All Chapters of The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Norma’s Bakery ShiftNorma, to her credit, was the only one actually working without dying envy because she said she was a new person.Or whatever she pretended to be.No Instagram filters. No beanbag throne. No delusions.Just her, a bag of flour, and a cracked 4 a.m. alarm clock.She’d never needed the limelight like the rest of them. All she ever wanted was peace, a functioning oven, and the occasional spa coupon. Now, peace was gone, the oven was someone else’s, and her self-care routine consisted of crying silently while washing muffin tins.She worked at a tiny family-owned bakery down the block—“Momo’s Crumbs”—where the walls smelled like cinnamon and ancient sweat. From dawn to noon, she baked muffins, kneaded dough, sprinkled powdered sugar, and fought the urge to slap customers who asked stupid things like, “Do these chocolate eclairs have sugar?”Her hands were dry and cracked, dusted with flour that never fully washed off. Her back ached from leaning over trays, and her wr

TWO WEEKS LATER – COURTROOM DRAMAI didn’t attend the first hearing. I didn’t need to.The law already had enough receipts to line the courthouse steps.Instead, I stayed at my penthosue, lounging by the pool with fresh fruit and a scented foot mask, watching the livestream on a secure server Darren had arranged.Let’s just say… popcorn was not enough.The courtroom was packed. Press and paparazzi buzzed like locusts in expensive suits, all trying to get the best angle of the McLaren Meltdown. The three stars of the show? Venice, MJ, and Era—all seated at the defendant’s table, looking like a failed magazine cover for “How to Ruin Your Inheritance in 10 Days.”Venice sat stiffly, her once-Instagram-famous curls limp and undone, makeup cakey as though trying to mask the anxiety under blush and highlighter. MJ had tried the “tough athlete” look—black turtleneck, jaw clenched—but the sweat patches betrayed him. Era, in a desperate bid for composure, wore pearls and kept adjusting her gla

That kind of kiss that made the air evaporate, that pressed memories into your bones. She moaned softly against me, arms wrapping around my neck as I pulled her tighter, until our bodies fit like puzzle pieces.My hand slipped under the robe again, fingers tracing the curve of her waist. She arched into me as I kissed down her throat, tasting every inch like she was mine to memorize.“You smell like spice and power,” I growled against her collarbone. “And you taste even better.”Krystal gasped as I lifted her effortlessly from the couch and laid her down across the cool marble coffee table, her hair spilling around her like a crown.“This table,” I murmured, lips brushing her navel, “needs new memories.”“You're outrageous,” she whispered breathlessly.“You love it,” I grinned, pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses across her hip, up to the edge of her robe. “And you love me.”Her fingers tugged my hair down. “Less talking. More therapy.”I obliged—worshipping her with every movemen

Weeks LaterThe elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing the top floor of Lucent Capital HQ. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls, live orchids blooming in sleek marble vases, and a view of the skyline that whispered power in every reflection. I walked in wearing blood-red stilettos and a tailored navy suit that could cut steel—diamond pins in my hair, lips painted the shade of war.“Ms. Hunter,” the assistant greeted, rising from her desk with trembling deference.I gave a nod, eyes locked on the conference room where the board of LuxVerra International waited. A global conglomerate, old money, old power, and now—with interest in something that had once belonged to my grandfather.The McLaren legacy.Not for sentiment. No, that ship had sunk with the weight of years of neglect, abuse, and the stench of Elias and Norma’s greed. But for image, for prestige, for the narrative they wanted to tell—a phoenix rising, a dynasty reclaimed—they needed me.And now they would get me. On my ter

And as our bodies met again and again beneath the moonlight, every sigh, every moan, every shuddering breath that echoed through the penthouse didn’t just mark pleasure.It marked power.Love in its most dangerous, honest form.When we finally lay tangled in the aftermath—skin on skin, his hand curled in my hair, the smell of champagne and roses thick in the air—I looked up at him.“You know they’ll try to come back,” I said softly. “Try to reclaim it all.”He smiled like a man who had already prepared a thousand counter-moves.“Let them try,” Darren whispered against my temple. “We’ve already won the game. Now we just build the next one.”And I knew then—with every muscle humming, with every heartbeat syncing with his—that this was just the beginning.The Hunter Empire had risen.And its queen? Untouchable.News Alert – Two Weeks Later"BREAKING: Elias McLaren Claims He Was 'Manipulated' Into Signing Over the McLaren Legacy. Alleges Emotional Blackmail by His Niece, Krystal Hunter."