Chapter 2
1654words
Zachary lowered his guard completely, parading me around like a trophy.
At a high-profile fashion gala, he clutched my hand possessively under the paparazzi's flashing cameras, his media smile never faltering.
"Liv's been under so much stress lately with her sister's condition," he told the reporters, his voice dripping with manufactured concern. "But I've got good news—we've found a kidney donor. The surgery's being scheduled as we speak."
He played the role of devoted fiancé perfectly—the powerful man moving heaven and earth to save his beloved's sister. The media ate it up.
Online comments flooded in: "Relationship goals!" "She hit the jackpot with him!" "What a power couple!"
I played my part too—nestling against his chest, gazing up at him with adoring eyes.
Midway through the event, I excused myself to the ladies' room and, right on schedule, "accidentally" crossed paths with Quinn Parker in a secluded hallway.
He was holding court with his entourage, champagne in hand. When he spotted me, his eyes raked over me appreciatively before his lips curled into a predatory smile.
"Well, well. The future Mrs. Reed, wandering all alone? Dangerous habit."
I flinched, taking a small step backward. "Mr. Parker…"
"Don't look so terrified, sweetheart. I don't bite… unless asked." He smirked, eyeing me like a rare artwork. "Reed's a lucky bastard, landing a piece like you."
His cronies snickered on cue.
I bit my lip, letting my eyes water slightly—the perfect picture of a woman intimidated but too polite to make a scene.
"I should get back," I murmured, ducking my head and turning away.
"Hold up." Quinn's voice stopped me cold.
He moved closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Reed's just playing with you, you know that, right?"
I froze, then looked up at him with wide, startled eyes.
His smile was pure fox—all teeth and cunning. "I know what he is. Stay with him, and you'll end up discarded. With me, though… I'd treat you right."
I gaped at his audacity, shaking my head frantically, as if too shocked to speak.
Right on cue, my clutch "slipped" from my trembling fingers, hitting the marble floor with a clatter.
A small voice recorder tumbled out, sliding to a stop at Quinn's polished shoes.
Quinn's expression hardened in an instant.
Quinn Parker's eyes locked onto the device, his playboy charm evaporating into something dangerous.
The air between us crackled with sudden tension.
His entourage fell silent, sensing the shift.
I dropped to my knees, fumbling for the recorder with shaking hands, my panic seemingly making me more clumsy.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry," I babbled, voice pitched high with distress.
"What exactly is this?" Quinn snatched up the recorder before I could reach it, his voice like ice.
"It's—it's just my lines," I stammered. "For an audition. I record them to practice."
The lie was pathetically transparent.
Quinn's lip curled as he hit play without hesitation.
My voice filled the hallway—not rehearsing lines, but my conversation with Ethan Miller in that hotel suite.
"Five hundred thousand for your word."
"I guarantee you won't actually have to lie on the operating table."
"From now on, I'm the one blackmailing you, not Zachary Reed."
My recorded voice was steel-cold and calculating—nothing like the frightened mouse I was pretending to be.
Quinn's eyes narrowed to slits.
He listened to the whole thing before clicking it off and studying me with new interest.
"Well, well." He tossed the recorder in his palm. "You're not Reed's pet after all. You're the wolf in his bed."
I said nothing, keeping my head bowed, shoulders trembling—not with fear now, but with barely contained rage.
"What's your endgame here?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
I raised my eyes to his, letting him see the raw hatred burning there, tears of pure rage threatening to spill over.
I didn't need words—my eyes told the whole story of what Zachary had done to me.
Quinn understood immediately.
He was quiet for a beat, then let out a low whistle.
"Count me in." He pressed the recorder back into my palm. "Reed's enemy is definitely my friend. What do you need?"
"I don't need your help," I said coldly, each word precise. "I want to make a deal."
The arrangement with Quinn was elegantly simple.
I provided copies of the evidence showing Frank and Kevin's betrayal.
In return, he would ensure this information reached Zachary at precisely the right moment.
Quinn was no fool—he instantly grasped my strategy.
Better to let Zachary learn of his betrayal from an enemy than from me. The psychological impact would be devastating—to be abandoned by everyone he trusted, all at once.
"Damn, you're cold-blooded," Quinn said, a new respect in his eyes. "I think I'm falling for you a little."
"Save it, Parker," I replied, my face a mask of indifference. "This is strictly business."
Back in Zachary's world, I resumed my role as the perfect, submissive fiancée.
I presented Zachary with the carefully edited recording of my meeting with Ethan.
"I recorded everything, just to be safe," I told him, eyes downcast like a child seeking approval. "Now he can't back out."
Zachary listened, his smile growing wider with each threatening word I'd supposedly used on Ethan.
He believed he'd broken me completely—turned me into his perfect weapon out of desperation to save my sister.
He had no idea that the noose was already around his neck, waiting for me to kick away the chair.
The dominoes began falling three days later. A key investor pulled out of Zachary's new film project without warning, leaving production in limbo.
Within hours, Cartier announced they were terminating his endorsement contract, citing vague "image incompatibility issues."
The hits kept coming.
Blind items appeared on industry forums about his abusive behavior toward staff. His PR team scrambled to contain the damage, but screenshots had already gone viral.
Zachary's carefully cultivated image was crumbling by the hour.
His composure cracked. He screamed at his assistant for bringing the wrong brand of water. He fired a makeup artist for suggesting a different hairstyle.
Paranoia set in—he started questioning everyone's loyalty.
And that's when Quinn Parker made his move.
Zachary stumbled home past midnight, reeking of whiskey and desperation.
He slammed the door open so hard it cracked the wall. "YOU!" he roared. "What did you tell Quinn Parker?!"
I rushed to him, the picture of concern. "Zachary! What's wrong? What happened?"
"What happened?" He shoved me hard, sending me crashing into the wall. "I'll show you what happened."
His eyes were wild, pupils dilated with rage and alcohol as he threw his phone at my feet.
"LOOK!"
On the screen was a message thread between him and Quinn Parker.
Quinn had sent several surveillance photos and an audio file.
The images showed Kevin and Frank in deep conversation at Nightfall, heads together, passing documents between them.
The audio captured Frank's voice clearly: "Reed won't suspect a thing. We'll have the contracts switched before the signing."
Quinn's message was the perfect twist of the knife: "How's it feel to be surrounded by traitors, Reed? BTW, had a fascinating chat with your fiancée the other night. Smart girl. Knows more than she lets on."
With that single line, he'd redirected Zachary's rage squarely at me.
"WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING?" Zachary's hand closed around my throat, slamming me against the wall so hard my vision blurred.
"I—can't—" I choked out, genuine tears springing to my eyes as my airway constricted.
"LIAR!" He squeezed harder, his face contorted beyond recognition. "Why would Parker mention you? What did you tell him? WHAT DID YOU DO?"
I stopped fighting, letting my arms fall limply to my sides, my eyes locked on his.
As darkness crept into the edges of my vision, a single thought crystallized in my mind.
Not enough.
This isn't enough to break him completely.
Just as consciousness began to slip away, the apartment door burst open with a crash.
"POLICE! FREEZE!" Multiple officers stormed in, weapons drawn.
Zachary released me instantly, stumbling backward.
I crumpled to the floor, gulping air into my burning lungs, the imprint of his fingers already darkening on my throat.
"Officers, there's been a misunderstanding." Frank Collins appeared in the doorway, all smooth damage control. "Just a heated argument between fiancés."
"A 'quarrel' that leaves strangulation marks?" The officer knelt beside me, her voice firm but gentle. "Ma'am, we can take you to the hospital, file charges. Get you a restraining order."
I coughed painfully, looking up at Zachary through genuine tears.
Fear flashed across his face—not for me, but for his career.
A domestic violence charge would destroy everything he'd built.
"No," I rasped, shaking my head. "It was… just an argument. I'm fine."
The officer looked skeptical but couldn't force the issue. They left after warning Zachary that they'd be watching the situation.
Frank wiped sweat from his brow, immediately turning to damage control mode with Zachary.
Using the wall for support, I pulled myself to my feet.
"Did you call them?" Zachary hissed, his rage barely contained.
"No," I whispered, then started laughing—a broken, hysterical sound. "Why would you think that, Zach? I've done everything for you. EVERYTHING! For my sister, I was willing to sell my body! And this is how you repay me?"
"You accuse me, you beat me, you try to KILL me!" I collapsed into sobs, hands covering my face. "What am I to you? Just a toy you can break?"
My performance hit its mark—Zachary's anger faltered, uncertainty creeping in.
He stared at the bruises forming on my neck, at my tear-streaked face, and for the first time, doubt clouded his eyes.
Frank Collins watched the entire scene with calculating eyes, his expression giving nothing away.
Perfect. Let the seeds of doubt grow between them.
One paranoid, one treacherous.
The real show was only beginning.
