Chapter 20

David wasn’t mad. Not about the car, at least. Lily had stolen it, sure. She’d sold it too. The very one he had imported from Italy just a few months ago—matte black finish, custom interior, the kind of vehicle that turned heads at red lights. And yet, not an ounce of anger stirred in him because of that. It wasn’t about the car. Over the years, Lily hadn’t cost him much. She never asked for luxury goods. No flashy cards, no diamond necklaces, no extravagant bills. If anything, she lived like she had to save every penny, even after marrying into one of the wealthiest families in the city. She hadn’t drained his account. She hadn’t embarrassed him publicly. Hell, she’d even done her part at public events when needed—poised, polite, invisible. So no, he wasn’t mad about the car. He was mad about something else entirely. Two weeks had passed. Two whole weeks. And still—no trace of the mysterious person backing her. No trail. No identity. No clue. Who the hell was it? That woman who picked