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Chapter 740:

Joan narrowed her eyes. She didn’t believe a word of it. Five minutes ago, this woman had been ready to scratch her eyes out. Now she was suddenly a vigilante for justice. It didn’t add up.

“Funny,” Joan said, her voice cold. “Five minutes ago, you told me that if I so much as breathed Richard’s name again, you’d have me thrown in the river. What changed p>

Lexi’s jaw tightened. She glanced over her shoulder again, then leaned in closer. “Fifty thousand was too much. It would have raised red flags—the boss checks all the big transactions. But five thousand? Cash? No one will notice. I can say it’s a tip. No questions asked p>

Joan stared at her. It was a flimsy excuse. A terrible excuse. But it was the only one she was going to get. And she was running out of time. Richard was leaving the country next week. If she didn’t get something on him now, she never would.

She hesitated for a moment, then reached into her purse. She pulled out the tiny black wireless bug and a thick envelope of cash, passing them to Lexi under the bar where no one could see.

“Stick it under the couch in his VIP room,” Joan said quietly. “And if you try to double-cross me—if you tell him about this—I will release that recording to every tabloid in New York. And I will make sure everyone knows it was you who gave it to me. Richard will kill you. And no one will stop him p>

Lexi took the bug and the cash and slipped them into her bra. She looked at Joan, and for a split second, something like pity crossed her face.

You have no idea who you’re dealing with, little girl, Lexi thought. The man behind you is scarier than Richard will ever be.

But she didn’t say it out loud. She simply nodded.

𝘞e 𝘶р𝘥a𝗍𝗲 𝘦𝘃𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝘸еe𝘬 𝘰𝗇

“I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She stood, tossed back the rest of her water, and walked toward the stairs that led to the VIP rooms.

Joan watched her go. She fitted the tiny wireless earpiece into her ear and waited.

Ten minutes later, there was a crackle of static.

Then Richard Beasley’s voice—loud, drunk, and arrogant—filled her ear.

“…and that bitch Hale thinks she can take me down? Please. She doesn’t have a clue. I’ve got money stashed in three different offshore accounts. Even if the FBI freezes everything here, I’ll be sipping margaritas in Costa Rica by next month p>

Joan’s heart began to pound. She fumbled for her phone, opened the recording app, and hit record.

“…and don’t even get me started on that car crash.” Richard laughed. “Seven years, and no one has ever suspected a thing. Paid that mechanic fifty grand to mess with the brakes. Sent the money to that garage in Brooklyn. No paper trail. Nothing. Perfect crime p>

Joan’s hand tightened around her phone. Her nails dug into her palm.

This was it. The proof she had been waiting for. Seven years of searching, seven years of nightmares—and it was all over.