Not His Old Lady Anymore

Fiona POV:

I returned to my office and began stacking the ledgers, contracts, and bank statements on my desk.

These papers represented three years of my life's work. I had taken the club's legitimate businesses—a failing auto shop, a tattoo parlor—and made them profitable, giving the Serpents a respectable source of income.

The door flew open and Craig stormed in. He slammed his hand down on the stack of files. "What did you just say?"

"Exactly what it sounded like," I said, looking up to meet his furious gaze. "I'm handing all of this over."

"Handing it over? To who? Fiona, stop this childish game!" He clearly thought I was just throwing a tantrum.

"To whoever is capable of managing it." I pulled my hand from under his. "Perhaps your Ginger can give it a try. After all, she faced death with you. She must be more trustworthy than a woman who just sits in the back counting money."

"This has nothing to do with Ginger!" he roared. "Why do you have to drag her into this? She's just a poor woman who needs help!"

"A poor woman?" I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Craig, do you really think I can't see it? The way she looks at me is full of triumph and hostility."

For a split second, his expression faltered, but he quickly defended her. "That's because she's scared! She's in a strange place, facing a powerful Old Lady like you. Of course she's nervous!"

Powerful. I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. Three years of dedication to him, to this club, and all he saw was 'powerful.'

He saw my silence and softened his tone. "Fiona, listen to me. In the Arizona desert, I was ambushed by the Vipers. My bike was wrecked, and I was shot. Cletus saved me. I spent a month recovering at his home. Ginger and Cody took care of me."

He continued, his voice low with a genuine sadness. "Then the Vipers came looking for me. Cletus was killed trying to help me escape. Before he died, he made me promise to take care of his only daughter and his grandson."

"I swore I'd give them a good life, that I'd protect them from anyone who tried to hurt them." He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "Fiona, I owe them my life. I can't go back on my word."

It was a noble story, full of a biker's honor and promises. But I was the one expected to pay the price for his code.

"So your protection means bringing her into another war? Letting her challenge my position?" I asked.

"No!" he argued, agitated. "I just want to give her a standing, a status so she can belong here!"

"What kind of status?" I pressed.

Craig hesitated, avoiding my eyes. He mumbled, "A... a respected status. I want the brothers to respect her, just like they respect you."

I understood. I finally, completely understood. He wanted Ginger to have the same status as me.

In this club, a patched member could only have one Old Lady. He wanted two. It was a blatant violation of club tradition and the ultimate insult to me.

I started to laugh. Not a cold laugh, or a mocking one, but a genuine, absurd laugh.

My laughter made Craig uneasy. "Fiona, what are you laughing at?"

"I'm laughing at your naivety, Craig." I stopped, looking at him. "I'm laughing because you think you can have it all—loyal brothers, a dutiful wife, and the 'true love' you picked up on the side of the road."

"She's not-" he started to argue.

"It doesn't matter what she is," I cut him off. "What matters is that I will never accept your idea."

I shoved the stack of files hard into his chest. "Take them. From this day on, the finances of the Serpents of Redemption have nothing to do with Fiona Brennan."

The files hit him and scattered, fluttering to the floor like dead leaves. Ledgers, contracts, all of it.

Craig stared at the papers on the ground, then back at me in disbelief, as if seeing me for the first time.

"You're serious?" His voice held a trace of panic.

I didn't answer. I just walked around him, heading for the door.

I needed fresh air, away from this suffocating room and this man who had just killed the last bit of hope in my heart.

At the doorway, I paused without turning back.

"Craig," I said. "You can't have it both ways. You chose your 'honor.' Now you have to live with the consequences."

I pulled the door open and walked out.

The door closed behind me, shutting him in and shutting me out, severing the last possibility between us.