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His Unwanted Wife, The Secret Biker Boss

Chapter 7 

Word Count: 1007    |    Released on: 24/09/2026

n Colli

only a glaring, blinding light refl

open-market commercial diesel was up three hundred and twenty percent. Every small-time towing outfit, independent trucker, and local biker c

BANG

companied by the muffled, shrill scree

amn door right now! I

k coffee, and walked over to the side entrance. I u

acket and high-heeled boots that were ruined by the slush. Beside her, Bettie had b

ears of cold and rage tracked through her mascara. "You canceled th

past the threshold, but I planted my shoulder

a gloved finger toward my chest. "Or I swear on my late husband's grave, I will go to the r

arms, looking at them like two rabid rac

sure you show them the audit records showing how Chas stole three hund

ore she doubled down on her venom. "That money belonged to Chas th

," I said. "And as

from my pocket and

ear, sharp, and high-pitche

ce I get the alligator riding suit for my engagement party, Chas is g

color drained from her face u

Lexi stammered, stumblin

word,"

lunging forward with her acrylic

who lifts transmission blocks for a living, and shoved her back. Bettie lost her footing

d, looking down at them. "Or watch the re

steel door shut and

r five minutes before the sound of their car

picked up the satellite

s garage at noon. Make sure our legal team is

ckled. "The repo haulers are rol

corner of Industrial Way, parking in the deep shadow of an aba

ckers, escorted by two private sec

oots jumped out, carrying heavy pry bar

age doors, waving his arms

s body in front of the main service bay. "This

he lead cruiser, holding a clipbo

er said coldly. "Move, or the county deputies sitti

y diagnostic computer and the two precision hydraulic lifts, and began winching them onto

stack of tires, beating her knees in sheer, helpless rage. Several neighboring shop owners and

crumble under the weight of its own greed, f

ed into the lot, tires scre

high heels in the slush. She ran toward Chas,

ppened? What a

is eyes wide and completel

er the idling engines. "They're taking the diagnostic rigs. Without t

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His Unwanted Wife, The Secret Biker Boss
His Unwanted Wife, The Secret Biker Boss
“For years, I was the mechanic keeping the Salinas motorcycle club running, and the loyal wife to its heir, Chas. But right after I dragged myself out of a three-day fever, Chas paraded into the clubhouse with Kristina-a manipulative blonde playing the innocent victim. He proudly announced she was getting the "Honorary Medic" patch, an open slap to my face in front of the entire chapter. "Drop the sour look, Cinnamon," Chas barked. "She earned her place." His mother and spoiled sister immediately backed him up, demanding I hand over my private shop's debit card to pay $4,500 for Kristina's celebration and another $80,000 for custom riding leathers. They treated me like a bottomless ATM, sneering at my grease-stained hands while draining my accounts. His sister even had the nerve to mock my dead mother-the same mother who died because Chas stole her chemo money to pay off his illegal gambling debts. They actually thought I would just swallow the disrespect and keep funding their pathetic, entitled lives. Instead, I dropped the club's master keys on the bar and filed a formal property severance with the mother charter. I cut off every automated transfer, blocked their fuel accounts, and partnered with the most feared rival President on the West Coast. With the worst arctic freeze in thirty years about to hit, I bought up every drop of winterized diesel in the state. Let's see how long their fake saint keeps them warm.”