All Chapters of Bad Contract with the Billionaire Devil: Chapter 171 - Chapter 179

Liam's POVThe air in the private lounge was thick enough to choke a man, heavy with the scent of aged cedar, my mother's expensive floral perfume, and the metallic tang of my own suppressed rage. I stood in the doorway for a second, my navy pinstripe three-piece suit feeling like a straitjacket against my surging adrenaline.My eyes locked onto Evelyn. She looked uncorrupted in her bone-white Alexander McQueen suit, a mockery of the innocence she was trying to show.The moment I stepped toward her, my family moved in a way that only years of protecting the "Smith image" could produce. My dad and my grandfather stepped in front of me, forming a human wall between my fury and the woman who had just set my life on fire."Get the hell out of my way!" I barked. The sound was guttural, vibrating through my chest. I didn't care that they were my blood; right now, they were obstacles. "Move. Now."They didn't budge. My father’s face was a mask of stern authority, while my grandfather leaned

Olivia's POVSince Avery showed me that clip of Evelyn standing in front of the flashing lights, painting me as a predator and a "wretched slut" to the entire world, I hadn't been myself. My mind was a total mess of fear and anger. I had no idea what her ultimate game was, but she had effectively turned the entire world into a courtroom, and I was being tried in absentia.“Who the fvck is bringing my burger and beer? I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes!”I flinched as that deep, gravelly voice tore through the heavy atmosphere of the bar. I looked toward the corner booth and my stomach did a slow, nauseating roll. It was Dickson. He was one of the notorious bullies from my high school years in Willow Creek, and time hadn't been kind to him. He was dressed in a greasy leather vest over a tattered band t-shirt, his hair a matted nest of unwashed blonde.I had thought coming to Picasso’s Bar to cover a quick shift for Avery’s cousin would help me relax; give me something mundane to

Olivia's POVThe cold was no longer just a sensation; it was a physical weight, pressing against my chest and seeped into my bones. I sat on that weathered wooden bench, my breath hitching in puffs of white vapor that vanished into the dark, misty air of Willow Creek. I wrapped my arms around myself, clutching the charcoal wool coat. It was thick, smelled faintly of his expensive cedarwood cologne, and was currently the only thing keeping me from shattering into ice.I was trying to stay invisible. I was trying to exist in the shadows until Avery returned from the errand Picasso had sent her on. But invisibility was a luxury I no longer possessed.The sound of clicking heels and shrill, familiar laughter cut through the distant thumping bass of the bar. I stiffened, my heart dropping into my stomach. Three figures came out from the neon-tinted fog, gossiping with a venomous energy that I recognized instantly.Penny, Barbra, and Lucy.In a town like Willow Creek, some things never chan

Olivia's POV“Hey, bitch. Remember me?”The person who spoke stepped forward into the sickly yellow glow of a flickering streetlamp. He had spiky blue and silver hair that looked ridiculous against his grimy denim vest. I remembered him all too well.Westley.One of Dickson’s most loyal lackeys. Dickson must have sent them to intercept us the moment he was kicked out of the bar.“Let’s not waste our time, ladies,” Westley said, a crooked, mean-spirited grin spreading across his face. He was flanked by three other guys, all dressed in heavy hoodies and baggy cargo pants, looking like pure trouble. “Me and my guys just need you to bring out the cash old Picasso paid you for the shift. Think of it as a local tax for bringing all that heat to our town.”Avery didn't flinch. She folded her arms across her chest and looked them up and down with a look of pure disgust. “Oh, really? A local tax?” she scoffed. “And why the hell would we do that, Westley? If you want some cash, what’s stopping

Olivia's POV“Are you crazy, Dickson?!” someone from the crowd shouted, their voice cracking with panic. “Where the hell did you even get a damn gun?!”The whispers from the onlookers started to rise like a swarm of angry hornets.“I can’t believe his uncle let him have a gun. Or maybe he stole it from the station?” one man muttered, clutching his coat.“This is unbelievable,” a woman replied, her voice hushed. “These kids these days are something else. How can he just pull a gun out like that on that poor girl out in the open?”“Maybe we should call the cops?” a teenager whispered, holding up a phone.“He ‘is’ the cops, you idiot!” an older man hissed back. “Who else would you call when his uncle is the Chief, sitting right on top of this town with his big fat ego? The police won’t touch him.”The people kept going, their commentary fueling the fire in Dickson’s eyes. I just wished they would shut the hell up.Every word was a provocation, pushing an unstable man closer to the edge.