The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 255

Chapter 128-2

Becca sniffs loudly, hastily dabbing her wet cheek with a manicured hand, careful not to mess up her outfit, her voice shaking violently.

“I didn’t invite anyone, you did.”

“What?”

Clam

“It’s Willow. You invited her over for dinner tonight, Knox. Don’t you remember? You called her yesterday and told her to come over at seven. I mean… the caterers were here all afternoon preparing vegan dishes.”

I freeze. The violent rush of blood in my ears slows just a fraction as her words sink in.

Willow.

Fuck. The dinner. I completely forgot.

I take a slow, deep breath, forcing my hand away from my gun, forcing the wild, manic edge down into the dark corners of my mind. I run my fingers through my hair, exhaling a long, shuddering breath of stagnant

air.

Willow. Cobra’s long-lost daughter. Zara’ and Mayhem’s half-sister.

The girl Cobra tossed out of the nest the second she proved too unhinged to handle, right before I swept in and took her for coffee.

She’s dripping with bitter, poisonous fury, out for absolute blood against Cobra and the entire club for abandoning her.

For weeks, Becca and I have been playing the sympathetic ears, feeding her ego, letting her vent her hatred over wine and catered meals.

And the best part? I’ve been pumping her for every drop of information she has, without ever letting on that I’m actually Zara’s estranged husband. To Willow, I’m just Knox, a high-ranking guy in a rival MC, someone from that world who sees how unfair the club was to her, a friend willing to listen to her rage.

And just like that, the chaotic, frantic noise in my brain stops. The haze of panic clears, leaving behind a cold, crystal-clear realization.

Willow.

A sudden, sharp smile touches the corners of my mouth.

I don’t need to panic about Vane’s fentanyl right this second. I don’t need to waste time trying to track down missing trucks that are already lost in the wind, and long gone.

What I need is raw, liquid cash, and I need it fast. Millions of it, enough to settle my account with Vane, buy my way out of this trap, and regain my safety and all control.

And who has more cash than Locke?

After seeing the building that he lives in, I did some covert digging into the asshole. Turns out that Locke

<Chaptes 12-9-

Claim

is a fucking idiot who turned his back on the Tarmer multi-million-dollar empire to play bad ass biker with an MC. Locke owns that fortress of a penthouse overlooking the ocean and mountains, and he owns it free and clear.

And according to Willow Locke would burn the entire world to ash just to keep Zara happy and fucking him.

So if I can grab Zara…

My mind starts racing, connecting the dots with terrifying speed.

Zara is weak. Willow says that she’s actually really sick, which makes her delightfully vulnerable.

If I can pull off a quick, clean snatch-and-grab, I hold the ultimate bargaining chip.

Locke would clear out his entire personal fortune, every offshore account, every nickel he saved from his days in fucking high society, just to get her back unharmed.

I can demand millions. Ten million. Fifteen million. Enough to pay off Vane, settle every debt hanging over my head. Clear the board, start again… the right way this time.

And Willow is the perfect blade to cut through Zara’s defenses.

Willow wants revenge on Cobra, Mayhem and Zara more than she wants her next breath. She’s blind enough with hatred that I can manipulate her into helping me snatch Zara right out from under Locke’s

nose.

Willow thinks she’s using us for a platform to spit her venom, but she’s about to become my weapon.

I turn back toward Becca, adjusting my leather jacket, smoothing down the collar as I arrange my expression into something resembling calm, controlled composure.

“Fix your mascara,” I order Becca in a quiet, icy voice, not even bothering to look at her as she scrambles out of the chair and hurries toward the hallway mirror. “And get the food plated. We have a guest to

entertain.”

I take one last deep breath, letting the thrill of a new plan settle the frantic, animal urge inside my chest. For the first time in weeks, I can see a way out.

I pull the front door open, instantaneously flipping a switch in my brain. The lethal rage vanishes, replaced by an expression of effortless warmth, eyes soft, an open smile spreading across my face.

“Willow,” I say, stepping back to let her in. “Look at you. Come in out of the cold, honey.”

She steps into the warm foyer, shivering under a damp coat that looks a size too small. Her cheeks are flushed red, her eyes swollen and rimmed with red: she’s clearly been crying in her shitbox hippie car before walking up to the door. She looks fragile, broken, and desperate for any scrap of human warmth.

“Knox,” she says, her voice trembling as she looks up at me with pathetically eager eyes. “I… I hope I’m not late. I was so worried I misheard the time. I didn’t know if you still wanted me over…”

“Late? Never,” I say softly, reaching out and gently taking her coat. “You’re always welcome here, Willow, you know that. Becca and I have been looking forward to this all day. We’ve got a whole vegan spread waiting in the kitchen.”

23

<Chapter 129-

Her lip quivers, a single tear spilling over her eyelashes as she practically wilts under my touch, desperately drinking in the fake sympathy.

Clam

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice thick with raw, needy gratitude. “You have no idea what it means… nobody else listens to me, Knox, My father… Zara… they all treated me like garbage and threw me away. You two are the only real friends I have left.”

“They’re fools, Willow,” I say, lowering my voice to an intimate, conspiratorial murmur. “They didn’t appreciate what they had in you… but don’t worry. We’re going to take care of you tonight. Come sit down.”

As she walks past me into the living room, completely oblivious, my warm smile morphs into a cold, ruthless sneer. She’s weak, desperate, and hanging on my every word.

She’s the absolute perfect puppet, ready to be pulled by her strings right into my trap.

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