Deserve To Be Treated As Trash

A couple of seconds later, Richard's phone vibrated.

"Sorry for your miss, perhaps, you're looking in the wrong places. Try again."

Richard's eyes darkened inexplicably as he read the anonymous message and Gideon, who was standing beside him by the car couldn't help but tremble. 

He was furious already from not being able to meet Elsa, now this anonymous person chose now to joke with him. "Who the hell is this, messing with me? And how did he get my number?"

His company was crumbling, his investors were restless, and the one person who could turn things around was nowhere to be found. Who dares to pull a joke on him at a moment as crucial as this?

Sensing the eyes of the passerby on them, Gideon cautiously suggested, "Sir, we can sort the matter out in the car."

Richard ignored him and instead, his sharp gaze swept across the airport parking lot, searching for anything—or anyone—out of place. His instincts told him something must have gone wrong. Did something happen to Elsa?

Amidst the turmoil in his head, his mind snapped back to a certain redhead.

His fists clenched at the mere thought of that woman. It was bad enough that she had graced his morning with her presence, but now, his mind couldn't let go of that look on her face.

Did she know he was here for Elsa and did something to her? 

'Nah! She didn't have that ability,' he quickly dismissed the absurd thought. Even if he didn't know how words got out that he was in need of Elsa's help, Shantel Hale was still just the spineless daughter of a despicable woman with nothing worth worrying about her status.

Born into wealth. Educated in elite institutions. A born socialite. Known for appearing at high-profile events but never staying in one place long enough to form lasting attachments.

No one knew exactly what she did for a living. Unlike her sisters, who had carved their identities through their marriages or public ventures, Shantel Hale had no clear role. No company officially under her name. No publicized business dealings, yet she lived more comfortably than top company CEOs. 

What special ability could she possibly have other than follow in her mother's footsteps?

Focus, Richard. Focus! 

He looked down at the message again. No name. No number. Just a taunt.

His gaze lifted once more, scanning the cars in the parking lot. And then— his already furrowed brow deepened further.

As if his thought had conjured her up, there she was… again, but now seated comfortably in the back of a black luxury sedan on the other row of parked cars with one slender leg crossed over the other and fingers tapping leisurely against her knee. A knowing smirk played on her lips as she gazed … right at him from the window that he guessed she'd deliberately wound down.

The way she watched him with those eyes glinting with amusement, made something snap inside him.

And almost immediately, his muscles coiled even when he forced himself to give heed to the tiny voice in his head.

Shantel Hale had been here, watching his every move. And now—this message?

But then again, coincidences didn't exist in his world. His gut told him it wasn't a coincidence.

Before Gideon could register what was happening, Richard was already moving.

"Boss?" Gideon called out as he hurried after him but Richard didn't respond. 

Shantel watched them approach, and for the first time that morning, her smirk which seemed to be an integral part of her accessories today widened into a full-blown, wicked smile.

Richard reached the car just as the driver pulled away.

As the car slid past him, his eyes locked onto hers through the window, but she didn't look curious—if anything, she looked delighted.

He barely had time to process his next move before his phone buzzed again.

"Too slow, Mr. Domango. Try harder." 

That did it.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He turned to Gideon and in a low, lethal voice gave an order. "Get someone to follow that car… secretly and report her location. Also find out everything about Shantel Hale. Now."

Gideon swallowed the questions at the top of his tongue and nodded sharply. "Yes, Boss."

He knew better than to question his boss's orders, even when they made little sense. 

He had no problem with getting someone to follow Shantel Hale's car. After all, her action just now was strange enough to stir up suspicion.

But about the other matter… 

What was there to find out about Shantel Hale that the world didn't already know?

'The Seventh Daughter of Jezebel.'

That title alone carried weight. It was a name whispered with either awe or disdain, depending on whom you asked. 

Shantel and her six sisters had lived their lives under the shadow of their mother's notorious past. 

As the daughters of a woman branded as a modern-day Jezebel, they had no right to innocence in the eyes of the world. They were assumed to be just like their mother—ruthless, cunning, and dangerous to any man who got too close. Afterall a fruit doesn't fall far from its tree. So they deserve to be treated as trash— nothing more.

Thus, everyone stayed away from them, the few who dared, got ensnared in their webs.

But Richard was sure he was one of the few men who wouldn't play into their hands... just like he'd proven when she'd pulled that stunt on him last year.

Right now, Richard's stormy blue eyes were still locked onto the space where Shantel's car had disappeared and though his expression remained unreadable, anyone close enough could sense the dangerous energy radiating from him.

Shantel Hale had just played with him and he was someone that did not take well to being played.

He forced his rising temper under control and finally turned back toward his car. "Let's go."

Gideon hurried to open the door. The moment Richard slid in, Gideon took his place in the front seat and signaled the driver to pull out of the airport parking lot.