Chapter 3

After a standoff that lasted all night, not even a single sliver of daylight could penetrate the room sealed shut with black duct tape.

Mabel emerged from the bedroom with a glass of warm water. She had shed her biting demeanor from the night before, and her expression was so gentle, it was as if nothing had happened between them. "Have some water. You've been up all night; your voice is raspy."

She handed me the glass, took a seat beside me, and pulled out a freshly sharpened strip from her pocket. "I'm not done with your nails yet. Let me work on them for you."

With that, she reached for my hand, attempting to recreate the tender act from last night that she had used to disarm me last night.

My stomach churned, and I instantly caught her wrist. I didn't use much force, but she couldn't pull free.

"We need to talk, Mabel. Give up on the surrogacy in Gilead. Let's have a baby of our own.

"I can still give you 50 million dollars as a personal investment. All I ask is that you let go of your obsession with Mat and live a good life with me."

This was, of course, a lie. It was bait planted purely to test her.

Sure enough, she turned on a dime. She yanked her wrist back, her face twisted in disgust. "Do you even hear yourself, Hugh? My eggs and my body are reserved for Mat alone. You, on the other hand, will never deserve to have a child that shares my blood.

"Marriage is nothing more than a shield against gossip to me. Money is the only value you bring as a husband."

Every word she uttered chilled me to the core.

My phone, which I'd tossed on the couch, began vibrating uncontrollably as push notifications flooded the screen.

"Breaking News! National Star, Mabel Wright, Allegedly Suffers Domestic Violence! Wealthy Husband Hugh Moore's True Colors Exposed!"

"Insider Reveals: Hugh Moore Is a Control Freak; Prevents His Wife From Visiting Her Gravely Ill Friend!"

"The Ugly Face of a Nouveau Riche: Using Money to Trample an Artistic Soul!"

Anonymous accusations, screenshots stripped of context, and maliciously edited audio clips were all over the Internet.

I checked my social media inbox. It was packed with nothing but hate and vitriol.

"Drop dead already, you disgusting piece of trash!"

"Leave Mabel alone! You don't deserve her!"

"Capitalist lapdog, I hope you go bankrupt soon!"

I hadn't even had the chance to tell my side of the story, yet they'd already condemned me.

I looked up at Mabel, who met my gaze without the slightest hint of guilt, a smug smile curling at the corners of her lips. "That's right. I had Jasmine release them."

She sat back down on the couch, crossing her legs. "The public will only believe the perfect image of the nation's top celebrity. If you come forward and claim that I'm using your money to pay for a surrogate to carry my first love's child... Do you think anyone will believe you? They'll only think you're making up lies because you can't handle being humiliated!"

Then, she leaned forward. "Be a good boy and sign it, Hugh. If you do, we can still play the perfect married couple. Your reputation and your company will both be safe."

Right on cue, Jasmine's call came in. "Mr. Morore, I just received a call from the investors behind the commercial complex in the south of the city. They're paying close attention to the public opinion online. If you insist on playing hardball... They'll terminate the deal on the spot, citing reputational damage and a breach of their morality clause. The penalty for breach of contract would probably be more than 50 million dollars, wouldn't it?"

Mabel and Jasmine had my business Achilles' heel firmly in their grasp. Clutching my head, I tugged at my hair, pretending to be on the verge of a breakdown.

"Give me some time... Let me think about it..." My voice was trembling, but the moment I lowered my head, the screen of my encrypted phone silently lit up.

I'd received a classified message from my finance team. "The asset-separation measures are now in place. All channels for large-scale fund transfers have been completely locked down."

Slowly, my grip on my head loosened.