Karma Doesn’t Sleep: The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 260

Clive glanced over at the dance floor, his gaze lingering a second longer than usual. Tonight’s crowd was a blur of sequins and feathers, everyone hiding behind masks that sparkled under the club’s shifting lights.

He vaguely remembered Michael mentioning something about tonight being Masquerade Night. Clive rolled his eyes. These kinds of themes weren’t for him. In his mind, it was all the same—lonely men and women playing dress-up, hoping for just one night of excitement before slipping away to a hotel with someone whose real name they’d never know.

A few waitresses in bunny costumes weaved through the crowd, trays balanced on their hands, the little tails on their backs swaying with every step. Short skirts, sheer stockings, and heels that could kill—every detail designed to make the men lose their minds.

Clive’s thoughts drifted, uninvited, to Amelia. She was so straight-laced, so gentle. She’d never set foot in a place like this—not in a million years.

He ignored the dull ache in his stomach and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his messages. Nothing from Amelia. No texts, no calls, not even the shortest voicemail.

His brow furrowed without him realizing.

The only notifications waiting for him were two missed calls from Kristen and a handful of texts she’d sent earlier. She said she was out of the hospital and back home—told him not to worry. One message came with a photo: Kristen, half-turned in the mirror, her bare back on display. Her skin was smooth and pale, and on her shoulder blades, dark and fading kiss marks stood out in the reflection.

Kristen: Clive, I didn’t even notice the marks you left last night! I changed in front of my mom and she totally saw them. She kept asking what happened, so I told her it was from working out—don’t blow my cover, okay?

Scenes from last night flickered in Clive’s mind, warm and reckless. His throat worked as he swallowed.

He’d almost lost control in that hospital room, all because of that weird herbal soup the old lady insisted he drink. But he hadn’t crossed the line. He’d stopped himself. He had nothing to feel guilty about with Amelia. His conscience was clear.

He remembered the designer bag he’d had Caroline order. It should’ve arrived by now. He called her.

“Have someone drop the bag off at the house. Just leave it at the front door—don’t ring the bell. I’ll get it myself.”

Caroline sounded shocked. “Wait, you’re really sending that bag to the house? Don’t tell me you’re giving it to Amelia. Seriously? She doesn’t deserve something that nice! She’s so low-class—she can’t pull it off!”

Amelia, the girl who could make a cheap canvas tote last for years and never complain.

Clive’s patience snapped. “Just do it. Enough talking.”

He hung up before she could say anything else.

Amelia was probably at home right now, running around after the twins. He’d bring the bag home himself, smooth things over, and give her the gesture she deserved.

He started down the spiral staircase.

Suddenly, noise erupted near the entrance. A wave of whistles and shouts rolled through the club, and the music amped up—louder, faster, the beat making the floor vibrate.

Clive knew what that meant. Either someone had just dropped a fortune on drinks, or a total knockout had just walked in.

He’d seen beautiful women more times than he could count. Usually, he barely noticed.

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