CHAPTER_DETAIL_H1

When Winona got into her car and gripped the steering wheel, her fingers were trembling uncontrollably.

The brutal mention of her baby had sent her emotions spiraling into a dark, chaotic abyss.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, then slammed her foot onto the gas pedal.

Her phone buzzed with a message from K; it was the intel she needed on Jeffrey Yates.

Jeffrey was currently in Empire City.

Winona punched the address into her GPS and sped across town.

But by the time she arrived at the cheap motel, the front desk informed her that he had checked out two hours ago.

Anticipating her arrival, he had left a folded note with the receptionist.

The handwriting was barely legible scrawl, dripping with blatant extortion.

*If you want me to shut up online, wire fifty million dollars to this account. Otherwise, say goodbye to your glamorous life.*

Fifty million dollars?

The absolute audacity of the man.

Disgusted, she crumpled the paper and tossed it into the nearest trash can.

The moment she slid back into the driver's seat, her phone rang with his name on the screen.

"Winona, Winona. You had my legs broken all those years ago, but you never thought I'd crawl back, did you? You ungrateful bitch. You lived the high life for years and never gave your parents a second thought. After the sick things we did just to put you in that mansion! Fifty million dollars, not a penny less, or I'm dropping all the receipts."

He sounded smug, utterly convinced he had her backed into a corner. "I'm going to show the whole world exactly what kind of trash you really are."

Winona didn't even flinch. Leaning back in her seat, she asked coolly, "Are you working with Zachary?"

Everyone in the country knew the name Zachary Shaw, and Jeffrey was no exception.

However, Jeffrey was completely unaware that Zachary and Winona were married.

"Don't tell me you're trying to sleep your way to the top with Zachary Shaw? Take a look in the mirror, sweetheart. You're my daughter. You have my filthy blood running through your veins. You think you're better than me? You belong in the gutter with the rest of us. You couldn't even compare to a single fingernail on Sienna's hand."

Winona let out a dark chuckle, her suspicions confirmed; Sienna was definitely pulling the strings behind this extortion plot.

He had demanded ten million back then, and now he wanted fifty. If she didn't crush this, the parasite would never stop feeding.

But she didn't have that kind of cash, and even if she did, she would rather burn it than give it to a monster like him.

She hung up on him mid-sentence, pulled up her phone, and booked a last-minute train ticket to Jeffrey's hometown.

According to his social media rants, his wife, Sylvia Sutton, was bedridden, and his son was surviving on life support.

He claimed his son was only alive thanks to an anonymous donor.

Keeping someone on life support for years cost an absolute fortune—millions of dollars.

She had K track down Sylvia’s current address, leading her to a dilapidated, rundown apartment complex.

The apartment was on the ground floor of a building with peeling paint, crumbling concrete, and surrounded by elderly residents quietly running out the clock.

It was far from a wealthy neighborhood, but it was eerily peaceful.

She knocked firmly. A harsh, hacking cough echoed from inside, lasting a full minute before dragging footsteps approached, and the heavy door slowly creaked open.

Sylvia was remarkably tall, but severely emaciated, looking like a fragile skeleton wrapped in pale skin that could shatter at the slightest touch.

Winona studied the woman intently, her gaze lingering for a long, heavy moment.

Startled by the scrutiny, Sylvia turned away to muffle another violent cough. With sunken, hollow eyes, she rasped, "Can I help you?"

"I'm Winona. From the Wynn family in Empire City."

At the mention of the Wynn family, the blood drained from Sylvia's face, and she slammed her weight against the door to close it. "I don't know any Wynns. You have the wrong house."

"Your husband, Jeffrey, just aired out all your dirty laundry online. It's trending. Millions of people are tearing it apart as we speak."

Sylvia clung to the doorframe, her complexion so terrifyingly gray she looked like she had one foot in the grave.

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