Abigail
Third POV
Gina Wolfe slammed the door of her sleek black Mercedes so hard the entire car rocked.
She dropped into the backseat, her chest heaving with rage, as she dug her manicured nails into the leather seat.
Had Finnegan really just thrown her out of his company? It felt like a dream. A terrible dream.
"How dare he?" she hissed under her breath, eyes blazing. "That ungrateful little bastard. After everything I've done for him. He knew. He knew all along."
Her driver was a silent man. He knew better than to utter a word when Gina was in a mood — and when was she ever not in a mood?
He waited, sitting as still as a statue for his boss to give an order. Instead, Gina yanked out her phone with shaking fingers and dialed Victoria's number.
"Pick up, you useless whore," she muttered.
Victoria answered on the third ring, her voice all light and airy as if she didn't have a care in the world. "Gina, darling. How did it go with Finnegan?"
