Chapter 7%
For Brandon, leaving his bids open for select auction items was nothing out of the ordinary. But booking the entire auction? That was unprecedented.&
Even the man who had followed him loyally for years was visibly stunned.”
“Maisy got slapped by some blind idiot today,” Brandon said casually. “I’m giving her a gift to cheer her up.“%
The man swallowed, then cast me a complicated glance–pity, confusion, maybe even guilt flickering in his eyes–before nodding and hurrying out.
“Brandon,” I called, forcing myself upright despite the pounding in my head. I spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “I was wrong about you.“&
He frowned slightly, as if unsure what I meant. But I had already turned and walked away, shoulders stiff with barely contained rage./ That night, I hosted a gathering at my villa. A dozen women from the city’s upper crust–socialites, trophy wives, heiresses–filled the lounge with the scent of perfume and anger.”
Freya, my closest friend, slammed her wine glass onto the table, nearly shattering it. “Unbelievable! If you hadn’t carried him out of that damn wolf–infested snowfield, he’d have died years ago!“}
Seven or eight of the women surrounded me, each taking turns applying ice packs to my swollen cheek. Their brows furrowed, their lips curled in disgust.
“Mr. Willis really crossed a line,” one of them said darkly. “Everyone knows you broke your leg looking for him on that ridiculous expedition.”
*Exactly. You carried him on your back for a whole day and night down that snow–covered mountain and now some two–faced brat takes the credit?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, hard enough to taste blood again. I forced myself to remain calm. Then, I signaled the staff to bring out the sealed boxes.
Inside were my carefully collected weapons–photos and audio recordings. I set them on the table like poker chips at a high–stakes game.
“These,” I said, lifting one folder, “are the affairs Maisy’s been having with your husbands and fiancés. Thank you for backing me at the auction. If you hadn’t, my private photos would’ve been turned into toys for those bastards… maybe even plastered all over the internet.”
Earlier that day, I hadn’t gone to the bathroom just to cry. I had locked the door, called each of them one by one and begged–through sobs and shame–for financial support.
Most of them were longtime friends. And more importantly, women whose marriages were tied up in business and bloodlines. In our world, leverage was worth more than love.
Now, one by one, they reached out to claim their folders. Hands trembled as they flipped through the evidence. Some faces turned white. Others burned red with fury.”
“That bitch! She’ll sleep with anyone for a shortcut,” one spat, throwing her folder down. “A scheming little slut–how is Brandon still treating her like gold?“}
“Thank god Leia caught on to her. Now we’ve got proof. When I divorce that cheating bastard, he’ll be lucky to leave with his shoes.“}
I leaned back against the velvet couch and sighed. “I never imagined the girl Brandon and I once sponsored would grow claws this sharp. Once Graham Holdings gains momentum, I’ll return everything I owe you.”
One of the wives waved me off. “Please. That little bit of money? We basically traded it for insurance. With this kind of evidence, my husband will be begging me not to take the house.”}
Another woman laughed. “You don’t owe us anything. Think of it as an investment–we’re shareholders now!“}
Laughter echoed around the room, mingling with the clink of wine glasses. We drank late into the night, high on spite and sisterhood.”
But the next morning, reality came crashing back in.”
“Wake up!” Freya’s panicked voice jolted me from sleep. She was shaking me hard, her phone clutched in one hand. “Leia–your private photos got leaked online!“}
My heart slammed against my ribs. I sat bolt upright, the alcohol fog vanishing in an instant. My fingers scrambled for my phone.>
It was true.
Every single one of the 365 private photos I had reclaimed from the auction–each supposedly locked away safely–was now floating freely across the internet. They had been processed in crystal–clear HD and bundled neatly into a downloadable zip file, spreading like wildfire.
My phone buzzed nonstop. Notifications poured in from every social media app.
[Didn’t expect this from you. Pretending to be a classy lady–turns out you’re just a bitch in heat.]”
[What’s your rate for a night, sweetheart? Nine bucks with free shipping?]}
[Feeling lonely, little kitten? I make house calls.]
My vision blurred. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the phone.
I had been the only one to win those photos at the auction. I’d secured every last copy. There should have been no one else who could access them.
Except for the man who started it all.
Brandon.
