Serena had brought an entourage to inspect the building. They were discussing demolition plans—tearing down Mongkok Tower, replacing it with a gleaming commercial high-rise.
Meanwhile, I was chasing down a customer who owed me five hundred bucks.
One careless step, and I landed face-first at Serena Harding's feet.
Our eyes met.
Hers held shock. Disgust. And something else—a flicker of pain she probably didn't even notice—gone in an instant.
Then her face went cold again. She stared down at me.
"Alex Simmons. You left me no matter what I said."
A pause.
"So this is what you wanted."
The lackey behind her caught the contempt in her voice and ran with it. He crouched down, making a show of wiping the dirt I'd gotten on her shoes, his voice pitched loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Well, well—if it isn't Mongkok's number-one pretty boy!"
"Back when Serena hit rock bottom, you grabbed all her money and ran off with that little tramp."
"Seven years later, look at you now. What happened? She dump you too? Left you out here selling yourself?"
He snorted. "Figures. What else would you expect from a homewrecker?"
"You think every woman's gonna be like Serena? Selling her own blood just to keep you fed?"