Undressed By His Arrogance-Chapter 228: You’re Here Already

"No, you’re just a trust fund fucker."

And then Winn turned his back on him—because that was the ultimate dismissal—and walked away. He signaled to Reese, who stood nearby drinking water and watching the entire encounter.

Reese tossed his empty bottle into a bin and nodded, ready to follow Winn’s lead.

Winn slid into his Maybach, the door closing.

Eugene exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his hair as he watched the luxury car glide away.

The construction site bustled behind him—machines humming, workers shouting, dust rising in the heat—but all he could think of was the volcanic temper he’d just witnessed up close.

He had heard about Winn Kane. Everyone in business circles had.

But Eugene had always been the type to give people the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t judge based on rumors. He believed in personal experience.

Well...

The man just proved everything being said about him right.

He pulled out his phone to call Ivy, thumb hovering over her name, when her golf cart buzzed up in a cloud of dust.

She braked right in front of him, ponytail sticking out the back of her safety helmet, cheeks flushed from the sun and the stress of pretending everything was normal when her life was anything but.

"Hey Ivy!" Eugene called out, waving.

"Eugene? You’re here already?" she asked, hopping down with her tablet in hand.

"Aren’t you ready?" he asked.

"I’m just about done." She pushed her hair back. "I just need to run something by Mr Kane."

"Oh, he just left." Eugene said quickly.

"Oh." She sighed—actual relief washing over her face. "I’ll send him an email then."

There was a beat, as if she expected Winn’s shadow to appear out of nowhere and drag her back into the storm of his drama. When it didn’t, she visibly relaxed.

"So we can go?" Eugene grinned.

"Of course."

"Sweet! I was beginning to feel like a fish out of water out here."

"A cute fish," she teased, stepping around him toward his car.

Eugene’s gasp was dramatic. "Awww... look at that. She thinks I’m cute. Progress."

Ivy smirked. "You know—cute, like a puppy."

"A puppy?" he groaned. "What is it with you and dogs?"

"They’re fluffy, friendly, occasionally chaotic. Kinda reminds me of you."

"I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered."

"Take your pick," she said, walking toward his car. Their banter floated through the construction dust—easy, light, the opposite of the heavy, complicated tension Winn always brought into a room.

Eugene unlocked the car and opened the door for her. Ivy slid in.

*****

Winn sat in the Heathcliffe & Associates conference room. Maurice Heathcliffe sat beside him, tapping his pen as if it were the metronome to Winn’s barely contained fury.

At the opposite end of the long table sat Sharona.

Alone.

Of course she was alone. She didn’t need counsel—she was the storm.

Her blood-red lipstick was immaculate. Her outfit was designer. Her posture screamed "I dare you."

If she had walked in holding a pitchfork and smoke trailing her heels, it would’ve felt more honest.

"Mrs Kane..." Maurice began carefully.

He didn’t make it past the first syllable.

"Don’t call her that!" Winn snapped.

"But it is my name, isn’t it?" Sharona shot back sweetly, folding her hands. "You wanted me to have it."

"For a month." Winn shouted.

Maurice placed a steady arm on Winn’s shoulder. Winn looked one breath away from leaping across the table and wringing Sharona’s neck. And frankly, Maurice wouldn’t blame him. Sharona had that effect on people. Her presence alone could sour milk.

"Let me handle this," Maurice murmured before straightening. "Mrs. Kane," he began, folding his hands, "I have repeatedly advised you to come to these proceedings with legal counsel. The case Mr. Kane has against you is solidly airtight."

"And I have something you bozos aren’t understanding yet," she said. "I have freedom of speech. I will talk. And I will sing. And the world will know Winn Kane is a fraud who only married me to access his grandfather’s wealth."

"Imagine how the Orchard extended family will feel. I’m sure they’ll contest the will—maybe even claw back some assets. Who knows?" She shrugged lightly.

Winn exhaled slowly, fists clenched on the table.

Maurice tapped the documents in front of him. "It is a breach of the contract you signed with Mr. Kane," he said. "And Mr. Kane is prepared to damn the consequences. You will go to jail, Mrs. Kane. And you will refund the fifty million Mr. Kane paid you originally."

"Mr. Kane only wants one thing: for you to sign the divorce papers. If you refuse, he doesn’t care how much you spill. We will take this to court and we will make sure we lock you away for as long as the law can stretch."

Sharona’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin, red line. She crossed her legs slowly, defiantly, but there was tension in her shoulders now. She wasn’t as untouchable as she pretended.

"You have one month to mull this over," Maurice finished, neatly stacking the documents. "One month to decide if you would prefer a quiet exit—or a loud, humiliating, public downfall."

Sharona looked at Winn then.

His face was carved stone.

His eyes were ice and murder.

"Tick-tock, Sharona," Winn murmured. "Enjoy your countdown."

"The contract states that I will get twenty percent of Winn’s inheritance. I am nowhere even close. The courts will side with me. He hasn’t kept his end of the deal," Sharona snapped.

Maurice inhaled through his nose slowly, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and fixed Sharona with a stare that made even Winn sit a little straighter.

"Mrs. Kane," Maurice began, "I am not going to argue with you. The law is on our side here."

Sharona scoffed loudly. "The law? Please."

Maurice opened a folder and slid a set of papers forward. "Your contract is conditional. You were entitled to twenty percent, if you divorced in a month, upheld your obligations, and if you did not divulge any information concerning your marriage."