Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 77: Fired Up!

By 3 p.m., Gianna’s creative fire—which had burst hot after that morning talk with Athena—started to dwindle somewhat.

Or rather, her body finally caught up with her mind, exhaustion seeping into her bones in a quiet but undeniable way, and she was wise enough to listen.

Being more security-conscious now, she moved deliberately through the room, closing the windows she had opened earlier in the day, checking each latch twice before pulling the curtains shut.

She locked her work carefully behind the cupboards too, fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary, before finally stepping back.

When she was done, she pulled a sweater over her head, the fabric warm, slung one of her small handbags across her shoulder, picked up the trays of empty food-stained plates and leftover snacks Florence had had the maids sending over throughout the day, and walked out of the room, stretching as she went, muscles protesting faintly.

Downstairs, she met old Mr. Thorne sitting on one of the sofas in the smaller living room, reading the papers of the day, his glasses perched low on his nose.

"Hey, Gramps!" she said lightly, bending down to kiss his forehead, easing away when he tried to get her to sit down. "Let me drop this in the kitchen."

"How do you feel?" he asked when she got back, folding the paper and setting it aside, his gaze already assessing her.

"Better," she replied honestly. "More fired up, actually. I’m not backing down, Gramps..."

Old Mr. Thorne smiled, the pride unmistakable, and patted her hand gently. "That’s my girl... go get them. Don’t worry about your back—we’ve got you. Even if you don’t want my men following you around, they’ll be in the background..."

His eyes sharpened slightly. "I think that’s even better. Let them think you’re defenseless. Let them strike again..."

Gianna nodded slowly. "That is true. Wish me luck at the convention then... my win might just be the necessary thing to make them careless..."

Old Mr. Thorne laughed softly. "Oh, my dear, you already won it. I believe in you."

"And I’m so grateful for that," she said, smiling warmly. "I want to go out for fresh air. Actually, I want to drop by the bank, make some withdrawals, get some things into play... get my life more ordered."

He nodded, not entirely sure what she meant, but trusting her all the same. "The men already know when to tail you."

"Thanks, Gramps," she murmured, dropping another kiss on his forehead before walking out of the sitting room, one hand clutching the small handbag slung over her shoulder with renewed determination.

As she drove toward the bank, she battled intermittently with nausea which rose occasionally, suddenly, in her throat, as she remembered she had been kidnapped from this same car. And her grip remained tightened on the wheel. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"I will not bow down to filthy vipers. I am a lioness," she repeated her mantra, knuckles whitening as she forced herself to breathe. She didn’t relax until she pulled into the bank’s parking lot.

Without looking around, she strode into the institution. When she came out, the cheque Dane had given her was cashed. Five million dollars. It would barely make a dent in what she owed Noah—but it was a start.

Order, she mused, settling into the car and picking up her phone.

She called Dane, dialing the new number he had given her. Unavailable. She frowned and dialed again. Same response.

After two more attempts, she called his old number. Still unavailable.

Her frown deepened. Where did the traveler go now?

Shrugging it off, hoping he was living his life to the fullest, she called Noah.

"Hey, beauty..."

She rolled her eyes. Hadn’t she told him not to call her that again?

"It’s Gianna."

A slight pause. "Gianna... how are you doing?"

"Fine. Can you send me your account? I want to make a transfer."

Another pause—this one heavier. She knew exactly what he was thinking. She didn’t care.

"Gianna—"

"Noah, please. Let me do this."

"I can’t accept the money from you."

"You’ll lose my friendship then? You prefer that?"

"Of course not." A sigh. "If you feel you need to, then I’ll send an account to you..."

She noted the absence of my before account, but it didn’t matter. When the number came through, she transferred the money immediately and felt lighter again.

She smiled faintly as she merged back onto the road toward home.

Five minutes later, however, she turned sharply—toward the Becketts’ company instead—grim resolve settling over her features.

"Miss Gianna... good afternoon. Didn’t know you were coming in today," the receptionist started the moment Gianna stepped inside.

Gianna gave the gossip a curt nod, ignored the stares tracking her movement, and headed straight for the elevator.

She wasn’t sure why she was here. She just knew she needed to see it.

And when she did—when she stepped past a startled, concerned Lottie—shock slammed into her chest.

Her desk was practically destroyed. Drawers torn apart, papers scattered, the design board ripped down and broken. Her work desk was no different. Neither was Vance’s.

Flower vases lay shattered. And on the window, written in red marker: Be careful or reap the consequences.

Why hadn’t Daphne mentioned this part?

Rage surged instead of fear, burning clean and hot. How dare they do this to her office?

"Sorry this place is still like this... we involved the police, so—"

Gianna shut her eyes briefly as Mason spoke. Involved the police. Which meant this would hit the socials before nightfall. She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, or a bad one.

"Hey, are you okay?" His hand rested gently on her arm.

"Yeah," she said, opening her eyes. "Just surprised. Shocked. I don’t understand how this could have happened."

"Me too. I’m sorry... this space should be safe for you, and instead—"

She turned to him then, eyes blazing. "It’s not your fault. Or your father’s. Just some jealous people."

She smiled genuinely—and it startled him. This wasn’t the defeated expression he was expecting. This was fire.

"They’ll probably hang themselves when I win the convention." Her voice was calm, lethal. "Till then... when will my office be ready for use again?"