I Choose Him, Your Worst Enemy novel Chapter 200

Lorelei didn't deny a word.

She just smiled at Wynette. "None of that's the point. The point is, the baby in my belly is a golden ticket to the Shepherds right now."

Justin and Eve were both treating Lorelei with kid gloves.

After all, the child she was carrying was the Shepherd family's only hope.

Wynette said nothing.

She just offered a quiet reminder. "The Shepherds aren't easy marks. Watch your back."

"Why do you think I'm here?" Lorelei smiled brightly.

The moment she'd learned Noah was attending the fashion show, she'd insisted on tagging along.

She couldn't care less about the show. Wynette was the real reason she was here.

Wynette held her gaze. "What do you want from me?"

"I know you've got Adriel behind you now. With him in your corner, taking down the Shepherds would be child's play. I want to propose an alliance." Lorelei laid her cards on the table.

She continued, her tone nonchalant. "You want the Shepherds gone too, don't you? Right now, our goals are aligned. I can't do it alone, not even close. But you can.

"Wynette, I need your help. I want every last Shepherd to pay." Lorelei's teeth were practically grinding.

Her eyes were blazing with hatred—not just anger, but a bone-deep loathing that burned behind her pupils.

The transformation baffled Wynette.

The last time they'd met, Lorelei hadn't been this consumed by rage.

Something had happened in between. Something Wynette didn't know about.

Lorelei seemed to sense the scrutiny. She reined herself in. "Take your time. I'm not in a rush."

She only needed one thing: the Shepherds destroyed.

Partnering with Wynette was the best option available.

If Wynette said no, Lorelei would accept it.

She was here to test the waters.

Wynette looked at her. "Why should I trust you?"

Lorelei coming to her didn't mean Wynette had to believe her.

Lorelei said quietly, "You can stop looking for Dawn. She's dead."

She pulled out her phone and scrolled to a set of photos.

On the screen: a skeletal woman, filthy, barely recognizable.

Lorelei set the photos to auto-play slideshow.

One after another, the images rolled past.

Dawn's body was covered in bruises and injuries. Her eyes were hollow, vacant. A chain was locked around her ankle.

The final few photos showed a crude little mound of dirt.

It was more of a heap than a grave.

A crooked piece of scrap wood stood at its head, with "Dawn's Grave" scratched into it in shaky letters.

After the photos, a short video played.

In it, someone was asking about Dawn. Different people, same answer: she's dead. Been dead. Got sick—some filthy disease—and died screaming.

Lorelei spoke. "Years ago, Dawn helped Eve steal your mother's bidding floor price. After it was done, Eve handed Dawn over to an old man in the countryside. He couldn't perform, so he beat her instead. Every day.

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