Revenge Made Her Mine

Deal Worth Millions

Phoebe's POV

Harold's proposition was tempting—especially that part about him owing me a favor. That detail struck a nerve.

A favor from the Bailey family might seem worthless right now, but Harold's word carried serious weight.

His power had already surpassed what the Bailey name could offer. Considering my own motives for returning to this country, I hesitated.

Catching my uncertainty, Harold moved closer. "Miss Hale, you're still in college, aren't you? With your skills in traditional medicine, it would be criminal not to attend Clearwater University. I have connections there—if you want it, I can make it happen."

He was clever. In the brief time since discovering my name, Harold had already investigated my background. And this proposition was exactly what I needed.

I smiled, keeping my voice steady and composed. "Deal."

Harold immediately pulled out his phone. "Let's swap contact information."

I looked up, noticing the warmth in his expression. I casually opened WhatsApp and added him.

Moments later, Harold sent me 3 million dollars, plus the remaining payment for the pills.

When the money appeared in my account, my spirits lifted considerably. "Today's session is finished. I'll return tomorrow for the next treatment."

Hearing I was about to leave, Harold nodded, then glanced at Mitchell, who was gradually regaining consciousness. He turned back to me and said courteously, "Allow me to escort you out."

So, after strutting in alongside Harold, I was now being formally walked out by him.

The Bailey family members who'd been staring at me like some street urchin could only avert their eyes, too mortified to speak.

Now that Mitchell had awakened, all their scheming had crumbled to nothing.

"Later," I called out as I threw my leg over the bike. I planted one foot on the ground, gave the engine a teasing rev, and waved with my free hand, flashing an unexpectedly charming smile.

Harold's expression grew tender. He stepped back to give me space and responded, "Until tomorrow, Miss Hale."

He didn't miss it—ever since he'd paid me, I'd become significantly more courteous. Even my smile seemed more authentic.

Harold quickly identified what had shifted my demeanor. He couldn't suppress a quiet smile.

I roared away effortlessly on my black motorcycle, leaving Harold with nothing but the striking image of my silhouette vanishing down the street.

——

As Harold continued watching the direction she'd taken, Rogers approached and asked quietly, "Mr. Bailey, should I have someone tail her?"

Harold studied Phoebe's WhatsApp profile picture—a small black kitten with a defiant expression that was all attitude and no substance. It reminded him of her perfectly.

"Not necessary," Harold replied. "She'll return tomorrow."

He'd already decoded what motivated Phoebe. As long as he remembered that, she wouldn't disappear.

Rogers appeared somewhat confused but nodded. "Understood."

——

Phoebe's POV

Out on the congested street, I rode behind a stretch limousine.

It was rush hour, so I didn't bother weaving through traffic. After all, there was no reason to hurry.

Suddenly, my phone chimed with Buck's personalized ringtone. I answered via Bluetooth. "What's going on?"

"There's a fresh bounty on the Dark Net," Buck announced. "Some Bailey character is offering serious cash to locate me. The address they provided is in Clearwater, Coralia. Is that the same Bailey family you told me about?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Most likely."

"Most likely?" Buck barked. "Get on the Dark Net and discover who posted it!"

I laughed. "I'm on vacation, and you want me to probe the Dark Net? Do you understand how much power they wield in Coralia? Sounds like you're trying to get me imprisoned."

That territory was swarming with elite hackers. Snooping around without proper justification was begging for disaster.

"I don't give a damn," Buck complained. "Just identify who it is. If it's Mitchell, maybe I'll consider emerging from hiding." He disconnected before I could refuse.

I stared at my phone, utterly speechless.

Buck was a phenomenon in the medical community, famous for his extraordinary and legendary Golden Eighty-One Technique. Every wealthy and influential person desired him, but he had simply vanished without explanation.

Money could purchase nearly everything—except additional time. So people never ceased hunting for Buck.

On the Dark Net, even a fragment of information about him could sell for roughly 3 million dollars.

If I weren't already wealthy, I might have sold his location myself.

I exhaled, pulled into an empty parking space, and accessed the Dark Net regardless. It took only minutes to retrieve the information Buck requested. I forwarded it to him, convincing myself it was just a random good deed.

Much later, I pulled back into the Hale family's driveway.

It was well past dinner time. The meal had ended long ago. Inside, the entire family—Sergio, Atticus, Patty, and Nathalia—were gathered around murmuring in the living room.

The moment they heard the motorcycle, they all fell silent and looked toward the entrance. When I strolled in like I belonged there, their expressions immediately soured.

I smirked and dismissed them. My gaze swept over the pristine dining table before I addressed a nearby servant, "Prepare me some pasta."

The servant hadn't encountered me before, but everyone knew the legitimate heir had returned today. She looked toward Sergio. When Sergio didn't protest, the servant nodded and headed to the kitchen.

Shortly after, the servant emerged with sliced fruit and placed it on the table.

I didn't even acknowledge the luxurious sofa. I collapsed into a chair at the dining table, one leg draped casually over the other. Chin propped on one palm, I stabbed a piece of fruit with the other hand, completely disregarding the four people shooting daggers at me from the living room.

Observing me behave this way, Sergio could practically feel his bruises throbbing again. But he managed a smile and approached.

"Phoebe, since you're not returning to Heather, why not remain here temporarily?" he suggested. "You're a college freshman, correct? I'm acquainted with the president of Zachery University. If you're interested, I could make a contribution and use my influence to arrange your transfer."