CHAPTER 5

Jillian tried to be invisible the rest of the day.

She kept her head down, and kept her hands busy with paperwork, her ears open to the clacking of keyboards and the hum of voices around her. But in her mind, she was falling apart.

Dominic Pierre.

She couldn't stop muttering his name to herself, over and over in her head.

He was Gerald's brother. Gerald, the very same man who had apparently used her, threatened her, and now loomed over her like an armed gun. And Dominic, the man was intense and she was beginning to feel something for him. 

The struggle tore at her.

It was not like she had anything against the Pierres, but most times, one bad egg usually means all the eggs by extension are bad. And Gerald was fucking spoilt.

And yet, every time she remembered the way he'd looked at her—serious, hot, smoldering—it was harder to believe that he was anything like Gerald at all.

Even so, she couldn't afford to trust anyone. Not again.

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Gerald has always been underestimated by his family and that’s the part that stung the most.

Dominic thinks he’s impulsive. A child with a trust fund and a bottle of expensive scotch. His mother believes he’s harmless, because he smiles at dinner and hasn’t made use of his Havard law degree.

Even Jillian, little red-haired storm that she is, thinks she saw the real him in that hotel bed.

But she didn’t.

She saw what he let her see.

Now, she’ll learn what happens when you crawl into bed with a Pierre and forget which one holds the knife.

From the upper balcony, Gerald watched as she walked out of Dominic’s office. He didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what was happening.

His ‘beloved’ brother was warming to her.

It was in the way his eyes lingered. The way his voice softened when he said her name in the meeting earlier. The way he looked at her like she was more than a secretary.

Gerald was very much familiar with that look.

He once gave it to their old piano teacher, Ms. Aurielle. It only lasted three weeks before Father found out and shipped her back to where she came from with a check and a warning.

Funny how things repeat.

When Dominic finally closed the door, I made my move.

Down the east corridor. Past the archive room. Into the sublevel copy room where my phone’s signal always died and the cameras conveniently didn’t reach.

I opened the file I’d assembled on her. Digital and print. Compiled by the private investigator I’d hired last week, the moment I saw her walk in with mother like some shiny new pawn.

Her full name: Jillian Eloise Richards. Cute, how that middle name worked out.

College transcript: stellar, until it wasn’t.

Her past: buried but not gone.

Expelled. For “inappropriate conduct” with a professor. They had a huge age difference and it was scandalous. Somehow, she’d gotten herself entangled in a school affair and because of that she dropped out and vanished from campus the same month the professor resigned.

It wasn’t hard for Gerald to dig it all up.

Everyone had a past. Hers was just easier to weaponize.

Later that day, Gerald tapped the photo again.

It was just sex. But now, it was his leverage against her.

He opened his email and began composing a message. Not to her, not yet, anyway, but to their internal IT systems rep. An alias account.

Subject line: Anonymous Report - HR Threat

Body:

Employee Jillian Richards has potentially unstable behavior and a past that should be reviewed. Attached is a document she may not want others to see. I don’t want trouble—just transparency.

Sincerely,

A concerned observer.

Gera;d attached a low-resolution copy of the photo. Not damning enough to ruin her yet. But enough to start whispers.

After hitting send, he sat back and smiled.

That afternoon, he walked past her cubicle but she didn’t look up. Smart girl. She was learning.

But her hands trembled slightly on the keyboard. And her eyes… they were watching Dominic’s office again.

He leaned on the edge of her desk. “Busy, red?”

She stiffened. “Yes.”

“You might want to double-check the numbers on that spreadsheet. Last I checked, we don’t round financial projections down.”

Her head snapped toward the screen, confusion in her eyes. Then panic.

Gerald had altered the file that morning. Just enough to make her look careless. Not enough to get her fired, though. He kind of loved getting her worked up in the worst possible way.

“Oh,” he added as he turned away, “and don’t forget about that locker note.”

He didn’t wait for her response.

Later that evening

Her inbox pinged. He’d made sure of it.

A spoofed email from HR, marked URGENT.

Ms. Richards, we’ve received a concern regarding professional boundaries. Please meet with us privately tomorrow morning. 9:15 a.m. Discretion is appreciated.

It wasn’t real but it would shake her and that was what he wanted.

As he poured himself a drink in his office overlooking the city, he watched her reflection as she walked toward the elevators, her shoulders drawn back, her face pale.

She still had the audacity to pretend she had power. To pretend she was clean.

The truth?

She was Gerald’s web now.

And the more she tried to escape, the harder he’d pull.

He didn’t want her to lose her job. He didn’t even want her gone.

He just wanted to see how far she’d fall before Dominic tried to catch her.

Because the moment Dominic touched what was his—

This stopped being about Jillian.

And started being about him.