Chapter 3

Hailey

The red light blinked, and my body froze. I couldn’t breathe, and neither could I move.

“Wh…what did you do?” The words poured out of me, raw and terrified. Zeke’s smirk was carved in shadow, his hand still pressed between my thighs, and his voice let out a dark purr.

“I wondered,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “How your mayor daddy would feel watching his perfect little daughter moaning forme.”

My stomach dropped; the floor felt like it split beneath me. “No…”

“Oh yes.” His thumb stroked more, deliberately slow, making my traitorous body twitch. “The world would love it too. Headlines, screens, whispers, your name on every filthy man’s tongue.”

I shook my head in desperation. “Delete it. Please…”

He chuckled low, his voice deeper, sending cold sensations within my skin. "I don’t eliminate leverage, sweetheart; instead, I encourage you to use it. If you want your secret safe, let me win.”

stalk,

My knees buckled. “The case?”

He nodded, his eyes gleaming. “You want to be Daddy’s golden girl; you want to keep that spotless little record? Then you’ll stand in court tomorrow and you’ll hand me my freedom.”

“Have you been stalking me?” Tears burned my eyes. “You can’t…”

“I already have, and I don’t stalk, baby. I have excellent guts.” He stepped back, releasing me like nothing. My innocence wrapped around his fingers, and without warning, he slid it in his mouth. “Hmmm, you taste good.”

I clenched my fist until my nails dug against my palm. He turned his back on me, his eyes on the papers on the floor. “Keep that; it won’t help you anymore.”

And then he was gone, as silent as smoke. I crumpled against the cabinet, trembling, my thighs still slick with the humiliation he’d left behind.

*

I couldn’t stop seeing the red light. That tiny blinking eye followed me home, into my shower, and into my dreams. When I closed my eyes, I heard his voice again.

“I wondered how your mayor daddy would feel watching his little girl moaning for me.”

I shook so hard I had to grip the sink. Each breath felt like shattered glass. By the time I walked into the living room, my father was waiting; the lamp was the only light, throwing shadows that made him look sharper and crueler. He sat stiff in his chair, one hand clenched around a tumbler of whiskey.

“You embarrassed me today. ”

I froze in the doorway that led to the kitchen. From his look, he didn’t care why I was still up by that time of night. “The witness…”

“The witness?” His laugh was humorless.

“The witness was weak, yes. But you were weaker. Unlike your sister.” His voice cut deeper with every word. “She saved a senator’s life last night, while you, my so-called rising star, let the whole courtroom watch you choke.”

I swallowed hard, my nails biting my palms. “I didn’t choke.”

“Then what was it?” he leaned forward, his eyes burning. “Because from where I sat, you looked like a girl out of her depth.”

Heat stung behind my eyes. “you don’t understand…”

“I don’t want excuses. Tomorrow is your final chance.” He rose from his seat, the tumbler still in his hand. “Lock Massimo away, or don’t bother calling yourself my daughter.”

The words shattered something inside me. I turned before he could see my face crumble, my feet striking hard against the floor as I fled upstairs.

The tears came in silence, soaking my pillow for the first time in years; I felt small, invisible, and replaceable. And tomorrow, the world would see me fall.

…

The morning sun, piercing my room like a blade, was excessively bright. I dressed slowly, each button of my blazer feeling heavier than the last. My reflection stared back, flawless hair, perfect lipstick, no trace of the wreck inside. I had to look strong even if I was breaking.

By the courthouse steps, the people were already waiting alongside the press. Cameras, microphones, and reporters rushed forwards, with eyes like knives.

“Miss Bruce! Do you feel confident today?”

“Any response to critics saying you’re unfit to take on Massimo?”

“Will your father’s campaign survive the trial?” I ignored them, forcing myself forward. |

“Miss Bruce!” An intern stumbled up, clutching something in her hands, a rose. The black petals fade into crimson. My stomach turned—another one this month.

I snatched it, stared for one second, and then tossed it straight into the trash bin.

The intern blinked. “But…”

“Never accept flowers again, unless you know who it was from.” I snapped, my voice as cold as ice, watching her shiver in fear.

My phone buzzed. I didn’t want to look, but my hand betrayed me.

Unknown number.

Allow Zeke to win, or your video goes everywhere.

I felt everything spinning, and my vision went blurry. The doors opened, and inside, my future was waiting. And then he appeared.

Zeke Massimo, cuffed and flanked by officers, but moving like the chains were jewelry. His suit was black and crisp, like he’d dressed for his own coronation. He walked past me, his eyes dragging over me slowly and deliberately. And then he winked, making my knees weak.

.

“All rise.”

The courtroom filled with the scrape of chairs and the heavy thud of the judge’s gavel. The jury sat, her notebooks ready.

I forced my breathing steady. This was the final day, my opportunity to prove myself, erase the mistakes of yesterday, and win back my father's approval.

I began with fire: witness after witness, sharp and clean cross-examinations, and sharp and clean objections to what the defendant’s attorney was saying. My words were steady, my voice carrying authority that silenced the gallery.

To the point that the jury leaned forward, and the judge nodded with a satisfied expression, unlike yesterday’s.

For a moment, I had them. For a moment, I believed I was winning, and then…

Buzz

My phone, hidden beneath my notes, rang; I shouldn’t look. I know I shouldn’t, but my hand trembled, flipping the paper just so I could see.

The photo of me against the cabinet. My skirt folded at my waist, Zeke’s hand between my thighs. My face tilted back, my lips parted, and my eyes closed in a moan.

The courtroom blurred, the jurors’ faces swam, I felt my throat close, and I couldn’t breathe properly. I stumbled over my next question, the words coming out wrong. The witness frowned; the defense seized on it, twisting it back.

“Counselor,” the judge warned, “proceed carefully.”

I nodded, but my hands shook. Across the room, Zeke lounged like a king, chains draped carelessly across his wrists. His eyes locked on mine, daring me, owning me.

I thought of my father, watching from home, and believing this was my redemption. I thought of Vivian and that smile that always falls on my lips when something bad happens to me.

And then I thought of that blinking red light. The video is spreading, and headlines are screaming my shame. My face plastered across every screen and paper.

The mayor’s daughter was caught with the criminal.

I couldn’t and will not let it happen. I faltered, on purpose. The question I asked was soft and leading—a gift to the defense. I saw realization spread across their table like wildfire; they pounced, tearing my witness apart, unraveling the net I’d built.

The jury shifted, her doubt thickening. And then I let it happen, because my reputation, my fragile, desperate reputation—mattered more than justice.

When the final judgement was made, the deliberation was short. “Not guilty.”

The words crashed like thunder; gasps tore through the gallery. Reporters erupted, scribbling, snapping photos of what had happened. The judge’s gavel barely silenced the chaos.

Zeke rose, his cuffs fell away, indicating him, a free man, which he wasn’t.

He turned, eyes locking with mine; his smirk was slow and lethal, and his lips moved, but not a sound came out.

‘Mine’

My chest cracked, and my father’s face flashed in my mind. Not pride, only disappointment so sharp on it; it cut me open. And yet I stood there, my body stiffened, as Zeke walked out of the courtroom a free man.

The world thought I’d lost a case. Only I know i’d sold my soul, and the worst part is this was just the beginning. I never trusted him as long as the video was still with him.