She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 849

Lucian paused mid-stride. He didn't bother turning around.

"That is above your pay grade. Just do what you do best, and get me the extraction protocols for this chip."

The only reason the pirated chip hadn't triggered a lethal fail-safe was the cocktail of nerve damage in his blood, combined with the heavy suppression from the Frost Peppermint. As long as he kept his heart rate steady and smothered his murderous rage, he wouldn't flatline.

It was a cheap knockoff anyway. It could never match the genius of his wife's original design.

The heavy car door opened and shut with a solid thud.

The sedan glided away, its red taillights bleeding into the rainy night until they vanished completely.

Nathan stood rooted to the pavement. The rain washed over his face, doing nothing to wash away the chaotic, terrifying ambition clawing its way up his throat.

He stood there for a long time.

It wasn't until the storm broke and the sky bled into a bruised, grayish dawn that he finally forced his stiff legs to move.

***

In the backseat of the sedan, Lucian kept his eyes shut, resting his head against the leather.

Quintin tapped on the partition window and slid a small, unmarked vial over the console, looking nervous. "This stuff is heavy on the nervous system, Boss. Play it safe."

Lucian slipped the vial into his pocket, his expression unreadable. "Is this plan of yours actually going to work?"

Quintin flashed a cocky grin. "Sigrid has never been told 'no' in her life. Women like her thrive on the push and pull. Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. Trust me, I did the math."

Over the next few days, Lucian flawlessly executed the playbook.

He morphed into a high-society playboy. He was suddenly everywhere—exclusive galas, underground poker games, VIP lounges—and he was never alone. One night it was a tech billionaire's daughter; the next, an A-list runway model; the night after that, a gorgeous blonde he picked up at a bar.

And Sigrid 'accidentally' caught him almost every single time.

The first incident was at a post-auction cocktail lounge. Lucian was slouched in a velvet booth, a stunning woman in a crimson dress practically sitting in his lap, laughing hysterically at something he said. His arm was draped over the back of the sofa, claiming the space with effortless, arrogant charm.

Sigrid stood frozen at the entrance, her grip on her champagne flute so tight the crystal threatened to snap.

Lucian noticed her, gave a lazy, dismissive nod, and immediately went back to whispering in the redhead's ear.

That night, Sigrid kicked the door to his suite open.

"Lucian! Who the hell was that woman?!"

He was standing by the mirror, slowly undoing his silk tie. He glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes utterly dead. "A business partner."

"Since when do business partners sit on your lap?!"

Lucian didn't even dignify that with a response. He just turned around and threw the tie on the chair.

Sigrid was shaking with rage, but his glacial indifference left her with absolutely zero leverage. He wasn't showing any signs of physical distress, which meant the microchip registered no actual betrayal. He was technically telling the truth.

"Nathan." Lucian's jaw tightened. "How many times did you sleep with him?"

"That's in the past! Why do you keep throwing that in my face?!" She felt cornered, furious that he was weaponizing her history.

Lucian didn't answer. He just looked away, staring out the rain-slicked window.

"You're still in love with Loyce, aren't you?" she spat, the venom masking her deep insecurity. "You talk a big game about being jealous, about wanting me, but it's a lie! You don't touch me! I can't even get into your bedroom! You're basically useless to me in bed, and you're mad that I had to take care of my own needs?"

Lucian's face turned lethal. He slammed his hand on the divider. "Pull over!"

The driver slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt right in front of a five-star luxury hotel.

Lucian dragged Sigrid out of the car, hauled her into the lobby, and slapped a black card on the front desk to grab a penthouse key.

Sigrid stumbled into the elevator, breathless. "You... you booked a room here?"

"You said you wanted to get laid, didn't you?"

He shoved the penthouse door open and pushed her inside.

The lights flared on. The massive king-sized bed was buried under a sea of red rose petals. Bouquets, champagne, and flickering candles lined the floor.

Sigrid gasped, her eyes immediately welling up. Men threw money at her all the time, but nothing had ever hit her as hard as this.