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The Art of Deception
Last Updated:
2025-10-06 04:36:47
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How To Love A Murderer. Gilded Cages and Whispered.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Gilded Cages and Whispered AlliancesIan blinked his eyes open, the soft morning light filtering through the penthouse windows. The first thing he saw was Zhedya, already propped up on an elbow, just… watching him. A sketchbook was open in his lap, a pencil still in his hand.“Creepy,” Ian mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. “How long have you been staring? And what are you drawing?”“Long enough to memorize every one of your eyelashes,” Zhedya said, his voice a soft caress. He turned the sketchbook around. It was a perfect, detailed drawing of Ian sleeping, his face peaceful and young. “Happy birthday, my love.”Ian’s heart did a little flip. Before he could say anything, Zhedya reached for a luxurious envelope on the nightstand. “I got you a small surprise. I submitted your blog for the ‘Best Crime Journalist of the Year’ award.” He pulled out the official-looking letter. “You’ve been nominated.”“Oh my god, Zhedya,” Ian breathed, his eyes wide as he took t
How To Love A Murderer. Roses and Wounds.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Roses and WoundsIan’s heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. He completely forgot about the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time as he raced towards Zhedya’s office. What if he’d collapsed? What if he was gone?He skidded around a corner and slammed right into a solid chest.“Oof…!”He looked up, and the air left his lungs. Zhedya stood there, flawless as ever, not a hair out of place. And in his hands was a bouquet of the deepest, reddest roses Ian had ever seen.Zhedya’s brow furrowed with genuine-looking concern. “Ian? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”“Zhedya!” Ian gasped, his voice shaky with relief and leftover panic. “What are you doing out of bed? I went to your room and you were just… gone! I thought something terrible happened!”A warm, charming smile spread across Zhedya’s face. “My love! I was just coming to find you.” He offered the roses. “I wanted to apologize for my… moment of weakness. I sent my secretary for t
How To Love A Murderer. The Blood Trails.
Chapter Thirty-One: The Blood Trails Ian slammed his finger against the penthouse button, his heart pounding a furious rhythm in his chest. The image of Zhedya with Louis burned behind his eyes, making his vision swim with jealous rage. The elevator doors closed, and it began its smooth ascent. Then, without warning, it jolted violently. A deafening groan echoed in the small space, and everything went pitch black. “What the hell?!” Ian yelled into the darkness, his anger instantly morphing into claustrophobic panic. He fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking as he turned on the flashlight. The beam cut through the dark, revealing the cold, metal walls of his prison. He fired off text after text to Zhedya. Where are you? The elevator just died. Are you with him? No response. Of course not. “Damn it!” he snarled, slamming his palm against the door. “He’s probably too busy with Louis to even check his phone.” The thought made him feel sick. After what felt like an eterni
How To Love A Murderer. The Love Bomb and The Knife.
Chapter Thirty: The Love Bomb and The Knife Ian flopped onto John’s couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He’d been back for a few hours, but the air in the apartment felt heavy. John had been watching him like a hawk. “Alright, spill it,” Ian said, breaking the silence. “You’ve been giving me that look since I walked in. What’s up?” John didn’t hesitate. He moved to sit right next to Ian, his face dead serious. “We need to talk. About Zhedya. Ian… I think he’s obsessed with you. No, I know he is.” Ian let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Obsessed? Come on, John. He’s controlling, I told you that. But obsessed? That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? You’ve met him, like, twice.” “I know what I saw,” John insisted, his voice low. “What’s with you suddenly defending him? You’re the one who said he was suffocating you!” “He came here today,” John blurted out, his frustration boiling over. “And I don’t know what his deal is, but he has this… this god complex. He kn
How To Love A Murderer. Flashbacks
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Flashbacks Ian stared into the mug like it held all the answers. The tea was too sweet. Everything felt wrong here, but at least it was a different kind of wrong. “The sugar’s too much, John. I only take two,” he said, placing the mug back on the coffee table with a soft clink. His stomach was in too many knots to drink it anyway. “Oh, my bad,” John shrugged, settling onto the couch beside him. “So, let me get this straight. You basically ran away from your billionaire boyfriend and his penthouse palace?” Ian managed a weak smile. “I didn’t run. I’m… taking a break. Zhedya is just… a lot. He’s too controlling, I think. I mean, I know he means well, but…” "Look, man, I get it,” John said, his tone turning serious. “The guy sounds intense. But... are you sure you're not exaggerating?” “He's a powerful CEO, and you're the journalist who almost got killed. Maybe he's just... pathologically worried about you?" Ian turned to him, and in the soft light of the apar
How To Love A Murderer. Cracks in the Foundation.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Cracks in the FoundationIan stared at the blinking cursor on his laptop screen. It was supposed to feel like freedom, being out of the penthouse, but his mind was just as trapped as his body had been. The words wouldn’t come. Nothing felt real anymore.“Ian.”The voice was soft, but it made him jump. His head snapped up to find Callista sliding into the chair opposite him. A cold dread, sharp and immediate, coiled in his stomach."Callista?" he asked, his voice too tight. "How did you know I was here?"She studied him, a small frown line appearing between her brows. "This is the third time I've found you here. It's your spot. We had a long talk here, just about a month ago. Don't you remember?"He searched his memory, scrambling through the fog. Nothing. A complete, blank wall where that memory should be. The emptiness was terrifying."No. I don't," he said, the fear making him defensive. "Why are you following me?"“Oh, you haven’t been here for a while now,
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