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Too Late Mr. Noble: You Can't Afford Me

Chapter 8 No.8

Word Count: 597    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

e female!" the lea

of the pistol. Water dripped

unt barked. "Sh

n your h

's arm and twisting it behind his back.

me!" Hu

around Elle. She was sliding d

, reaching out a trembling ha

anged a look with her partner. Stockholm

Hunt's wrists. The metal wa

unt demanded as they shov

m toward the door. "You're the guy f

ce was being loaded onto a stretcher,

a shaking finger. "That's him!

geant near the elevators. "He

, stay

the street in chaotic bursts of red and blue. Paparazzi swar

ew they got the shot. Hunt Nobl

im in an interrogation room. It

folder onto the metal tabl

umber on him

said calmly. "Check the

lionaire beating a man to a pulp and

helpi

t what Mr.

flanked by three men in sharp suit

r said. "And if you don't un-cuff him in the next thirty seconds, I

f Sterling, the head of the precinct, rushed in.

s Christ, Miller,

hands shaking. "Mr. Noble, I am so

wrists. Red mark

t asked. His voice

infirmary. The drug scr

ant Ford destroyed.

warrant now," Sterli

walke

, wrapped in a grey police blanket. She wa

been fueling him evaporated, leav

picked her up. Sh

soft, broken sound, a name he couldn't

jaw tig

the back exit to th

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Too Late Mr. Noble: You Can't Afford Me
Too Late Mr. Noble: You Can't Afford Me
“I had played the role of Hunt Noble's perfect partner for three years, a polished asset to his multi-billion dollar empire. But the mask slipped when I saw a photo of him smiling at another woman with an intimacy he hadn't shown me in months. When I tried to walk away, Hunt didn't beg for forgiveness. He pinned me against a cold marble counter and reminded me that I was his property. "I provide for you. I don't answer to you." At the city's most prestigious gala, I made one final, desperate plea for a real commitment. He laughed, calling our relationship a "merger of assets" and labeling me a "bad investment" with a failed career. He had his lawyers draft a thirty-million-dollar NDA to buy my silence, treating our three years together like a business transaction to be settled and filed away. I signed the papers and threw the keys to his penthouse in his face, desperate to reclaim my soul. But that same night, I was drugged at a high-end club by a predator who thought I was unprotected. Before the darkness swallowed me, Hunt reappeared, a violent shadow who beat my attacker until the floor was slick with blood. I woke up back in the one place I swore I'd never return to: his master bedroom. As Hunt washed the filth of the night off me, his eyes burned with a terrifying, renewed possessiveness that the $30 million check couldn't hide. "You don't go anywhere without my permission." I realized then that the money wasn't my exit fee-it was the down payment on a permanent cage. If I ever wanted to be free, I couldn't just walk out. I had to burn his entire empire to the ground.”