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CHAPTER SEVEN- The trap

Author: Debra Wilde
last update Last Updated: 2026-01-02 03:15:44

|Ever|

A hallucination of Aida's high-pitched voice claws its way out of my subconscious.

"You chose your doom. I told you so."

A mocking laughter follows.

I shake my head, clearing it away as it echoes away into space.

Sighing, I ease into my bed. It's not a big deal. Might be about the few classes I missed this month.

I squeeze my eyes shut, parting my lips slightly before closing them. I can't be in much trouble than I already am anyway.

Shrugging,
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    |Ever|My heart races as I force a tight smile, walking away from the door to meet them.Thomas— my bastard boss, sitting across from my father on our fucking couch.It's supposed to be for family. For people I trust.Safe. Mine. Ours.I should have known he wouldn’t stop at my phone."I missed you at work today," Thomas' eyes bore into mine. He seems eerily calm— no, measured."You told me to take the day off," I tilt my head slightly as a quick, smug smile plays on my lips.The air between us feels crisp.And for a second, I catch a glimpse of anger in Thomas' eyes. "Ah," he nods, "it must have slipped my mind."My father chuckles. "Kids these days," he says fondly, shaking his head. "Always busy with one thing or the other."I force a laugh that feels like it tears something in my chest.But Thomas doesn't laugh. Instead, he studies the room. My eyes follow. His gaze drifts over the coffee table, a framed photo of me with braces in hig

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    |Ever|Sunbeams creep through the cracks of the heavy drapery, dots narrowing on my face.Groaning, I slap the pillow over my face. I've been up all night, the elevator scene replaying on a loop—his voice, my body betraying me.I grit my teeth, already exhausted at the thought of facing him again.The faster I give his maniac father what he wants, the quicker I separate myself from their madness. But how? Time is running out. A week. That's all he gave me. The doorbell rings.And I drag my body off the bed, rubbing my eyes. Before I get to the door, my father is already there.He opens it, and the middle-aged housekeeper saunters in, her eyes lighting up brightly as they land on Dad. They linger, shifting the room from cozy to electrifying.I clear my throat, and my father jumps slightly, whirling around in his wheelchair to look at me. "Morning, sweetpea," he calls, a tiny discomfiture seeping from his voice."Good Morning, Dad, " I smil

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    |Ever|For the umpteenth time, I cast a disgusted look around my office, then back to my desk.Oh! Things I ache to do to that bastard, Thomas! A devious smile curls on my lipsI try not to glance at the dusty towering cabinets of years-old files and cobwebs around me, but they aren't hard to miss. Sighing, I slide the stack of files to one side, open my laptop, and type hurriedly until a list of DIY videos about office decor pops up.If I need to survive working for Thomas, the least I can do is to make it worth my while. "How are you finding your new position as the executive personal assistant to the CEO?"A sharp female voice cuts through my thoughts, and I raise my head. "It's not that bad," I lie, a stiff smile playing on my lips.She nods, looking around for a second, until her eyes snap back on me."Oh, pardon my manners," she lets out a small laugh, "I'm Grace, Head of Media and Public Relations." Grace extends her hand, her smile s

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    |Thomas|My bodyguards cut through the crowd ahead of me, forcing a path through microphones and flashing cameras."Thomas! Is it true Ever Jones is inside?""Are the allegations true?""Is this a settlement meeting?"The questions blur together, and I ignore them as the revolving doors slide shut behind me, muffling the chaos.Ever Jones is here— without my knowledge or permission.The elevator ride up feels longer than it should. My fingers curl into my palm as one thought repeats itself, sharp and infuriating.He did this, my father—that old bastard!Once the doors open, I head straight for the conference room where my board members stand to acknowledge my presence, but I ignore them and sit.Can someone care to explain why the—"I stop myself, jaw tightening."—Why is Ever Jones in this building today without my knowledge?"The room is silent for half a second.Then Harrington—the man with the second-largest shares—clears his throat and speaks

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    |Ever|My body jolts against what seems to be a wall as pain shoots through my veins. "Send the signal," a hoarse voice commands, and my body tenses up, dragging me back into consciousness. I try to sit up, using my tied hands to feel my surroundings, and perk up my ears to hear any sudden movements. Where on Earth am I? Who are these people? Am I that hated enough around America to warrant this?Could these be the people who hurled the brick through my window? My ribs constrict around my heart, squeezing a pathetic groan from my throat.Dad will be worried sick if I don't get home sooner.Shit!My breath quakes.Wait... Dad! Did they go after him, too?My heart heats up against my chest as I wriggle my wrists between the knots around them, ignoring the burning sensation curling up my nerves. I need to get the fuck out of here."Sit still, or I'll do something to make you!"The hoarse voice seeps through the cloth over my head, fanning it

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