Transmigrated: I Became My Nemesis's Woman

Meanwhile, news of everything that had happened at the Ford house quickly reached Xander.

He listened to Taylor’s report without interrupting, his expression unreadable.

When Taylor finished, Xander leaned back in his chair and spoke in a calm, measured tone.

"Make sure every loan shark France owes money to starts demanding repayment at the same time. I want him backed into a corner."

Taylor gave a slight nod, immediately understanding the implication behind the order.

"I’ll see to it."

Despite Ivy assuring him that she had already dealt with Nora and France during the reunion, Xander had no intention of letting the matter rest. France had repeatedly tried to involve himself in Ivy’s life, and that alone was enough to earn Xander’s attention.

For some time, Xander had quietly monitored France’s activities. He knew the man spent most of his days squandering money at gambling tables and living off whatever Florine could provide.

Until recently, however, he had never considered him worth investigating any further.

Now that had changed.

The more information Taylor uncovered, the clearer the pattern became—a trail of unpaid debts, broken promises, and increasingly desperate attempts to borrow money.

Taylor made a mental note of Xander’s instructions before opening another file in his hands.

"There’s one more update, sir," he said. "I think you’ll want to hear this."

Xander lifted his eyes to meet his assistant’s.

"Go on."

"It’s about Second Master Aaron," Taylor said. "He’s found a possible way to help Logan Mortini’s wife."

The moment those words left his mouth, a flicker of hope appeared in Xander’s eyes.

Although Aaron had been staying at the Emerson Mansion for some time, the two of them had rarely discussed Hailey Mortini’s condition in detail. Aaron had preferred to work quietly, only sharing updates when he had something concrete.

Now, it seemed he finally did.

"Are you certain?" Xander asked, his usually composed voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

Taylor nodded. "That’s the information I received. According to Aaron, the treatment isn’t guaranteed, but he believes there’s a genuine chance of success."

Xander fell silent, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his chair.

If Aaron could truly help Hailey, it might be the breakthrough he had been waiting for.

The only problem was Logan.

The man trusted almost no one, especially when it came to his wife’s well-being. Barging in with an offer of help would only make him suspicious.

Xander’s brows drew together as he considered his options.

He needed to approach Logan carefully—on equal footing, without hidden agendas or unnecessary pressure. More importantly, he had to give Logan a reason to believe that his intentions were genuine.

Only then would Logan be willing to listen.

Taylor watched his employer in silence, knowing from the look on Xander’s face that his mind was already several steps ahead, piecing together a plan.

***

Back at the Ford house, after being cut off financially by his mother, France stormed out in anger.

He had always believed he could keep his gambling debts under control. But after the men showed up at his house, threatened his family, and tore the place apart, he realized the situation was far more serious than he had imagined.

Frustrated, he headed to a bar he frequented—a place where he could drown his worries in alcohol and distract himself from reality.

Despite Florine’s harsh words, France remained convinced she would never truly abandon him.

She’s my mother, he thought. No matter how much trouble I cause, she’ll eventually step in and clean up the mess.

Taking a seat at the counter, he ordered a whiskey and emptied half the glass in one gulp, hoping the burn would quiet the thoughts racing through his mind.

For the moment, the debt collectors had backed off after receiving a partial payment, but he knew they wouldn’t stay away forever. He would have to be much more careful.

Just then, a woman in an elegant black dress approached and took the empty stool beside him.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked with an easy smile.

France glanced at her before shrugging.

"Go ahead."

She nodded toward his glass. "You look like you’ve had a rough day."

"You could say that."

He signaled to the bartender.

"Another drink for me—and one for the lady."

The bartender poured the drinks and slid them across the counter.

"I’ve seen you here before," the woman said casually, lifting her glass. "You’re a regular, aren’t you?"

France smirked. "Maybe."

The conversation drifted into light banter, enough to distract him from the chaos waiting outside.

When it came time to settle the bill, France pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to the bartender without a second thought.

The bartender swiped it once.

Then again.

A troubled expression crossed his face as he looked up.

"Sir," he said apologetically, "I’m afraid your card has been declined."

France frowned.

"Try it again."

The bartender did exactly that, but after another failed attempt, he slowly handed the card back.

"I’m sorry, sir. It’s still not going through."

For the first time that evening, genuine unease crept across France’s face.

The woman beside him glanced at the bartender, then back at France. Her expression changed almost instantly.

She offered an awkward smile and took a small step away.

"Sorry," she said with a shrug. "I thought you had money."

Without waiting for a response, she picked up her purse and disappeared into the crowd.

France watched her leave, his face darkening with humiliation.

"What a bitch," he muttered under his breath.

The bartender cleared his throat, drawing France’s attention back to the present.

"Sir, would you like to pay in cash instead?"

France froze.

He didn’t have any cash on him, and with his card being declined, he had no idea how he was going to settle the bill. Frustration simmered inside him, and he couldn’t help blaming his mother for cutting him off so abruptly.

As the uncomfortable silence stretched on, he found himself unable to come up with an answer.

"I’ll pay for him."

The calm voice came from behind.

Both France and the bartender turned to see Gavin approaching the counter.

He handed over his card without hesitation.

"Go ahead and charge it."

The bartender processed the payment, and this time the transaction went through without issue.

"Thank you, sir," the bartender said, handing the card back.

Gavin simply nodded before turning to leave.

France stared at him, surprise and unease flickering across his face.

He wanted to refuse the favor. He wanted to tell Gavin he didn’t need anyone’s help.

But after the embarrassment he had just endured, the words refused to come.

Instead, he quietly followed Gavin out of the bar, unsure why the man had stepped in—or what he might want in return.

***

Inside the backseat of the car, Gavin and France sat in silence. The atmosphere was tense, neither man speaking for several moments.

Finally, France broke the silence.

"You helped me on purpose, didn’t you?"

He wasn’t naïve. Gavin wasn’t the kind of man who paid a stranger’s bill out of simple generosity. In fact, Gavin had approached him several times in the past with offers and advice, only to be brushed aside.

Gavin let out a quiet chuckle and nodded.

"You’re sharper than you let people believe, France," he said. "It’s a shame you don’t put that intelligence to better use."

France met his gaze with narrowed eyes.

"Get to the point."

Gavin’s smile didn’t fade.

"I know you still have no interest in working with me, and that’s your choice. But there’s something you should know."

France remained silent, waiting.

"The trouble you’re in isn’t over," Gavin said calmly. "In fact, it’s only beginning. More people are going to come looking for their money."

The words made France’s expression stiffen.

For a split second, unease flashed across his face before he forced himself to remain composed.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that Gavin knew far more about his situation than he should.

"How would you know that?" France asked cautiously.

Gavin simply folded his hands in his lap.

"I make it my business to stay informed."

France’s pulse quickened, but he refused to let it show.

"You’re wrong," he said with forced confidence. "I’ve already dealt with my debts. No one’s coming after me."

Gavin looked at him for a long moment before giving a faint, almost pitying smile.

"If that’s what you need to tell yourself, then by all means believe it."

The confidence in Gavin’s voice unsettled France more than any direct threat could have.

Deep down, he knew his problems hadn’t disappeared.

They were only waiting for the right moment to catch up with him.

Gavin studied France for a moment before speaking again.

"You can keep denying it if you want," he said calmly, "but the people chasing you aren’t acting on their own."

France frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Gavin leaned back against the leather seat, his expression unreadable.

"I mean someone is pulling the strings."

A knot formed in France’s stomach.

He tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out strained.

"And who would bother doing that?"

Gavin’s eyes met his.

"Ask yourself this instead—who has both the resources and the motive to make your life miserable overnight? Who could pressure lenders, freeze your finances, and make sure every debt collector comes knocking at your door at the same time?"

France’s confidence began to waver.

His fingers curled into fists.

"Who?" he asked, his voice lower than before.

Gavin didn’t answer immediately. He let the silence linger, allowing the weight of the question to settle.

Then he spoke a single name.

"Xander."

France’s eyes widened, and suddenly everything started to make sense.