I Married My Ex's Billionaire Father-Chapter 319: Frankie

Honey stepped out of the bathroom, tightening the rope of her robe.

She had sent Igor out on a fact finding mission and she impatiently waited for him. Time was fast running and she needed to tie up ose ends so that she could return to her own business.

She had never been gone for that long and she began to feat that she would come back to a business in shambles.

As she sat down and poured a cup of tea for herself she looked through the notes that Luca had left behind.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind and threw her on the ground and threw her one the floor.

She opened her mouth to scream and felt the feel of a cold blade against her face.

"Scream and i will be forced to carve up your beautiful face, and that would be a loss for such beauty."

Honey gulped nervously.

She knew that voice, even in her sleep.

"Fran..." She said huskily then cleared her throat. "Frankie, what are you doing here?"

If Frankie was here then that was the end.

The bosses had given her four months, it had only been two months and a few days. Why would they send Frankie for her?

"I came to see a very special lady." came Frankie’s slick voice.

He gently ran the dull edge of the knife over her face, causing her to flinch.

"But It’s not yet time." She whispered, her voice shaky even though she tried to be brave. "The bosses, they gave me four months."

"The bosses don’t think you can handle it." Frankie answered.

"I almost have it." Honey answered quickly.

"I swear it. I think..."

"You think?" Frankie’s echo sent a chill down her spine and she gulped.

"What i mean to say is that already found it, I just need a little more time." Honey begged.

Frankie stared at her, as if trying to make a decision.

"You know me Frankie." Honey said, her voice soft. "You know i never disappoint. i might take a little time but i will never disappoint."

Honey held his gaze and forced herself not to blink.

Fear was a scent. A currency. A weakness.

And Frankie had always been very good at sniffing it out.

The knife rested lightly against her cheek, cold and intimate. Not pressing hard enough to cut. Just enough to remind her how easily he could.

"You’ve lost weight," Frankie observed casually, as if they were discussing the weather. "This city isn’t feeding you well."

Honey swallowed. "I’ve been busy."

"Busy," he repeated, crouching slightly so his face was level with hers. His dark eyes moved over her slowly, assessing, calculating. "Busy doesn’t equal progress."

She forced a small, shaky laugh. "You know how delicate these things are. The target is cautious. I can’t just barge in guns blazing."

Frankie’s lips twitched faintly at that. "You? Subtle? That’s new."

She shifted slightly beneath him, testing how tightly he had her pinned. His knee pressed against her thigh, his free hand gripping her wrist just enough to remind her resistance would be futile.

He wasn’t holding her as a man holds a woman.

He was holding her as a handler holds an asset that may or may not still be useful.

"Frankie," she said more quietly, letting a note of familiarity creep into her voice, "you know I deliver. Every time."

Silence.

He studied her face stripped of makeup, stripped of armor. Just Honey. Just the woman beneath the empire.

And that unsettled him more than if she had been painted in red lipstick and diamonds.

"The bosses don’t like delays," he said finally. "They think you’ve grown... sentimental."

Her stomach tightened.

Sentimental.

That was dangerous.

"I don’t get sentimental," she replied immediately. "I get results."

"You were supposed to return by now."

"I have found the key," she insisted. "I just need a couple of lines to fall in place."

Frankie tilted his head. "Explain."

Honey took a slow breath. This was the moment. The tightrope.

"I need to be certain of the location," she said carefully. "If I move too fast, we lose everything."

Frankie’s grip loosened just slightly.

"And what exactly have we gained?" he asked.

Honey’s mind raced.

"Access to accounts," she said. "Hidden ones. Offshore. I know where the real money is parked. Not the public books. The real ones."

Frankie’s eyes sharpened.

That caught his interest.

"Proof?" he asked.

"In Luca’s files," she replied quickly. "Encrypted, but I’ve already started breaking it."

That part wasn’t entirely a lie.

She had been working on Luca’s notes.

She just hadn’t found what she was looking for yet.

Frankie stood slowly, withdrawing the knife from her face but not pocketing it. He paced once across the room, scanning the space, the teacup, the scattered papers, the faint steam still rising.

"You sent Igor out," he said.

Her heart skipped.

So he’d been watching longer than she thought.

"Yes."

"For?"

"To confirm a meeting."

Frankie turned back toward her. "If Igor doesn’t return?"

"He will."

"And if he doesn’t?"

Honey hesitated.

Frankie moved before she could answer.

In one swift motion, he grabbed her by the collar of her robe and hauled her up onto her knees. The movement was fast, controlled, not wild.

The knife hovered again, this time under her chin.

"If he doesn’t," Frankie said quietly, "then you have no leverage. And if you have no leverage, then you have no value."

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

"I have value," she whispered.

"Prove it."

He released her abruptly, and she stumbled back against the sofa.

"Two weeks," Frankie said.

Her head snapped up.

"What?"

"You said you almost have it. Two weeks. Not a day more."

Relief and terror collided in her chest.

"Two weeks isn’t..."

The knife flew past her ear and embedded itself into the wooden cabinet behind her with a sharp crack.

She froze.

Frankie’s voice remained calm.

"Two weeks," he repeated. "Or I come back without knocking."

He stepped closer again, but this time there was no blade between them. Just proximity. Just threat.

"The bosses think you’ve gotten comfortable," he murmured. "They think you enjoy this little kingdom of yours."

Honey straightened slowly, reclaiming some of her composure.

"This ’little kingdom’ funds their operations in three cities," she replied coolly. "If I fall, they bleed."

Frankie’s eyes flickered.

There it was.

The real Honey.

Not the trembling woman on the floor.

The madam. The strategist.

He gave a faint smile. "There you are."

She met his gaze evenly now. "You don’t kill assets that generate profit."

"No," he agreed. "But we do kill liabilities."

A beat of silence stretched between them.

The air felt charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

"You’ve changed," Frankie said quietly.

"So have you."

His gaze lingered on her face bare, vulnerable, but no longer afraid.

"Don’t make me regret arguing for you," he said.

She blinked.

"You argued?"

"I told them you were slow. Not incompetent."

That surprised her.

Frankie didn’t advocate for anyone unless there was something in it for him.

"And what do you get," she asked carefully, "if I succeed?"

A slow smile curved his mouth.

"I always collect."

Her stomach tightened again, not in fear this time, but in understanding.

Frankie didn’t do favors.

He made investments.

A sudden knock at the door shattered the tension.

Both of them froze.

Igor.

Honey’s pulse jumped.

Frankie’s eyes darkened instantly.

"You didn’t say he was coming back now," he said softly.

"I didn’t know," she answered honestly.

The knock came again.

"Madam?"

Igor’s voice.

Frankie stepped away from her and smoothly pulled the knife from the cabinet, wiping the blade on a cloth from the table.

"You will not mention me," he said. It wasn’t a threat. It was a fact.

"Of course."

He moved toward the hallway.

"Two weeks," he reminded her.

Then he disappeared into the shadows of the apartment like he had never been there.

Honey stood still for three full seconds.

Then she rushed to the mirror.

Her cheek was pale where the blade had rested. A faint red line traced the path it had taken not cut, just kissed by cold steel.

She pressed her fingers to it.

Two weeks.

The knock came again, louder this time.

She smoothed her robe, tied it tighter, and wiped any trace of fear from her face.

By the time she opened the door, Honey the Madam was back.

Igor stood there, slightly breathless. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"Did you find anything?" she asked immediately.

He nodded. "Yes. But you’re not going to like it."

Her stomach sank.