After Discovering His Fake Poverty, I Walked Away

5.

They held each other, sharing what warmth they had.

Footsteps kept passing outside. Men shouting.

“Where the hell did those two go?!”

Debbie ground her teeth. “I should've quit this garbage job. Every last one of them is scum!”

When the coast was clear, Debbie grabbed Clementine's hand and they slipped out of the club.

She called a car and sent Clementine home.

Before she left, Debbie held Clementine tight, her voice thick. “Clem, I owe you for this.”

Clementine's chest ached. She hugged Debbie back just as hard.

After Debbie left, Clementine packed her things, ready to go back to the Pruitt residence.

She had just finished when Cindy's number lit up her screen.

A familiar scream came through the speaker.

Clementine's face drained of color. She gripped the phone until her knuckles went white.

It was Debbie.

“Cindy, don't hurt her. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you.”

Cindy let out a mocking hum, her tone unreadable. “You really do have a good friend. She actually tried to shut down the Hilltop Club for you.”

“You have thirty minutes. If you're not at the club by then, don't blame me for what happens to her.”

Debbie lay on the floor, bruises covering her body. She glared at Cindy and screamed.

“Clementine, don't come!”

Clementine's tears fell instantly, her voice choked. “I'm coming. Just don't hurt her.”

When Clementine arrived at the Hilltop Club, the first thing she saw was Debbie crumpled in the center of the lobby, covered in bruises and open cuts.

Her eyes stung. She knelt and gathered Debbie into her arms. “Deb. Debbie, are you okay?”

Cindy's stiletto heel slammed into Clementine's shoulder. Clementine went down. Her skull cracked against the marble, and pain split through her head.

Cindy sneered. “Worried about her? Maybe worry about yourself first.”

Clementine pushed herself up and shielded Debbie. “What do you want, Cindy? What will it take for you to let us go?”

Cindy considered for a moment, then her red lips curved. Her voice slithered out.

“Text Damon right now. Tell him your first meeting, everything that came after, was all your scheme. Tell him you did it for a payout, and that his rivals can use it against him.”

Clementine stared at Cindy, stunned.

“I... won't say that.”

Cindy shrugged. “Then I guess I have no choice. I recorded a video of your little friend just now. The kind where her clothes come off.”

Clementine felt Debbie tremble in her arms. An invisible fist clamped around her chest until she couldn't breathe.

She looked up at Cindy, her eyes red, her voice shaking. “Fine. I'll send it.”

After the message went out, Cindy deleted the video.

Minutes later, the door to the club was kicked open.

Damon stood there, face black with rage, his eyes boring into Clementine. He crossed the room in long, hard strides.

His hand shot out and closed around her throat. His teeth were clenched. “You'll do anything for money, won't you, Clementine? Anything at all?”

Her face flushed dark. She coughed again and again, tears streaming down.

Damon looked at those tears. Something conflicted moved behind his eyes.

He let go.

Clementine hit the floor hard, gasping for air.

Damon scoffed. “Your feelings are as cheap and disgusting as your tears, Clementine.”

He took Cindy's hand and walked out.

Clementine sat on the floor. Her heart throbbed in waves.

Damon had barely stepped outside when he saw a black stretch Lincoln parked at the entrance.

A bodyguard pulled the door open. A man emerged, one long leg stepping down first, the air around him distant and commanding.

The club manager recognized his face and nearly tripped over himself rushing forward.

“Mr. Sheridan, what an honor! To what do we owe the pleasure? Please, right this way.”

Vincent Sheridan glanced at Damon, a faint curve touching his lips.

[[SYM0265_U201C]]Damon. It's been years. You've forgotten your uncle already?”

Damon's face changed. “Uncle Vincent.”

Cindy's pupils contracted. Disbelief flooded her eyes.

This man was Vincent Sheridan, the legendary heir to the Sheridan fortune.

The Sheridan family's influence spanned a century, and Vincent had seized sole control with an iron hand. Both legitimate business and the underworld deferred to him. His reach ran deep beyond measure.

He ruled the Sheridan family. Even Damon had to address him with respect.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. “I hear my fiancée was mistreated here. I came to set things right.

Damon looked blank. “What... fiancée?”

He had never heard of Vincent having a fiancée.

Vincent's lips curved. “Clementine Pruitt is my fiancée.”

The words landed. Damon's pupils shrank to pinpoints, and he whipped his head toward Vincent.