Reborn as Mr.CEO's Fat Wife-Chapter 942: The Number One Vinegar King of West Mountain?

Chapter 942: Chapter 942: The Number One Vinegar King of West Mountain?

Young Master Duke had been having a streak of bad luck recently, and now Charlotte Leigh dared to treat him with such disrespect. A flicker of malice flashed through his eyes. "Are you treating me like a beggar?"

Charlotte Leigh scoffed, "Two million isn’t a small amount—it’s enough for an ordinary person to live comfortably for a lifetime. Young Master Duke, don’t be so greedy."

"Ha." Duke Blue’s gaze lingered on Charlotte’s face as a cold chuckle escaped his lips. "Did you think the stuff I handed over last time is all gone? Charlotte Leigh, if you dare play with me, don’t think I’m afraid to crush you!"

"You? A stray dog still dreaming of threatening me? Why don’t you check if you still have your precious ’stuff’?" Charlotte responded coldly. She wouldn’t have let Duke Blue come here without being prepared. From the moment he stepped into her room, she had someone hack into all his accounts and erase everything.

Duke Blue took out his phone after hearing her words. Sure enough, all his files had been completely wiped. His lips tightened briefly before curving into a sinister smile. "Charlotte Leigh, you really are something."

Charlotte casually brushed Duke Blue’s hand away. "I’m not someone you can threaten so easily."

Duke laughed bitterly, the corner of his mouth twitching in mockery. "So you think I’m a pushover? That I’ll screw up twice at the hands of a woman?"

Charlotte shrugged. "Well, who told you to be so stupid?"

She didn’t hold back her words at all.

Duke Blue’s eyes darkened. As Charlotte leisurely crossed her legs and waited for him to take the money and get out like a beaten dog, Duke suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her by the neck. "You bitch! Getting too bold, huh? Acting high and mighty, like you’re offering charity—don’t forget what drove me to this state! Do you really think I’ll let you toy with me again and again?"

Charlotte, utterly unprepared, struggled for air as Duke’s hands tightened around her throat. She’d sparred with him enough times to know that, despite his good looks, he was nothing more than a pretty-faced fool. She had forgotten that even rabbits bite when cornered—let alone someone who wasn’t just a rabbit.

As Duke’s grip tightened, Charlotte’s breath came in labored gasps, her neck trembling in pain. Panicked, she clawed at his arms, trying to free herself. "Mmph... Duke... you’re insane, let me go..."

"Let you go? So you, a bitch, can stay on top of me?" Duke’s voice seethed with hatred.

Smack!

Accompanied by his curse, Duke slapped Charlotte across the face, instantly ruining the carefully crafted look she had spent all morning on. But Duke wasn’t done. Another slap followed, with him snarling, "Nothing but a whore—you tried to use me, didn’t you, and now you want me to be your dog?"

"Mmph... I wasn’t..."

Charlotte’s face turned a fiery red as she struggled to breathe through the constriction on her neck. Meeting Duke’s murderous gaze, she finally felt the sting of fear. She mumbled pleas for mercy, but Duke was relentless. In a fit of rage, he tore off her already flimsy clothes and growled through gritted teeth, "You wretched tramp. Let me teach you to respect me!"

"Mmph, Duke... ah..."

It was nearing New Year’s, and Charlotte’s assistant wasn’t at work yet, leaving her alone in the apartment. From the very beginning, she hadn’t taken Duke seriously. After all, whatever should or shouldn’t have transpired between them had already happened in the past. His visit had caught her entirely off guard. It wasn’t until she lay violated, bound on the bed, with pictures being taken, that she realized just what kind of scum she had provoked.

Listening to Charlotte’s cries for help, Duke felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. He waved his phone mockingly in front of her. "See this? I’ve backed up the files elsewhere. You’d better behave from now on—or else, watch how I destroy you. Think I’m powerless against you, huh?" free𝑤ebnovel.com

Charlotte glared at him with a mix of despair and loathing. For someone who’d hunted geese all her life, she never expected one to peck her in the eye.

Seeing her defiant gaze, Duke slapped her once more. "Look at me like that again, and I’ll beat you every time I see you."

Having delivered his threats, Duke pulled up his pants and walked out of Charlotte’s apartment. In the elevator, he tugged his cap lower, darkly licking the trace of blood on his lip with a malicious smirk. His handsome face belied a twisted satisfaction.

Climbing into the car, Ace looked at him nervously. "Young Master Duke, how did it go?"

"How did it go? That woman wanted to use me, didn’t she? Well, she had to be ready to bleed a little. Drive." Duke replied in an ambiguous tone.

Ace glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "Yes, Young Master Duke. So, what’s next?"

"Next? Lay low for a while." Duke said grimly. Revenge wasn’t off the table, but for now, the online frenzy about his scandals was still hot, and plenty of rivals were capitalizing on it. His only option was to bide his time. Luckily, with Charlotte as his personal ATM, he didn’t have to worry about financial troubles for a while.

And Mary Scott...

Thinking about Mary Scott, a sharp glint flashed in Duke’s eyes. This time, his promise to help Charlotte wasn’t driven purely by greed. He genuinely despised her.

Ever since he met Mary Scott, his luck had taken a nosedive. Now, with someone offering cash, he didn’t mind giving her another push into despair.

With that thought, Duke turned to Ace. "What time is it? Are your contacts reliable?"

"Don’t worry, Young Master Duke," Ace assured confidently.

Duke didn’t say anything further. Pressing on his dark, sleep-deprived eyelids, he closed his eyes as the car headed toward the airport.

Duke wasn’t stupid. If something were to happen to Mary Scott in the show’s production, stringent investigations would inevitably follow. Though he didn’t orchestrate this event, there was no guarantee that David Locke wouldn’t indiscriminately retaliate. Someone would have to take the fall—Charlotte, for one, could stand to bear the brunt.

...

West Mountain.

The breathtaking scenery in the livestream drew admiration from countless viewers.

Compared to those watching it online, Mary Scott stood on the mountain trail, witnessing the stunning view firsthand. The sheer beauty was awe-inspiring.

The snow-covered West Mountain was like a paradise. The cold was bone-chilling, but the sight was truly mesmerizing. It was enough to stir poetic inspiration, though Mary lacked the literary talent. Instead, she took out her phone to snap pictures, taking advantage of the fleeting signal at the mountain base to forward them to David Locke.

In the livestream, viewers noticed Mary’s actions. Some sharp-eyed fans even caught a glimpse of her contact label for David Locke.

The comments section exploded instantly. "Did Mary Scott just send photos to Director Locke? I think I saw the label!"

"I think I saw it too..."

"What did it say?" Those unaware joined the speculation.

Others grew curious alongside them. The viewer who first noticed it managed to recall quickly and typed into the comments, "West Mountain’s First Jealous King? Did I imagine that?"

"Apparently, I didn’t imagine it either—I saw the same thing!"

"No way? Haha, that does have a certain ’vibe,’ doesn’t it?"

"So it’s confirmed that Director Locke really snuck into the show’s production late at night? The bigger question is, who’s he jealous of?" The livestream audience was ever eager to stir trouble.

"Could it be our Brian?" Brian Joule’s fans popped up instantly.

Viewers pondered and agreed—it was possible!

"I think so too. Didn’t you notice Mary Scott was paired with Duke Blue last time? This time she’s grouped with Uncle Foster. I’d bet if women could form teams, Mary would definitely pick Mrs. Murray or Zoe Thatcher today instead!"

"Haha, have you noticed Mary hasn’t interacted with Brian at all this time?"

"I noticed! Before, she occasionally engaged with Master Piers, but even that seems scarce now. Could it really be because of Director Locke’s jealousy?"

"He’s such a playboy himself—how does he have the nerve to be so fixated on Mary Scott? Tsk tsk."

"Hey, stop. Whatever you say, Director Locke’s love life is undeniably colorful. It does feel like there’s some performance element to his relationship with Mary Scott—didn’t anyone see last night’s late-night exposé?"

"What late-night exposé?" someone immediately jumped in to ask.

But after waiting for a while, there was no reply. Searching further revealed the commenter’s account had been banned.

The viewers sniffed out the scent of gossip.

Soon, however, their attention shifted again—to the fact that Stella Murray and Brian Joule’s team had discovered the first clue.

David Locke glanced at his own phone, looking at the freshly received photos. Then he glanced at the viewers’ comments earlier, his brow lifting slightly. West Mountain’s First Jealous King? Seems like a freshly updated contact label—it still felt "warm off the press."

Beside him, Martin, who had barely slept after dealing with the exposé, had been woken up to handle an early morning misunderstanding. Now, looking pale and frazzled, he alternated between glaring at his boss and monitoring online chatter. Occasionally, he nodded off, only to be snapped back to alertness with a sharp pain in his foot. He shot awake and saw Director Locke grinning at him.

Martin shivered at the smile, goosebumps rising instinctively. "D-Director Locke, did something happen?"

He scrambled to recall if he had made any other mistakes today aside from waking up late, only to hear David Locke ask casually, "What do you think a woman means when she gives a man weird nicknames in her contacts?"

"Uh... weird nicknames? Who?" Martin was still not entirely awake.

His query prompted a chilly sensation in the room, which instantly forced him into a fawning smile as his brain geared up. "It depends on what the nickname is, but it usually means the woman’s in love—calling her man something sweet and quirky is her way of showing affection. It means she likes him a lot."

After replying, Martin sneaked a glance at Director Locke, feeling the temperature in the room rise again. He sighed in relief as he wiped his brow, realizing he’d dodged a bullet. Then, Locke unexpectedly patted him on the shoulder. "You’ve been working hard lately. Get the finance team to process your yearly bonus."

Martin froze, his mouth slightly ajar, nearly moved to tears by the promise.

Locke watched Martin’s reaction and then added, "Keep tabs on Charlotte’s situation—and let the industry know that anyone who uses her is picking a fight with me, David Locke."

Martin was stunned. Was this full-on blacklisting? He hurriedly nodded. "I’ll handle it immediately."

David Locke shifted subjects. "How about Duke Blue these days?"

"He’s been shelved by Royal Entertainment. He’s not causing any waves. This morning, he went to Charlotte’s place—probably to extort her." Martin quickly reported.

"Hmm." Locke nodded thoughtfully. "Dog-eat-dog. Let them bite into each other—it’ll spare Mary from unnecessary trouble."

Having wrapped up his questions, Locke refocused on the livestream.

Martin sighed inwardly, then whispered, "Director Locke, the filming for ’The Doctors’ is starting post-New Year. You didn’t rest much last night. Shouldn’t you take a break? There’s also a video conference this afternoon."

Director Locke shot him a faint glance, prompting Martin to flinch, but instead of berating him, Locke walked over to the desk to boot up his computer. "No need for a break. Have the hotel send over a projector. Move the meeting up sooner, too."

Martin didn’t understand the reasons behind these orders but still went ahead and arranged them.

The projector arrived swiftly. David Locke had the livestream visuals projected onto the hotel wall while he opened his laptop to start the meeting.

The show’s team would be live-streaming all day. Locke knew he couldn’t be glued to his phone the whole time, but he was reluctant to stop watching Mary Scott. Especially since her pictures and newly assigned label had amused him and significantly eased the tension he’d been feeling due to Lambert Norman.

Martin witnessed Locke multitask for the first time—a mixture of work and obsessed livestream viewing. He opened his mouth to say something but decided against it, thinking, "Well, as long as you’re happy..."

And then, Locke unexpectedly turned to him. "Make sure to record everything."

Martin: "..."

Alright, men in love were truly incomprehensible. Those past flings and relationships of Director Locke had been mere promotional props, after all.

Having internally complained, Martin begrudgingly went off to set up the recording. Just as he got started, his phone buzzed with a call from Swallow City. After answering, he frowned slightly. "Director Locke, Duke Blue left Charlotte’s place and immediately flew abroad."

David Locke raised an eyebrow. "Flying out at this time?"

"Charlotte’s account was just debited five million. Duke Blue must have extorted that money and fled. His reputation domestically is ruined—he’s probably hiding out to cool off for a while," Martin speculated.

Locke listened but didn’t seem entirely convinced. His brows remained furrowed. "Keep investigating."

"Yes." Although Martin felt there wasn’t much left to uncover, he knew to follow orders.

With Martin gone, Locke resumed listening to progress reports from his video conference team while stealing occasional glances at the projection screen.

The current livestream feed happened to feature Mary Scott alongside James Jerome.

Stella Murray and Brian Joule had earned an early lead in locating the first clue card, which gave Mary a sense of urgency, prompting her to finally shift her focus back to the treasure map.

But this urgency was clearly one-sided. After searching intently for a while, Mary noticed James Jerome typing something intently on his phone. She walked over curiously. "Mr. Foster, are you analyzing the clue messages?"

James Jerome spared her a quick glance. "No."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "No? Then what are you working on so seriously?"

"Writing poetry," James answered with pride.

Mary: "..."

She blinked, wondering if she had misheard him. Taking in the breathtaking view of West Mountain once more, she asked hesitantly, "Writing poetry?"

"I’m almost done. Give me a moment, and I’ll recite it for you. Mary, I’ve always wanted to climb West Mountain, but busyness or laziness held me back until now. Finally being here, especially under such stunning snowy scenery, I just had to get a taste of the joys ancient poets found. Wait nearby—I’ll be finished shortly." With that, James dove back into his work.

Realizing she wasn’t mistaken, Mary awkwardly rubbed her nose but chose not to leave. She was aware that West Mountain had inspired many famous poets over the years. Seeing its grandeur herself, she felt similar poetic urges, yet lacked the skills. This left her feeling genuine anticipation for James Jerome’s creative output.

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