The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 335

Chapter 164/1

Chapter 164-1

The clubhouse usually hums with life by mid-morning.

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On an ordinary eleven o’clock on a Friday, you’d hear the deafening clatter of air wrenches echoing from the garage bays out back, the heavy bass of rock music bleeding through the walls, and the low, constant rumble of Harley engines rolling across the gravel lot.

Today, as Locke and I walk up the front steps, the entire property is dead silent.

I frown slightly, glancing down at my watch. 11:27 AM. The sun is blazing in a crisp, clear sky, but the heavy doors of the main entrance sit completely shut, and the dark tint on the clubhouse

windows makes the interior look like a pitch-black cave.

“That’s weird,” I murmur, shifting my leather tote bag over my shoulder. “Where is everybody?”

Beside me, Locke doesn’t look even remotely surprised. His handsome face is a mask of perfect,

innocent calm, though I catch the tiny, suspicious twitch at the corner of his mouth as he reaches

out to push the heavy double doors open.

“Maybe they’re all down at the firing range,” Locke offers smoothly, his voice dropping into that deep, unbothered register. “Or checking the perimeter line.”

“At eleven-thirty in the morning? All of them?” I give him a narrow-eyed look as we step over the

threshold into the dark room. “Locke… what’s going on?”

The moment both of my boots clear the threshold, the quiet dark of the main clubhouse room

erupts.

BANG!

The overhead lights slam on all at once, blinding me in a flash of bright amber and white. Party

poppers explode in a chorus of sharp cracks, sending metallic gold and crimson streamers raining down from the high timber rafters like a shower of sparkling glitter.

“SURPRISE!”

A roaring, earth-shaking chorus of dozens of booming male voices hits the heavy walls, shaking

the glasses and bottles behind the bar.

I freeze, my jaw dropping in absolute shock, my hands flying up to cover my mouth.

The entire main floor of the clubhouse – a space normally reserved for heavy leather furniture, tactical strategy maps, cold beer and whiskey chasers – has been completely transformed.

Hanging right across the stone fireplace is a massive, hand-painted canvas banner stretching

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Jade doesn’t wait for Mayhem to finish. She darts forward through the crowd, carrying a gorgeous,

hand-woven crown made of fresh pink peonies, white baby’s breath, and dark green eucalyptus

leaves. It’s a perfect replica and smaller version of the bouquet she gave me last night.

“Stand still,” Jade says happily, placing the floral crown gently onto my head, adjusting it over my dark hair like a tiara. “There. The Queen of the Club, officially crowned and officially cancer-free.”

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Chapter 164 2

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