The Billionaire Ex-Wife and the Beggar He Became novel Chapter 201

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Clayton Foster stared at Winona Perkins in disbelief. "W-What the hell? Did you just... insult my intelligence?"

Winona met his eyes, calm and unwavering. "You laid pebbles outside the door so I'd slip, and you keep calling me a mistress, saying I'm suitable for men of any age. Is it really that surprising I'd insult you back?"

She wasn't the kind of person who sought trouble. People could gossip behind her back and call her whatever they wanted—she didn't care. But Clayton was openly bullying her now, right to her face.

Winona was done tolerating him.

"You—!" Clayton spluttered, jaw clenched in outrage. He jabbed a finger at her, voice righteous and loud. "This is a construction site! We're building a retirement home here—a serious project! People who come here are either investors or qualified engineers and designers. And what are you supposed to be?"

Winona didn't answer his question. Instead, she asked, "Is there a rule that says I can't be here?"

"That's just twisting words!" Clayton's face reddened. "It was Yves Prescott who said you're his mistress! If that's the case, you should be at home, taking care of your sugar daddy. Instead, you're here, disrupting us—contaminating our work! How do you expect us to put up with this?"

He added, "Look at Felicity! She's on-site every day, handling problems as they come up. She's lost weight, she's tanned from being out here, and you have no idea how much she's sacrificed for The Nicholson Group. But you? You're just here to make her miserable! I can't stand you. That's why I put those pebbles outside, to trip you up. What are you going to do about it?"

His speech was full of self-righteous indignation.

Winona couldn't help but find it both pathetic and absurd. She looked at him, her voice hoarse but steady. "Do me a favor and stay away from me. If you insult me again, I won't hesitate to slap you. And if you don't like it, you can hit me back, or go ahead and call the police."

"You… you're impossible!" Clayton was seething.

He'd met plenty of mistresses before, but they always knew their place. They kept quiet and never caused drama. But Winona—she had Yves Prescott backing her, and now even Julian Nicholson seemed to favor her. It was infuriating.

He didn't hit women, but in his frustration, Clayton slammed his fist down on the corner of the desk.