Shipley spoke with a kind of righteous confidence, as if he’d already figured Kent out and had him right where he wanted. He stared Kent down, eyes unblinking, then after a moment, continued, “I could leak this photo—send it everywhere. But I know Sweet Silvia would be devastated. So, I’m giving you a chance. Give me what I want, and I’ll make sure the photo never surfaces.”
“What is it you want?” Kent shot back, not missing a beat.
But even as he spoke, his gaze lingered on the photo. He narrowed his eyes, a cold glint flashing in them.
This photo—real, but not quite.
He studied it for a while, focusing on the woman’s left hip in the picture. The skin there looked flawless, not a mark in sight.
But Kent knew Silvia had a tiny red birthmark on her left side.
This photo...
His shoulders relaxed a little, the tension easing out of him. When he looked back at Shipley, Kent’s expression had shifted to one of mocking amusement. “Let’s hear it. What is it that you want—money, power?”
“I want you to divorce Sweet Silvia,” Shipley blurted out, not bothering to hide his intentions.
Money, power—none of it mattered to him anymore, not compared to Silvia.
And with Silvia by his side, what couldn’t he get? She had the brains to help him run his company, and the Ashford family’s connections could open any door he needed.
He suddenly regretted not holding on to Silvia more tightly before.
“I won’t divorce her,” Kent replied coolly. “And as for the photo, you can try leaking it if you’re feeling brave. But the second you do, the police will be at your door. Whether the photo’s real or not doesn’t matter—publishing a picture like that of a young woman is a crime. Honestly, Shipley, your stupidity is almost impressive.”

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