I Married the President-Chapter 48: Letting This Bitch Off Easy
After getting rid of the trio, Claire Sinclair locked herself in the cold, dreary room. She cleaned it from top to bottom, then knelt before her mother’s memorial tablet, her face grim and silent.
Eventually, her legs grew numb from kneeling. She took out her phone and checked the time. It was almost five o’clock—time to head back.
Just as she was about to get up, something slammed hard against the back of her neck.
Her vision went black, and she knew no more.
Peter Sinclair tossed the wooden stick to the ground, then crouched beside the girl and nudged her shoulder.
"Brat? Hey, brat?"
The girl didn’t respond.
Peter Sinclair let out a sigh of relief. Just then, a panicked Mrs. Lowell appeared with a rope. "Honey, what on earth are you tying her up for? If anyone finds out, our family is finished!"
Peter Sinclair snatched the rope and hastily tied the girl up, his expression unchanging. "If this plan succeeds, we’ll be rubbing shoulders with the elite. If it fails, Young Master Quincy will at least show Quinn some courtesy and won’t do anything to our family. Now hurry up and get the car. We’re running out of time."
"Okay, I’m going." Mrs. Lowell scurried out to get the car.
Once Peter Sinclair had the girl securely tied, he hoisted her directly onto his shoulder and hurried out.
Melanie Sinclair had been watching from the doorway the whole time. She followed them out, asking curiously, "Dad, are you really planning to send my sister to that Young Master Quincy?"
Peter Sinclair said, "This is the only way to save that boy from the Linden Family. Once they’ve slept together, even if Young Master Quincy refuses to acknowledge it, he’ll still have to give our family some kind of benefit."
"But Dad, didn’t you say Young Master Quincy is the master of Quincy Manor? He must have tons of bodyguards. How are you going to get my sister into his bed?"
Melanie Sinclair thought it was impossible, but since this drunkard was hell-bent on it, she could only watch the drama unfold with cold detachment.
Peter Sinclair snorted. "I’ve already made a deal with people on the inside. All we have to do is get her there. Don’t just stand there—come help."
"Oh..." Melanie Sinclair walked over and helped support Claire Sinclair’s body as they went downstairs.
After a great deal of effort, they finally got her into the car. The father and daughter were both panting, leaning against the vehicle to catch their breath.
Melanie Sinclair felt a pang of jealousy, but her doubts were stronger. "Dad, I just have a bad feeling about this. It doesn’t seem reliable."
Having been asked several times, Peter Sinclair grew impatient. "I told you not to worry about it. For a wretched girl like Claire, getting into Young Master Quincy’s bed is the luckiest break of her life. Once it’s done, our family’s fortune will depend on her."
Melanie Sinclair was rebuked into silence.
’If this plan actually works, won’t that bitch Claire Sinclair become a cabinet minister’s woman?’
’Isn’t that letting that bitch off way too easy?’
’Claire Sinclair is talentless and useless—a total waste of space! What right does she have to marry the master of Quincy Manor!’
The mere thought of it drove Melanie Sinclair mad with jealousy.
"Dad, does it have to be my sister? What about me?" Despite being pregnant, Melanie Sinclair still clung to a sliver of fantasy.
Peter Sinclair mercilessly shattered her beautiful dream. "The only woman in the world who can catch Young Master Quincy’s eye is Quinn. Claire is just riding on Quinn’s coattails because she was born with the exact same face."
The implication was clear: Young Master Quincy wasn’t interested in Claire Sinclair as a person, but only in her face.
After hearing this, Melanie Sinclair completely gave up hope.
The car drove off. Before it left, Mrs. Lowell had been forced out.
The mother and daughter stood downstairs, their gazes fixed on the departing car, unwilling to look away.
"Mom, is Dad really going to send that damned bitch to Young Master Quincy’s bed?"
