The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 482

Chapter 212: Trophy of a Fool

His eyes went wild as he lunged forward, his hands reaching for her throat as if he could choke the truth right back into her lungs.

But he didn’t even get close.

Before Bill could take a second step, Monroe was a blur of motion. He closed the distance instantly, his hand clamping onto Bill’s shoulder like a steel vice while his other arm locked across the older man’s chest in a crushing hold.

“That’s enough,” Monroe said. His voice was dangerously low and steady, a sharp contrast to Bill’s hysterical screaming.

Despite the older man’s frantic struggling and the veins popping out in his neck, he couldn’t move an inch.

Brandy nearly toppled backward, her high heels skidding across the polished floor as she jerked away to avoid Bill’s lunging attack.

The sudden, undignified stumble tripped a wire deep inside her, but instead of screaming, she

threw her head back and let out a sharp, insulting laugh that echoed off the high ceilings.

“Not so high and mighty now that you’re being pinned like the animal you are, are you?” she jeered, her eyes dancing with a jagged, manic light.

She stepped closer, leaning into the space Monroe had cleared, her voice dripping with venom.” Fuck you, Bill! You’ve been shoving your filth down everyone’s throats for years-it’s time you finally had a taste of your own medicine. Swallow it.”

She turned her attention back to Hudson, her expression shifting from mocking laughter to a cold, unblinking focus.

“Do you want to know what’s really happening under your nose during paid company hours, Mr. Blackwood?” she sneered. Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with the volatile weight of a secret that had been waiting for the right moment to explode.

“I’m not the first. There was a girl before me-from the same club-offered the exact same setup. But this old creep got her pregnant.”

She jerked her chin toward Bill, who looked violently ill.

“He ended up paying her a fortune in hush money just to get rid of the kid and flee the country before his wife found out,” she spat, her laughter turning cold.

“All his dirty laundry, all his twisted little fantasies-they’re all being handled right here in the comfort of your company.”

She stepped closer, her voice rising to reach every ear in the room.

“This sleazebag director of yours turned this place into his personal brothel, and you’re the one signing the checks.”

Bill’s knees buckled so hard he completely collapsed, sagging uselessly in Monroe’s grip. He was the pathetic picture of a man caught in a trap he had set for himself.

The air in the office grew impossibly heavy as Hudson finally broke the silence.

He adjusted his stance, his gaze shifting from the broken man on the floor to Brandy, his expression unreadable and stony.

“Ms. Martinez,” Hudson said, his voice low and vibrating with a dangerous level of authority. “This is a serious accusation.”

Brandy didn’t blink. She didn’t retreat. Instead, she let out a dry, humorless huff and tilted her head,

“See?” she said softly. “He’s even doing the math for you.”

The silence that followed was heavy and absolute, broken only by the sound of Bill’s own ragged breathing. It took a few seconds for the adrenaline to clear-seconds where the words “I paid you” seemed to hang in the air like a neon sign.

Bill’s eyes went wide, darting from Brandy’s smug expression to Hudson’s icy, immovable s

The realization hit him like a physical blow.

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. He looked down at his own hands as if they belonged to a stranger, finally understanding that he hadn’t just insulted Brandy-he had signed his own death warrant.

He tried to pull back, to swallow the words, but they were already out there, vibrating in the ears of every employee on the floor.

Hudson didn’t just speak; he projected a cold, predatory stillness that made everyone else in the office feel like they were breathing thin air.

He looked down at Bill-not with the anger of a boss, but with the cold, detached curiosity of a man looking at a bug he was about to crush.

“What you do in your personal life and your own time is none of my business,” Hudson began. His voice was a low, silky rasp that sent a shiver down the spines of everyone watching. “It only becomes my business when you start dragging my name and my company into the dirt.”

He stepped closer, the polished leather of his shoe stopping mere inches from Bill’s trembling hand. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a whisper that only Bill-and the terrified front row- could hear.

“And nobody… I mean nobody in their right mind dares to cross me. I actually admire your confidence, Mr. Franklin. You have the kind of guts that usually end up spilled on a sidewalk.”

Hudson’s eyes were black voids, devoid of any humanity. “But your horns are getting a little too long. It’s time to snap them off at the skull.”