Not Just His Old Lady

I was the respected Old Lady of the Iron Legion MC, managing all their legitimate businesses from the shadows for six years.

But when my President boyfriend, Jasper, returned from a deadly run, he brought a woman on the back of his bike-my seat.

"She's under the club's permanent protection now," he declared in front of everyone, elevating the widow to a status right beside mine.

He created two queens for one throne.

When her son knocked a pot of boiling chili onto my arm, leaving me with agonizing second-degree burns, Jasper rushed to comfort the uninjured, crying boy instead.

His grandmother even scolded me in front of the whole club.

"It was an accident! No need to make such a fuss."

Later that night, Jasper confessed he owed Brandy his life and sanity, choosing his trauma bond with her over my years of quiet devotion.

I finally understood that in his ledger of debts and duties, my sacrifices didn't even register.

I couldn't compete with a ghost, nor the woman who walked through hell with him.

So, I dropped my claim necklace on the floor and handed the club's account keys to the usurper.

What they didn't know was that the club's businesses were completely bankrupt, secretly kept afloat for years solely by my family's trust fund.

I cut the financial tow line, leaving them a ticking bomb, and walked away to watch his kingdom burn.