if you’re not careful.” Arthur’s brow creased with concern; he didn’t want Cheryl tracking them through an IP address.

“I know.” Hans slipped away.

A moment later, Arthur’s phone buzzed. The caller wanted to confirm, “Is tonight’s big event still happening as planned?”

Arthur replied: [Everything as planned. Board at 1 a.m.]

A curt “Ok!” appeared in response.

——

Sengo Hotel.

Cheryl fielded Hans' call, who dryly asked if she wanted Lester’s body left in one piece.

She wasn’t in the mood to deal with anything else, so she shot back, “Got no money. Get lost.”

After hanging up, Cheryl mentioned the call to Yves.

Yves, ever perceptive, shrugged it off. “He’s just teasing you. Everyone knows how stingy you are—who’d expect you to cough up two million for a ransom?”

Cheryl looked baffled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We all know you. Whoever grabbed Lester, it’s got to be Arthur. I got a call to play hero and rescue him, not ten minutes after Lester was taken.”

Honestly, with Lindsay or Lester in Arthur’s hands, they were relatively safe. His relationship with Arthur was complicated—part rivalry, part alliance.

This whole fiasco? Probably Arthur’s way of getting a rise out of him.

“Arthur’s got issues, I swear. Does he think this is funny? Doesn’t he realize I could trace his location from the phone number?” Cheryl gritted her teeth, fists clenched. “Next time I see him, I’ll send every damn ghost I know to haunt him senseless.”

“He’s not afraid of you—why would a few ghosts scare him?”

“Drop it, Lester. I know you better than you know yourself.” She let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Your first reaction was jealousy, then you figured I must have seduced someone to get off easy.”

Lester’s face drained of color. How did she know what he was thinking? Was she a mind reader?

“I didn’t—You’re imagining things.”

Lindsay just smirked and turned away, ending the conversation.

The car sped along the empty streets and soon pulled up at the docks. Out on the water, a gleaming cruise ship waited, its name glowing in bold letters: “The Coastal Gala.”

They were marched out of the car.

The moment Lester saw the ship’s name, his whole body went rigid, color draining from his face.

Lindsay’s expression dimmed as well. She was no innocent—she knew exactly what kind of debauchery “The Coastal Gala” was infamous for.