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The Game Has Begun
Last Updated:
2025-04-26 20:36:10
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Olivia’s mind went blank for a moment, the words etching themselves into her consciousness as if they were meant to haunt her. Her pulse quickened, her throat tightening. A shiver ran down her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her first instinct was to throw the envelope and rose away, to pretend none of this had happened. But she couldn’t. She felt... trapped by the message. With a shaky breath, she closed the locker door, the harsh click of the lock sounding far too loud in the quiet room. She tried to shake the feeling off, forcing herself to breathe. The envelope and its contents remained in her hand, their weight suddenly unbearable. The game had just begun? What game? She could have dismissed it, chalked it up to a stupid prank, but it wasn’t that simple. The letter had included her name. Olivia Harris. Someone knew exactly where she worked. They knew which locker was hers. Her grip tightened around the envelope. A mix of fear and dread coiled
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"Can I come in with you?" Racheal’s voice was thick with seduction, her tone dripping like honey poured in slow motion. She leaned slightly closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief, and something darker beneath. Christopher’s gaze swept over her figure. The short, barely-there dress clung to her like a second skin. The soft sheen of her lip gloss caught the light, and her perfume lingered in the air between them—sweet, overpowering, invasive. He frowned. What was going on? "Do you have somewhere you want to head to?" he asked, his tone even but suspicious. His eyes didn’t drift lower. He stared straight into hers, hard and sharp. "Tell one of the staff to arrange a car for you." But Racheal only laughed, a low, sultry sound as she covered her mouth with delicate fingers. "No, Christopher," she said, stretching his name like a caress. Her fingers trailed down his chest, slow and deliberate, until they brushed across his nipple, circling lightly. A calculated move. His expressi
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Christopher sat alone in his study, the quiet scratch of his pen moving across paper the only sound in the room. Shadows curled at the edges of the lamplight, and the air held a stillness that wasn’t quite peaceful. He paused mid-sentence, the ink drying beneath his fingertips as his thoughts wandered, to Racheal. Her words echoed in his mind, sharp and filled with something venomous. He closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled. A muscle ticked in his jaw. His gaze shifted to the telephone on the corner of his desk. Without hesitation, he reached for it and dialed. A servant answered quickly, the voice distant on the other end. “Bring Olivia to my study.” His voice was low, controlled. He hung up without another word. Minutes passed. He didn’t move, just stared ahead at nothing. Then a gentle knock interrupted the silence. The door opened slowly. Olivia stepped inside, her presence quiet, almost careful. She wore a long green dress, modest in cut but flowing with quiet g
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Olivia slipped into the back seat of Christopher’s car, her fingers brushing nervously over her skirt as she settled beside him. Her heart was racing—loud, wild, relentless. Today wasn’t just another day and the weight of it pressed heavily on her chest. The driver entered moments later, and the car eased into motion. They were headed to the beauty salon—the one Christopher had subtly mentioned the night before during dinner. Just a few cryptic words, then silence. That was all he gave her. She had stayed up half the night going over possible scenarios, trying to anticipate every reaction, every outcome. But none of it was enough. Preparation meant nothing when anxiety had a vice grip on your spine. She stole a glance to her right. Christopher sat with his head leaned back, eyes closed, as if the day ahead meant nothing. Calm. Always so maddeningly calm. But then again, he wasn’t the one who had to approach a stranger and coax out delicate information. He wasn’t the one wh
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Olivia stepped deeper into the hall and spotted an empty seat near the corner. She slid into it with practiced ease, smoothing her dress and pulling out her phone to feign interest. Her heart was beating far too fast for comfort, but her face remained stoic. A worker approached—a young woman with short black hair tucked neatly under a cap, her gloved hands folded politely. “Good morning, ma'am,” she said with a respectful smile. Olivia glanced at her, then remembered who she was meant to be. Her real self—the kind, soft-spoken girl, had no place here. She cleared her throat and sank back into the seat, voice cool and clipped. “I’ll begin later.” The worker nodded and walked away, unfazed. Olivia exhaled slowly. She hated being curt, but in here, she wasn’t Olivia Harris. She was a poised, high-class woman with status—and that role demanded presence, not kindness. Her eyes scanned the salon. The space smelled of expensive oils and faint rosewater. Sleek mirrors lined the
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Olivia’s breath hitched, her entire body going rigid. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. The way Mrs. Kimberly’s eyes narrowed—sharp and probing, it was like she was being stripped bare right in the middle of the room. Olivia’s heart pounded against her ribs, loud and fast, like a warning drum in her chest. Did she know? Had she figured her out? A cold sweat crept down the back of her neck, but Olivia held her ground, forcing her face to remain neutral. Calm. Unbothered. Inside, though, she was unraveling. Mrs. Kimberly took one step forward. Then another. Each footfall echoed louder than the last, as if the whole salon had gone quiet. Olivia’s fingers curled slightly by her side. She couldn’t tell if the woman was about to accuse her or dismiss her, or worse. Then suddenly, just when Olivia’s nerves were about to snap— “Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Kimberly exclaimed, breaking into a wide smile before wrapping her arms around Olivia. The hug came so suddenly, Olivia nearly stumbled. She f
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Right now, Olivia couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Her vision blurred as the pressure against her throat tightened, each breath more difficult than the last. Just moments ago, the woman had worn a mask of warmth and charm in the hall, smiling, speaking sweetly. But out here in the corridor, she’d shed the act, revealing something darker. A twisted truth. From the little Olivia could grasp through her panic, Mrs. Kimberly was mistaking her for someone else—a journalist, apparently. Someone who had once uncovered a dangerous secret. Someone who had been paid to keep silent. Blackmail... the woman had mentioned blackmail. What was going on? Olivia’s mind raced. If she didn’t figure out what this woman believed, what she feared, then she wouldn’t just fail her mission. She might not even make it out of this corridor. And worse, the truth she came searching for might die right here with her. “C-Ca-Can we talk?” Olivia choked out, her voice barely more than a strained
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Olivia stiffened. The woman had received the same symbol, a withered black rose. Just like the one she’d gotten days ago. Was it a coincidence? Or was she now the next pawn in someone’s twisted game? She swallowed hard, trying to piece it all together. Someone had forced this woman to call the police right after the shot was fired. Someone had planned everything to make her brother look guilty. And now… that same someone had sent her a warning. “Do you know why they blackmailed you?” Olivia asked, her voice low but firm. Mrs. Kimberly shook her head, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t. I swear I don’t. I just… I got the messages. They knew things about me, things no one should know. I didn’t have a choice.” Her voice cracked as she looked away, shame flickering across her face. “I was scared.” Olivia’s chest tightened. For a moment, she saw a different version of the woman—one no longer poised or proud, but vulnerable. Frightened. Used. Still, her brother was paying the price
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As usual, Olivia freshened up, taking extra time to gather her thoughts before heading to the dining room. She wasn’t sure why she felt uneasy this morning. Maybe it was the lingering feeling from last night—being carried into her room by Christopher. The thought of it had haunted her since she woke up, and now, it was hard to shake off. Why did it bother her so much? He was just a cold, distant man, right? Still, the thought of his hands on her was enough to stir a mix of emotions, something she couldn’t quite place. When she entered the dining room, Christopher and Sophia were already sitting at the table. Racheal, however, was nowhere to be seen, which was odd. Olivia glanced around briefly, but the absence didn’t linger in her mind for long. She took her seat, offering Christopher a neutral smile. "Good morning, Mr. Christopher." Her voice sounded steady, but there was a nervous flutter in her chest. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes flickered toward her as she s
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The study was suddenly swallowed in darkness, the only light now coming from the faint glow of the fireplace. The storm outside howled louder, and the room seemed to shrink with the shadows. “Stay calm,” Christopher said evenly. “It’ll be fixed soon.” Olivia nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Mr. Christopher,” she called, her voice barely above a whisper, as she nervously bit her lip. “Hm?” he responded, curious. “I have a small request,” she began, then quickly added, “It’s about my brother’s case.” “I’m listening." “If there’s anything I can do to help, even something small, please let me know. I know you’re handling the case, but I want to be useful. I want to do something... anything.” For a long moment, Christopher didn’t reply. Olivia could feel the weight of his gaze, even in the dark, as though he was thinking, processing her words. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than before, though still as controlled as ever. “Okay.” The silen
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Christopher led the way out of the dining room, his footsteps confident and unhurried. Olivia followed a few steps behind, her own pace slower. They ascended the grand staircase to the top floor, Christopher’s private floor, where silence seemed to hang heavier and the air felt colder, more serious. He stopped in front of a wide double door and pushed it open, revealing his study. The study had two entrances along the same corridor, each with its own door. The last time Christopher had called Olivia in, she had entered through the front door, which led to the section where he usually worked. But the door they were now approaching was the main entrance to the study, the heart of the room. The room was nothing short of breathtaking. Tall shelves lined the walls, filled with thick leather-bound books, some old, others pristine. One corner housed a large, gleaming oak desk, clutter-free save for a sleek laptop and a silver penholder. A painting of a stormy ocean hung above it—wild, u
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Olivia stiffened. The woman had received the same symbol, a withered black rose. Just like the one she’d gotten days ago. Was it a coincidence? Or was she now the next pawn in someone’s twisted game? She swallowed hard, trying to piece it all together. Someone had forced this woman to call the police right after the shot was fired. Someone had planned everything to make her brother look guilty. And now… that same someone had sent her a warning. “Do you know why they blackmailed you?” Olivia asked, her voice low but firm. Mrs. Kimberly shook her head, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t. I swear I don’t. I just… I got the messages. They knew things about me, things no one should know. I didn’t have a choice.” Her voice cracked as she looked away, shame flickering across her face. “I was scared.” Olivia’s chest tightened. For a moment, she saw a different version of the woman—one no longer poised or proud, but vulnerable. Frightened. Used. Still, her brother was paying the price
Contracted To The Cold Billionaire Lawyer Who Hired You?
Right now, Olivia couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Her vision blurred as the pressure against her throat tightened, each breath more difficult than the last. Just moments ago, the woman had worn a mask of warmth and charm in the hall, smiling, speaking sweetly. But out here in the corridor, she’d shed the act, revealing something darker. A twisted truth. From the little Olivia could grasp through her panic, Mrs. Kimberly was mistaking her for someone else—a journalist, apparently. Someone who had once uncovered a dangerous secret. Someone who had been paid to keep silent. Blackmail... the woman had mentioned blackmail. What was going on? Olivia’s mind raced. If she didn’t figure out what this woman believed, what she feared, then she wouldn’t just fail her mission. She might not even make it out of this corridor. And worse, the truth she came searching for might die right here with her. “C-Ca-Can we talk?” Olivia choked out, her voice barely more than a strained
Contracted To The Cold Billionaire Lawyer Journalist?
Olivia’s breath hitched, her entire body going rigid. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. The way Mrs. Kimberly’s eyes narrowed—sharp and probing, it was like she was being stripped bare right in the middle of the room. Olivia’s heart pounded against her ribs, loud and fast, like a warning drum in her chest. Did she know? Had she figured her out? A cold sweat crept down the back of her neck, but Olivia held her ground, forcing her face to remain neutral. Calm. Unbothered. Inside, though, she was unraveling. Mrs. Kimberly took one step forward. Then another. Each footfall echoed louder than the last, as if the whole salon had gone quiet. Olivia’s fingers curled slightly by her side. She couldn’t tell if the woman was about to accuse her or dismiss her, or worse. Then suddenly, just when Olivia’s nerves were about to snap— “Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Kimberly exclaimed, breaking into a wide smile before wrapping her arms around Olivia. The hug came so suddenly, Olivia nearly stumbled. She f
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Olivia stepped deeper into the hall and spotted an empty seat near the corner. She slid into it with practiced ease, smoothing her dress and pulling out her phone to feign interest. Her heart was beating far too fast for comfort, but her face remained stoic. A worker approached—a young woman with short black hair tucked neatly under a cap, her gloved hands folded politely. “Good morning, ma'am,” she said with a respectful smile. Olivia glanced at her, then remembered who she was meant to be. Her real self—the kind, soft-spoken girl, had no place here. She cleared her throat and sank back into the seat, voice cool and clipped. “I’ll begin later.” The worker nodded and walked away, unfazed. Olivia exhaled slowly. She hated being curt, but in here, she wasn’t Olivia Harris. She was a poised, high-class woman with status—and that role demanded presence, not kindness. Her eyes scanned the salon. The space smelled of expensive oils and faint rosewater. Sleek mirrors lined the
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Olivia slipped into the back seat of Christopher’s car, her fingers brushing nervously over her skirt as she settled beside him. Her heart was racing—loud, wild, relentless. Today wasn’t just another day and the weight of it pressed heavily on her chest. The driver entered moments later, and the car eased into motion. They were headed to the beauty salon—the one Christopher had subtly mentioned the night before during dinner. Just a few cryptic words, then silence. That was all he gave her. She had stayed up half the night going over possible scenarios, trying to anticipate every reaction, every outcome. But none of it was enough. Preparation meant nothing when anxiety had a vice grip on your spine. She stole a glance to her right. Christopher sat with his head leaned back, eyes closed, as if the day ahead meant nothing. Calm. Always so maddeningly calm. But then again, he wasn’t the one who had to approach a stranger and coax out delicate information. He wasn’t the one wh
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Christopher sat alone in his study, the quiet scratch of his pen moving across paper the only sound in the room. Shadows curled at the edges of the lamplight, and the air held a stillness that wasn’t quite peaceful. He paused mid-sentence, the ink drying beneath his fingertips as his thoughts wandered, to Racheal. Her words echoed in his mind, sharp and filled with something venomous. He closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled. A muscle ticked in his jaw. His gaze shifted to the telephone on the corner of his desk. Without hesitation, he reached for it and dialed. A servant answered quickly, the voice distant on the other end. “Bring Olivia to my study.” His voice was low, controlled. He hung up without another word. Minutes passed. He didn’t move, just stared ahead at nothing. Then a gentle knock interrupted the silence. The door opened slowly. Olivia stepped inside, her presence quiet, almost careful. She wore a long green dress, modest in cut but flowing with quiet g
