Chapter 134

Malcolm Rhodes pieced together the clues, his stomach churning with disgust.

When he returned home, Celeste Rhodes greeted him with a steaming cup of tea, her face adorned with a gentle smile. The picture-perfect image of a devoted wife and mother nearly made him vomit on the spot.

What a waste of talent. She should’ve been an actress.

That night, he feigned a headache to avoid sharing a bed, secretly observing her reaction. Sure enough, relief flickered in her eyes.

Too suspicious.

Determined to uncover the truth—and to stay as far away from her as possible—he called his overseas branch that same night. The next morning, he left the country under the pretense of urgent business.

A month later, when he returned, his parents greeted him with mysterious excitement.

"Celeste is pregnant!" his mother announced, overjoyed. "We’re going to have a grandchild!"

The news struck him like lightning. Not only had he been cuckolded, but now he was expected to raise another man’s child?

From that day on, he moved into the guest room, citing the need for Celeste to rest. Privately, he dispatched investigators to track down the man responsible.

Strangely, they found nothing.

Every attempt to tail Celeste led to dead ends, deepening his unease.

Though the child disgusted him, he had no intention of harming it. He would wait until the birth, demand a paternity test, and then expose the truth.

But two months later, Celeste "accidentally" took a fall—and just like that, the baby was gone.

At the hospital, she collapsed in hysterics, her grief so raw it almost seemed genuine.

He demanded the embryo for testing, but the hospital claimed it had already been disposed of. The speed of its removal was suspiciously convenient.

To make matters worse, the Rhodes-Price joint venture had reached a critical phase, forcing him to swallow his fury for the time being.

Watching Celeste drown in crocodile tears made him sick. In retaliation, he began frequenting nightclubs, deliberately allowing paparazzi to snap photos of him with different women.

The tactic worked. Celeste erupted in fury, even assaulting the alleged "mistresses" in public.

But he saw right through her. This wasn’t love—it was pure possessiveness. She couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching what she considered hers.

So he escalated, flaunting his affairs with even more brazenness.

As for the women who got beaten? He couldn’t care less.

They knew he was married. If they were willing to chase his money, they could handle the consequences.

He paid them handsomely and ensured they were compensated afterward. Money came with strings attached.

Within a year, Celeste transformed from a poised socialite into a shrieking, unhinged harpy.

Perhaps this was her true nature all along.

When he filed for divorce, she refused outright, running back to her family in protest.

The Prices feigned sympathy, dismissing his affairs as mere "business entertainment"—but divorce was out of the question.

Disgusted but lacking concrete evidence, he was temporarily at a loss.

His only option was to keep digging for the mystery man. His instincts screamed that the Prices were hiding something far worse.

He hadn’t even confided in his parents—yet Aria Bennett saw through it all at a glance.

"Can you identify the man?" he pressed.

Aria shook her head. "I’d need to meet your wife first."

"What else can you tell me?"

"You’ve been cursed," she stated bluntly. "If not for your family’s accumulated karma shielding you, the Rhodes’ fortune would’ve been stolen long ago."

She paused. "But your protection is nearly depleted. If this isn’t resolved, disaster awaits."

The Rhodes’ ancestral merits had led him to her today.

Malcolm paled. "Someone is trying to steal my family’s fortune?"

Before Aria could answer, her phone rang.

Moira Blackwell.

Stepping outside, she answered.

"Master Aria, have you crossed Logan Price?" Moira cut straight to the point.

"Only his woman," Aria admitted.

"No wonder," Moira murmured. "He just called, demanding I cut off your herbal supplies."

She hurried to clarify, "Our families may share distant ties, but we’ve long severed contact. I’m warning you—Logan is ruthless. Be careful."

"Thank you, Aunt Moira." Aria meant it.

Returning to the private room, she found Malcolm waiting anxiously.

"Someone is siphoning your fortune," she confirmed, sitting down. "And they’re using marital bonds to do it."

Her gaze sharpened. "Look into the Prices’ married daughters. See if their husbands’ families have all fallen into ruin."

Malcolm immediately called his assistant to investigate.

While they waited, Aria suddenly asked, "Why the sudden offer to sponsor me?"

"Logan suggested it," Malcolm admitted. "He knew about Valerie Knox competing with you for that role. Said you were far more beautiful and that I should switch targets."

He shrugged. "Since I was already investigating the Prices, I played along to see his angle."

"Of course, if you’re unwilling, I’d never force you," he added. "Those women all came willingly. I’ve never coerced anyone."

Aria smirked coldly.

Serena Blake’s handiwork again.

Since Logan Price had delivered himself to her doorstep, she wouldn’t hold back.

No mercy left.