Read Online Billionaire Season 3: Summer Ablaze (Billionaire Season Trilogy) by Kimball Lee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kimball Lee
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fool. Honest to God, how she had managed to give birth to two fine as hell sons was beyond Beth’s comprehension. The fifty million wouldn’t have made a dent in the Warfield fortune but it had been a little iffy as to whether William the third would loosen the purse strings and cough it up. That old son-of-a-bitch was tighter than Dick’s hatband and more than a few bricks short of a load in the brains department.
But as it turned out, the money was never an issue, things had gone terribly wrong and young William had run away and the rest was history. No money, Stella and her dipshit boyfriend dead, and Beth’s mother had simply given up and stayed on at Greenlea Plantation since it was actually a better job than she could ever have hoped for. Beth had married the first man she slept with who wasn’t a criminal, and she had visited at Greenlea off and on until William left for college and Walden was so far gone mentally that he only spoke to his brother or that uppity maid Mae while he spent his days and nights wordlessly fucking the fine young daughters of New Orleans society.
The plan to kill Allie had begun to take shape in her mind as soon as William had taken the girl into his bed. Fuck , it made her insides churn with bitter hatred every time she had to witness the raw emotion on William’s face when he looked at Allie. Then after they’d broken up, he’d sulked around like his world had come to an end and she knew the only way to save him from turning into his lovelorn father was to get rid of his dream girl once and for all.
So she had used her days off to scour the county tax records for some derelict, out of the way fishing shack to use as her “funhouse” to draw Allie’s suffering out as long as possible. And surprise, surprise! There it was—the very ramshackle “cabin” on the Bayou Lafourche where the Warfield boys had been taken when they were kidnapped. She thought it had probably been burned to the ground or bulldozed, but leave it to batty elder William to let it slip his mind. All that was required was for her to pay a piddling sum to catch up the back taxes and the little fishing shack was hers.
Beth got an inordinate amount of happiness as she cleaned the trash out of the place, leaving only the metal cot and filthy mattress. She had bought a sturdy rocking chair at the Cracker Barrel on the highway and she liked to rock and go over the fine points of revenge as she stared out to the haunting mist rising off the bayou. Sometimes she whistled a happy tune as she swept every stray speck of dirt and rat shit from the floors, and her mind raced with scenes of Allie struggling and begging (just as poor little Walden had probably done) when Beth had her firmly secured to that awful, stinking cot. Strangely, the shack had become her refuge and she enjoyed spending her free days there, now that William had so graciously informed her she could live alone in his townhouse although it would never belong to her since it was part of his family’s trust. To add insult to injury he’d gifted her seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars so she could “retire.” He must have thought she would jump for joy at such a gift, but it was nothing compared to the contentment she’d felt when she woke up and went to sleep secure in the knowledge that he always came home to her .
She’d gone so far as to visit Remy Lesairre after William called from Florida gleefully announcing that he’d won Allie’s heart back. William had the audacity to ask if she would meet with a personal shopper at Saks Fifth Avenue and fill the gargantuan closet he’d had fashioned just for Allie in that monstrous big house where he planned to carry her over the threshold. Fuck almighty! She’d tricked Remy into letting her gather Allie’s belongings from her tiny guestroom so that she could take them to that Voodoo witch who chanted and conjured black magic spells behind Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo . The spooky old
But as it turned out, the money was never an issue, things had gone terribly wrong and young William had run away and the rest was history. No money, Stella and her dipshit boyfriend dead, and Beth’s mother had simply given up and stayed on at Greenlea Plantation since it was actually a better job than she could ever have hoped for. Beth had married the first man she slept with who wasn’t a criminal, and she had visited at Greenlea off and on until William left for college and Walden was so far gone mentally that he only spoke to his brother or that uppity maid Mae while he spent his days and nights wordlessly fucking the fine young daughters of New Orleans society.
The plan to kill Allie had begun to take shape in her mind as soon as William had taken the girl into his bed. Fuck , it made her insides churn with bitter hatred every time she had to witness the raw emotion on William’s face when he looked at Allie. Then after they’d broken up, he’d sulked around like his world had come to an end and she knew the only way to save him from turning into his lovelorn father was to get rid of his dream girl once and for all.
So she had used her days off to scour the county tax records for some derelict, out of the way fishing shack to use as her “funhouse” to draw Allie’s suffering out as long as possible. And surprise, surprise! There it was—the very ramshackle “cabin” on the Bayou Lafourche where the Warfield boys had been taken when they were kidnapped. She thought it had probably been burned to the ground or bulldozed, but leave it to batty elder William to let it slip his mind. All that was required was for her to pay a piddling sum to catch up the back taxes and the little fishing shack was hers.
Beth got an inordinate amount of happiness as she cleaned the trash out of the place, leaving only the metal cot and filthy mattress. She had bought a sturdy rocking chair at the Cracker Barrel on the highway and she liked to rock and go over the fine points of revenge as she stared out to the haunting mist rising off the bayou. Sometimes she whistled a happy tune as she swept every stray speck of dirt and rat shit from the floors, and her mind raced with scenes of Allie struggling and begging (just as poor little Walden had probably done) when Beth had her firmly secured to that awful, stinking cot. Strangely, the shack had become her refuge and she enjoyed spending her free days there, now that William had so graciously informed her she could live alone in his townhouse although it would never belong to her since it was part of his family’s trust. To add insult to injury he’d gifted her seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars so she could “retire.” He must have thought she would jump for joy at such a gift, but it was nothing compared to the contentment she’d felt when she woke up and went to sleep secure in the knowledge that he always came home to her .
She’d gone so far as to visit Remy Lesairre after William called from Florida gleefully announcing that he’d won Allie’s heart back. William had the audacity to ask if she would meet with a personal shopper at Saks Fifth Avenue and fill the gargantuan closet he’d had fashioned just for Allie in that monstrous big house where he planned to carry her over the threshold. Fuck almighty! She’d tricked Remy into letting her gather Allie’s belongings from her tiny guestroom so that she could take them to that Voodoo witch who chanted and conjured black magic spells behind Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo . The spooky old
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