The Millionaire And His Billionaire Ex-Wife

Chapter 22

Grace gritted her teeth, refusing to slow down, but accelerated and seemed to want to die with them.

The two black cars in front were taken aback as she charged forward unblinkingly, sending shivers down their spines.

In the heart-stopping final two seconds before impact, both black cars synchronized, retreating half a yard.

The petite Santana just squeezed through the gap.

Before she could catch her breath, the two black cars were tailing her like hounds on a

scent.

Grace wanted to get rid of them, but the acceleration of her little Santana just couldn’t shake the tailgating black cars.

She bit her lip, a cool resolve settling in her heart.

Via the rear-view mirror, Grace took a quick count of the occupants of the black cars. Including the driver, each car carried five people.

In total, ten men, each one seeming a hulking brute.

If it came down to a war of attrition, Grace’d be toast, but if she could outsmart them, she might have a fighting chance of around sixty to seventy percent.

In for a penny, in for a pound, Grace thought. Today’s just been one of those days, might as well have a go.

Bring it on!

Having made up her mind, Grace parked her car with steely resolve on the outskirts of an abandoned building.

The two black cars stopped right after, disgorging ten burly men in unison.

They held crude clubs in their hands, looking fierce.

Grace leaned against her car, hands in her pockets, nonchalantly taking in the scene.

When the gangsters caught sight of her sizzling figure beneath the skin-tight white dress, their eyes nearly popped out.

Today’s job was going to be a real windfall!

Grace cooll y eyed each of them, her red lips parting to ask, “So, who sent you here?”

The head of the gangsters, eyes full of lecherous intent, retorted, “Don’t blame us, sweetheart. You’ve only got yourself to blame for ruffling the wrong feathers.”

Seeing that they wouldn’t expose their employer’s name, Grace didn’t bother with further inquiry.

With her high heels in hand, a smirk playing on her lips and a glint of cold determination in her eyes, Grace beckoned, “Well then, bring it on!”

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As her words hung in the air, the ten gangsters raised their clubs and charged.

Beep beep beep!

A shrill car horn blared from somewhere nearby.

A sleek silver-grey Lamborghini Hurricane suddenly spun into view, executing a perfect drift.

The driver had changed.

Poor driving skills got Tim benched by Edgar, his wages docked for a month to boot.

Edgar, stone-faced, then dismounted from the vehicle.

His tall frame, topping 6’2″, striding forward with a swagger that whipped up a gust, his aura was so potent that it seemed he had a crew of ten in his wake.

The gangsters were all stunned.

His eyes, black as obsidian, brimmed with deadly intent. Edgar ignored Grace, booting a gangster aside.

Seeing this, the rest of the gangsters hastily grabbed their clubs, entangling themselves in a brawl with Edgar.

Grace, realizing Edgar had come to play the knight in shining armor, eased her high heels back on, leaning against her car to enjoy the show.

She was more than pleased to let someone else take the reins.

Edgar was a force to be reckoned with, fierce and swift. Within minutes, he had taken down nine gangsters, leaving only the head on the defensive.

Cracking his knuckles, which echoed ominously, Edgar’s eyes seemed as deep as a bottomless abyss.

The head was so intimidated by Edgar’s stare that his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.

“Sir, please, have mercy. I’ll scram immediately, and I’ll never bother the lady again. I beg you, let me go…”

Just as Edgar was about to interrogate him further, Grace stepped forward, her high heels clicking against the ground. With one hand, she yanked the head up by his collar, her gaze menacing, “Who sent you here?” Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

“I…?I don’t know. We’re just hired gangsters, taking whatever work comes our way, as long as the price is right. I swear I have no idea who…?

“You’re not going to talk, huh?”

Raising her free hand, Grace slapped him across the face.

The head was shell-shocked by Grace’s fierce demeanor. Noticing Edgar’s icy stare from the corner of his eye, he burst into a pitiful so b.

“Wah wah, Miss… No, no, no, Goddess! I swear I really don’t know. The guy was generous with his money, asked us to rough you up, then record your humiliation and post it

online…?Ah!”

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Suddenly, a kick sent him sprawling into a nearby pole.

Accompanied by a sickening crunch, he spat out a mouthful of blood before collapsing,

unconscious.

Grace’s expression darkened, and she whipped around to confront Edgar, “Why didn’t you let him finish?”

Edgar’s face was stormy. “Could you really stomach hearing more? The depravity of these scu m s is off the charts! Were you really considering letting him off the h o o k?”

Edgar didn’t know what was going on with himself. When he discovered what those people planned to do to Grace, his blood boiled.

They had divorced, but Grace was once his ex-wife and it wasn’t up to others to lay a hand on her.

As for Grace, who was she to question him? Didn’t that person deserve to die?

Her naive righteousness was nothing short of foolish.

Grace shot him a disgruntled look. “You knocked him out cold with one hit, the guy didn’t feel a thing. He should’ve been conscious, squirming in pain. Living a life worse than death is the ultimate torment. You let him off easy.”

Edgar was left gobsmacked.

He had misjudged.

What he took for naive righteousness was nothing but her holding a grudge.

“I’ll get Tim to look into today’s incident. You can rest easy, there’s no need to fret.”

Grace rolled her eyes at him.

Who said she was scared?

However, Grace was always clear about who her friends and foes were. Edgar had rescued her this time, so as long as he didn’t pester her, she could curb her sarcastic remarks. Grace glanced around at the gangsters sprawled on the floor, then her eyes landed on Edgar. “You better get to the bottom of this and see if your folks are involved. If they are, they won’t get away with it.”

Edgar nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t be biased…”

He paused and locked eyes with Grace, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “But for now, don’t you think we should talk about us?”

“You and me?” Grace looked taken aback. “We closed that chapter when we got our divorce. There’s nothing left to discuss.”

After that, Grace turned her back to him, ready to hop in her car and head home.

“Watch out!”

Edgar shouted.

Seeing the closest gangster sneakily rising from the ground, the club poised to strike Grace’s

head.

The gap was too big, Edgar couldn’t possibly make it in time!

For the first time, he felt a pang of panic.

The next second, Grace caught the incoming club mid-air, dealt the gangster an elegant throw, and sent him tumbling back to the ground.

The gangster didn’t even have a chance to whimper before he passed out.

Once the dust had settled, Grace turned to face Edgar whose face was still frozen in shock. A smirk graced her lips.

Edgar’s panic quickly turned into astonishment.

Edgar watched as Grace’s green Santana faded into the distance, her stunning retaliation and departing smirk indelibly etched in his mind.

Three years of marriage had led him to believe his wife was a soft touch with no opinions and standout qualities.

But the divorce had proved him wrong, time and again.

He had never truly known her.

Watching the direction Grace had vanished in, a shadow crossed his face.

Considering her swift and elegant moves, it seemed like… Judo?

And she was no beginner.

Such prowess couldn’t be mastered overnight. And her air of aloof grace…

How could a girl like her, an orphan from the Frant City Welfare Institution, hold such secrets?