Chapter 666 Cressida Ruined, Conman Vanishes
On the other end of the line, it was Julian.
That night, a sleek black sports car pulled into the hotel parking lot. Julian sat behind the wheel, phone in hand, his gaze fixed on the row of lit windows above. There was a cold, dangerous glint in his eyes.
Cressida had taken the bait. From here, all Kevin had to do was keep showing up, tossing out just enough temptation until she was hooked. Julian was not after her money. He wanted her life — a debt to be paid in blood for Efrain.
Kevin passed by the car, catching sight of his silent benefactor. He did not get in, only gave the faintest nod. Their eyes met briefly, an unspoken understanding passing between them.
When Kevin disappeared into the night, Julian lit a cigarette. The wind tore the smoke away, revealing the sharp lines of his face, but the darkness in his eyes only deepened.
The phone in the console rang. Taylor's name lit up the screen.
He answered, and her gentle voice filled the car, "Luna was just asking about you. She wants to know when you're coming home."
The tension in his expression eased. His voice was low, rough, "Keep her busy for a bit. I'll be back soon."
They exchanged a few more words before hanging up.
Inside the hotel suite, Cressida rose lazily from the bed and dressed. She did not bother with a shower, only sat before the vanity to touch up her makeup.
As she put her lipstick away, something caught her eye — a sleek, gold-embossed card case bearing Kevin's contact information and the name WealthPeak Financial Group.
She turned it over in her hand, then tossed it into the trash. To her, Kevin was just a man with decent skills in bed. Nothing more.
By the time she stepped out of that suite, she had already erased the night from her mind. On camera, during interviews and book signings, she wore the mask of a grieving widow. When Efrain's name came up, she even let tears fall. "Efrain was the love of my life. I will never forget him. Never."
Her fans were moved to the point of awe, proclaiming they had witnessed true love.
In the Learmond family's living room, Kennedy trembled with rage. "Shameless. If she hadn't kept pushing him, Efrain would still be alive."
Kellan slid an arm around her shoulders, murmuring calm.
Julian's eyes stayed locked on the TV. His voice was quiet, lethal. "Someone will deal with her."
Cressida, convinced of her own brilliance, never imagined she could fall. Her career was thriving, brighter than ever, and for a time she forgot the sting of losing Julian, throwing herself into work.
Two weeks later, Evergreen City's arts scene was buzzing. At a high-profile cross-industry event, she saw Kevin again.
He was introduced as a financial prodigy, managing vast portfolios for the wealthy. The host even mentioned his luxury villa, perfect for poolside parties. Dressed head to toe in designer, Kevin carried himself with effortless refinement.
Cressida had not thought much of him before, but the way others treated him — like royalty — caught her attention. When his speech ended, she called out. "Kevin."
He looked at her, brows faintly drawn. "Have we met?"
Her irritation flared, but she kept her composure. "Yes. At the bar."
A flicker of recognition. He accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, his gaze sharpening. "Ah. Yes. That was a memorable night."
He smirked. "Your performance skills are impressive, Ms. Lawson."
The barb was obvious, but she let it slide. She was more interested in his investment skills. She had capital sitting idle, and if Kevin was as good as he appeared, he could be useful.
She gestured subtly. "Shall we talk somewhere private?"
Kevin agreed without hesitation.
They left early, settling into a quiet corner of a café. He ordered coffee for them both, speaking with the polished ease of a man who knew his worth. Half an hour later, Cressida was convinced of his ability and mentioned her interest in trading.
Kevin placed an unlit cigarette between his lips. A waiter appeared. "Sir, no smoking here."
Kevin removed it with a nod. "I know."
He set it aside and asked evenly, "How much capital are you holding? I can size it up for you."
"Twenty million dollars."
He sipped his coffee, then smiled faintly. "The market looks strong, but most people are just waiting to be taken. You know the saying — it's not about whether you win, it's about whether you show up to the slaughter. Small investors are the easiest prey."
She hesitated.
"My clients usually start at forty or fifty million. Many invest over a hundred. Smaller accounts aren't worth my time."
So that was it — he thought her money was pocket change.
Before she could respond, Kevin stood, all polite detachment. "I should greet the hosts before I leave."
She caught his arm, her voice soft, alluring. "Can't I convince you to stay?"
Her eyes promised more than words. Kevin understood perfectly. This time, she took him to her upscale apartment.
They had been together before. This time, it was faster, hotter.
Afterward, Kevin leaned back against the headboard, lighting a cigarette. Smoke curled between them as he spoke, "You said you had twenty million? Give it to me, I'll handle the trades. Ten percent return a month, minimum. If things go well, we could double it."
Her eyes gleamed. "Really?"
He pinched her cheek. "Consider it a favor. Normally, I wouldn't bother with such a small account."
Her heart leapt. She kissed him. "Then show me what you can do."
He stubbed out the cigarette and pulled her back into bed.
True to his word, within two weeks her twenty million had doubled. The numbers on her account climbed to forty million, then eighty. She began to believe in him completely — and to transfer her longing for Julian onto this man who looked so much like him.
One night, just as she was thinking of confessing her feelings, Kevin took a call. He spoke in low tones, something about a tech stock about to skyrocket. When he hung up, he began calling clients, urging them to buy in heavily, promising three consecutive days of gains.
Later, over the late-night snack she had made, she hinted at joining in. Kevin told her to cash out while she was ahead. "Eighty million is a nice cushion. Why risk it?"
But greed had taken root. She stirred her coffee slowly. "If I mortgage my apartment and pull my trust funds, I can raise a hundred and fifty million. If it doubles, we're set for life. Kevin, then we can really be together."
He hesitated. "Better to play it safe."
"I trust you," she said.
He smiled. "Then I'll make sure you're counting stacks."
The smile never reached his eyes. That stock would not rise. It would crash — and take her with it.
The next day, Cressida wired the full amount to Kevin.
By market close, the stock had hit its limit down. She had lost eight million in hours.
Kevin told her not to worry. "Normal fluctuation. It'll bounce."
It did not. Day after day, it fell.
By the time it hit rock bottom, her hundred and fifty million was worth barely twenty — and she could not even sell. When she tried to call Kevin, the line was dead.
Kevin was gone.
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