The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 539

Chapter 265-2

I watch through the tinted glass as his head snaps up, a look of brief, genuine surprise flashing across his sharp, narrow face. He slowly sets his clipboard down on the passenger seat, his lips curving into a slow, mocking smile as he rolls down his driver’s side window.

The smell of stale coffee and body odor rolls out of the car.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, leaning his elbow on the window frame, his eyes scanning me with a slow, offensive arrogance. “If it isn’t the princess of the Grinning Skulls stepping out of her golden cage. You’re out of bounds, little girl. Should you really be walking around in the

cold in your condition?”

I stop two feet from his car door, resting my hands lightly over the swell of my pregnant belly, my face an unreadable, frozen mask of stone. “Detective Miller.”

“Look at you,” Detective Miller sneers, his gaze dropping down to my midsection, his tone dripping with a bitter, misogynistic malice that makes my skin crawl. “Look at that bump. Gonna be getting heavy soon, huh? Hard to carry around all by yourself.”

I say nothing. I just stare into his eyes, letting the quiet silence stretch between us.

“It’s a shame, really,” Detective Miller continues, leaning further out the window, his smile widening. “I couldn’t help but notice you aren’t staying at that nice little ocean–view penthouse anymore. My boys checked on that. Looks like you’re stuck in some shithole studio in the old factory district.”

He lets out a short, bark–like laugh, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

“Can’t say I’m shocked you were booted out,” Detective Miller taunts, his voice dropping into a low, vicious purr. “That’s what all these biker scum assholes do, isn’t it? The second a broad gets knocked up, the thrill is gone. I gotta admit, though, I am a little surprised Cobra lets his princess live in a hole in the wall.”

My jaw tightens slightly, but I keep my eyes locked on his, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing a single tear or a flinch.

“Then again,” Detective Miller hisses, leaning closer, his eyes cold and nasty. “Maybe your daddy dearest doesn’t give a s**t about you either. That’s how these MC assholes operate,

hapter 65 2

right? The patch always takes precedence over blood. Even his own daughter’s.”

exh Pointa

The sheer, disgusting audacity of his words hangs in the air, dirty and vile.

Every instinct in my body screams at me to lash out, to scream, to smash his side mirror…

but I force my heart rate down, swallowing the bitter nausea rising in my throat.

I step a half–inch closer to his car door, leaning down slightly so my face is level with his.

“Are you finished, Detective?” I ask, my voice terrifyingly calm, smooth, and laced with

absolute venom. “Hmmm?”

Detective Miller’s smirk falters just a fraction, caught off guard by the total lack of fear in my eyes. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Just making an observation, Mrs. McVale.”

“It’s Ms. Callahan, and now let me make an observation for you,” I say, my eyes narrowing into two sharp slits. “You’re sitting here with four squad cars and six officers, wasting city tax dollars to watch a pregnant woman and a clubhouse full of grieving men who just buried two of their brothers… you think you’re holding a fortress.”

“We’re keeping the peace,” he mutters, his tone losing some of its cocky edge. “You know

“What?”

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