Chapter 1
1613words
Zachary Reed yanked me into his private lounge, the door slamming shut behind us, cutting off the buzz of jealousy and applause from outside.
The charming smile he'd flashed for the cameras vanished instantly, replaced by cold, calculating eyes.
He loosened his tie and sprawled across the leather sofa, his long fingers toying with the massive diamond he'd just slipped onto my finger.
"Do you like it, Mrs. Reed?"
His tone was playful, but his eyes held no warmth—only the predatory gleam of a man who enjoyed control.
I lowered my gaze, playing the perfect submissive fiancée. "I love it. Thank you, Zachary."
"A 'thank you' won't cut it," he chuckled, tossing a document onto the glass coffee table. "Sign it."
I picked up the document—a prenuptial agreement.
The terms were brutal—demanding I retire from acting immediately after marriage, sever all contact with male colleagues, and surrender control of my personal assets.
The final clause, highlighted in bold: "During the marriage, wife must unconditionally obey all husband's arrangements."
"What the hell is this?" My fingertips whitened around the paper's edge, my voice barely steady.
"It means," Zachary stood, stalked over, and gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing my gaze to his, "from today on, you're mine. Every inch of you. Including that half-dead sister of yours in the hospital, Vivian Shaw."
Her name on his lips felt like a knife twisting in my chest.
"Your sister needs that kidney transplant, doesn't she? Well, I found a suitable donor. Problem is, he's not exactly… cooperative."
Zachary's thumb traced my lower lip, his voice dropping to a silky whisper. "So, Liv, you'll need to 'persuade' him. Using certain… talents that come naturally to women like you."
My ears rang as blood rushed to my head.
The bastard wasn't just threatening my sister's life—he wanted me to whore myself out to save her.
Disgusting. Vile. Monster.
[Host, control your vitals. Emotional spikes will trigger his suspicion.]The System's cold voice sliced through my rage, snapping me back to reality.
I inhaled slowly, forcing down the bile in my throat as tears welled up on command, spilling perfectly down my cheeks.
"Zach, I—I'm terrified," I choked out, letting my body tremble visibly. "I'm just an actress. I don't know how to… to do something like that…"
My tears worked their magic—the irritation in his eyes softened to satisfaction.
My fear fed his ego exactly as I'd planned.
"What's there to be scared of? I've got you covered." He patted my cheek like you would a dog. "Get it done, and you'll be the famous Mrs. Reed. Your sister lives. If not…"
He switched topics abruptly, his voice hardening: "Those ICU bills are piling up, aren't they?"
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, fighting the urge to claw his smug face to shreds.
I nodded, letting my vision blur with tears. "I'll sign it. I'll do whatever it takes. Just… please save my sister."
His lips curved into a victorious smile as he pressed a cold kiss to my forehead.
"Good girl."
The moment the door closed behind him, my tears dried and my expression hardened.
I wiped my face with my sleeve, pulled out my phone, and dialed.
"Mike? I need dirt on someone. Zachary Reed's driver. Track his movements for the past three months—every stop, every meeting, every damn coffee break."
The next day, I brought a fruit basket to the hospital.
Vivian lay motionless on the hospital bed, her skin nearly translucent against the white sheets. The machines around her beeped steadily, marking each fragile heartbeat.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she managed a ghost of a smile. "Liv… I saw the announcement online. Congratulations."
She had no idea what kind of monster Zachary really was—she thought I'd found my happily-ever-after.
I took her hand, so cold and light it felt like holding a bird's wing.
"You're going to beat this," I said, each word a promise. "I swear it."
Vivian's eyes, still somehow bright despite everything, searched my face. "Don't sacrifice everything for me, Liv. If… if I don't make it, promise you'll live your life."
I couldn't speak past the lump in my throat, focusing instead on peeling an apple with mechanical precision.
[Side Quest Activated: Earn Zachary's complete trust. Reward: Universal Hacking Skill—24-hour access.]The System's notification pinged in my consciousness.
Perfect.
Outside the hospital, my phone buzzed with an encrypted file from Mike.
The report was detailed: Kevin Wilson, Zachary's driver, had been making unauthorized stops every Wednesday night at an exclusive club called "Nightfall," staying for 3-4 hours each time.
I knew Nightfall well—the city's most exclusive playground for the corrupt elite, where deals darker than the night itself were made.
The kidney donor—Ethan Miller, a broke college kid drowning in gambling debts, desperate enough to consider selling an organ.
Zachary wanted me to seduce him, blackmail him, break him.
As I scrolled through the files, the pieces of my revenge began falling into place.
That evening, I texted Zachary: "I'll do it. For Vivian. Send me Ethan's details."
His reply came instantly: "Hotel Meridian, Suite 1408. 8 PM. Don't disappoint me."
I stared at his message, a smile curling my lips that held no warmth.
Tricks? Oh, Zachary. You have no idea what's coming.
The hotel suite Zachary had arranged screamed money—all crystal chandeliers and marble countertops.
When I pushed open the door, a lanky young man jumped to his feet from the sofa. Ethan Miller—barely old enough to drink, with the haunted eyes of someone drowning in debt.
His eyes widened when he saw me, then darted away nervously.
I'd chosen my outfit carefully—a modest white dress, minimal makeup. The picture of innocence.
"Olivia Shaw?" His voice cracked slightly.
I nodded, taking a seat across from him and sliding a bank card across the coffee table.
"Five hundred thousand. Consider it a down payment."
Ethan's breath hitched, his eyes locked on the card like a starving man eyeing a feast.
"But Mr. Reed said I should…" he stammered, flushing crimson.
"I know exactly what he wants," I cut him off, my voice gentle but steel-edged. "But I'm offering a better deal."
Confusion flickered across his face.
I leaned in, holding his gaze. "Five hundred grand for your word. Tell Zachary you'll donate the kidney. Play along. When it's over, you get the rest of the money and keep both kidneys. Win-win."
Ethan blinked rapidly. "Wait—what? Don't you need the kidney for your sister?"
"Of course I'm saving my sister," I smiled. "But who said it has to be your kidney?"
Confusion clouded his features, but greed won out.
He reached for the card with trembling fingers. "Okay. I'm in. But if Zachary finds out…"
"He won't," I stood, smoothing my dress. "Just stick to the script. As far as anyone knows, I'm blackmailing you into compliance, not paying you off."
I drilled him on his lines until he could recite them in his sleep, then left him clutching the bank card like a lifeline.
In the elevator down, I called Zachary, injecting a perfect tremor into my voice.
"Z-Zachary? It's done. He'll do it."
Zachary was practically purring with satisfaction at my "success."
For once, his voice was gentle, promising a European honeymoon after my sister's successful surgery.
I murmured appropriately grateful responses while stepping out of the elevator.
As I crossed the lobby, a man in a baseball cap fell into step beside me, discreetly passing me a thumb-sized camera.
"Got everything, Ms. Shaw. Crystal clear audio and video."
I pocketed the device and tapped my phone, transferring his payment. "Excellent work, Mike."
Another piece in place—the carefully staged and recorded "blackmail" of Ethan Miller.
Edited, of course, to show exactly what I needed Zachary to see.
Back in my apartment, I activated the System's reward: Universal Hacking Skill.
Instantly, the digital architecture of the entire city materialized before me—streams of data flowing like luminescent rivers.
Nightfall's security system—supposedly unhackable—crumbled before me like wet paper.
Terabytes of surveillance footage, client records, and transaction histories unfurled at my command.
Ignoring the blackmail-worthy footage of celebrities and politicians, I zeroed in on Kevin Wilson's movements.
Every Wednesday night like clockwork, he'd slip into the most exclusive VIP room on the third floor.
The room was consistently booked under one name: Quinn Parker.
The playboy heir to the Parker fortune and, more importantly, Zachary Reed's most bitter rival in both business and pleasure.
Why would Zachary's trusted driver be meeting his sworn enemy?
I dug deeper, slicing through layers of encryption until I found it—an email chain.
Sent through an anonymous server, addressed to Quinn Parker's private account.
Attached was an audio file.
I downloaded and cracked it open.
Two voices—Kevin Wilson's distinctive drawl and another, digitally altered but unmistakable to me: Frank Collins, Zachary's right-hand man for a decade.
"Progress report?" "Relax, Frank. The info's been leaked. Zachary's about to lose the Westlake deal."
"What's Parker saying?"
"Quinn says the budget's unlimited. He wants Reed destroyed, whatever it costs."
Jackpot.
Frank Collins—the man Zachary trusted with his life and career—had been selling him out to his worst enemy for God knows how long.
And Kevin was their inside man, feeding them Zachary's every move.
I archived everything, a savage satisfaction spreading through me.
Oh, Zachary. You arrogant bastard. You think you're the puppet master, but you're tangled in strings you don't even see.
And I'm going to cut those strings one by one, watching you fall, until you taste the same bitter poison you've fed to others.
