His Unwanted Wife, The Secret Biker Boss

For years, I was the mechanic keeping the Salinas motorcycle club running, and the loyal wife to its heir, Chas.

But right after I dragged myself out of a three-day fever, Chas paraded into the clubhouse with Kristina—a manipulative blonde playing the innocent victim.

He proudly announced she was getting the "Honorary Medic" patch, an open slap to my face in front of the entire chapter.

"Drop the sour look, Cinnamon," Chas barked. "She earned her place."

His mother and spoiled sister immediately backed him up, demanding I hand over my private shop's debit card to pay $4,500 for Kristina's celebration and another $80,000 for custom riding leathers.

They treated me like a bottomless ATM, sneering at my grease-stained hands while draining my accounts.

His sister even had the nerve to mock my dead mother—the same mother who died because Chas stole her chemo money to pay off his illegal gambling debts.

They actually thought I would just swallow the disrespect and keep funding their pathetic, entitled lives.

Instead, I dropped the club's master keys on the bar and filed a formal property severance with the mother charter.

I cut off every automated transfer, blocked their fuel accounts, and partnered with the most feared rival President on the West Coast.

With the worst arctic freeze in thirty years about to hit, I bought up every drop of winterized diesel in the state.

Let's see how long their fake saint keeps them warm.