Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 103

Chapter 103 I’ll Send You a Bigger One

Chapter 103 I’ll Send You a Bigger One

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Margaret stayed quiet, her eyes locked on Tyrone’s face. Something about the way he talked nagged at her -she’d heard that tone somewhere before.

“Host” Primo pulled up a comparison chart in her mind. “The green-eyed one on the left-body frame and gait analysis against the shadow who climbed through your window that night. Ninety percent match.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed.

So that’s why he said he was here to see me. He’s one of my matches?

Sneaking through my window in the middle of the night-that’s his idea of a visit?

She had no patience for people who lurked in the dark and couldn’t respect basic boundaries.

“You’ve seen me.” Margaret pointed at the door, her tone flat and hard. “This floor is Timothy’s private suite. No extra rooms, and we’re not set up for guests. If you want to see me, go wait at the house back on Prime Planet.”

Tyrone’s smile hitched for a single beat. He hadn’t expected her to shut him down so cleanly.

Quentin finally dragged his gaze from the window and glanced at Margaret. Still said nothing. He stood there like a cold, expressionless statue.

“We brought money.” Tyrone pulled an old, worn savings card from his pocket and set it on the table. “We can pay for a room here.”

Timothy rose to his feet and planted himself between Margaret and Tyrone.

“Sorry to disappoint. Every single room in every Hurst Group property across the entire Valoran Galaxy is booked solid for the next two weeks. Not even a broom closet available.” Timothy delivered the eviction with a smirk. “Put your sad little card away. The Hurst Group doesn’t need the pocket change. Door’s right there.”

Tyrone looked into Margaret’s eyes and caught the rejection simmering there.

His gut told him she’d made him.

He rose, smoothed down his clothes, and tucked the savings card back into his pocket.

“It seems Ms. Greene wasn’t satisfied with the welcome gift I sent earlier.” Tyrone paused at the elevator and glanced back at Margaret, a flicker of amusement in his green eyes.

He wasn’t angry. If anything, he found the whole meeting thoroughly entertaining.

“No matter. I’ll send you a bigger one.”

The elevator doors slid shut. The two of them were gone.

Margaret frowned. She had no idea what welcome gift Tyrone was talking about. She dug through her memory and came up with nothing-no package, no delivery, nothing this man had ever sent her.

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12:43 Mon, 6 Jul W

Chapter 103 1ll Send You a Bigger One

She let it go. Whatever Tyrone and Quentin’s angle was, she didn’t have the energy to chase it.

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Timothy slammed the elevator shut with a few choice curses, then turned and drifted back to the sofa. He dropped down next to her, pressed his chin against her shoulder, and nuzzled in.

“My Lady, those two cheap bastards killed the whole vibe. Let me get the kitchen on lunch. Something good to scrub the bad taste out.”

Margaret felt her irritation dissolve despite herself. She reached back and ruffled his golden hair, “Go on, then.”

Timothy hummed a tune, thoroughly pleased with himself, and slipped out to contact the kitchen.

Cheiron got up and headed for the bar, leaving Margaret alone by the floor-to-ceiling windows with the sea breeze drifting in.

Her mind was already turning, working out how to put Phoebe down for good.

Interstellar Era law leaned absurdly far in favor of female gender protections. High-ranking females were vanishingly rare, so even when a female committed the worst possible crimes, the death penalty was basically off the table.

A handful of extreme cases surfaced in the original host’s memories. A high-ranking female had killed over a dozen low-ranking males. Her sentence? Partial loss of political rights, then mandatory relocation to the fringe galaxies to live out her assigned matches. Life imprisonment for a female was already the absolute ceiling of punishment.

Phoebe held S-class female status. Even if Ardon’s death were traced straight back to her, the worst she’d get was a few years of restricted freedom. They’d stick her in some special rehabilitation facility with daily care included.

As long as she was still breathing, she’d find a way to claw back.

Regular legal channels weren’t going to bury Phoebe. That road led nowhere.

But here and now, the situation between them had already crossed into blood feud territory.

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