COLLATERAL GIRL

It had been a week.

Seven days of silk sheets, shadowed stares, and silence that pressed against her skin like a bruise she couldn't name.

Riva hadn’t dared ask what she was to him now—because some part of her already knew.

She was his possession. His prized entertainment. His secret.

And for seven days, she endured him.

His presence.

His heat.

His rules.

But not his touch.

Not again.

After that night, Ares hadn’t laid a finger on her.

Not out of mercy. No, never mercy.

He was waiting.

Letting her simmer in her own confusion, making her wonder when the next storm would hit.

And it did.

Just not in the way she expected.

---

The magazine slid across the marble counter like a blade.

Riva froze mid-step.

The housekeeper had left it open—centerfold spread wide, bold and glossy.

"Moretti Tied to Rivarez Empire: Engagement Rumors Ignite the South Corridor."
Photo: Ares Moretti, tux-clad, flanked by Delilah Rivarez—model, heiress, socialite. His fiancée.

Riva stared at it like a wound.

The date printed in gold.

The photo from three nights ago.

He hadn’t been home that night.

She’d asked nothing.

He’d offered nothing.

And now she knew why.

Blood thundered in her ears. The floor shifted.

She snatched the magazine, stuffed it into her coat, and walked out of the mansion before anyone could stop her.

---

The air outside bit at her cheeks.

She didn’t go to her brother’s hospital right away.

She just walked.

Walked until the anger drowned out everything.

Until she reached the place she always ran to when logic gave up—her brother’s room.

The nurses smiled like everything was normal. The machines beeped in steady rhythm. Her brother still lay unconscious. Safe. Alive.

Paid for by blood money.

She kissed his forehead, whispered nothing she remembered, and turned to leave.

That’s when it happened.

---

The first flash was accidental.

A click.

Then another.

Then—

“Miss Sen!”

The voice was too eager. Too sharp.

A man stepped into her path, holding a phone in one hand, the other holding up the magazine.

Her stomach dropped.

“Can we get a statement?” he asked breathlessly. “About you and Mr. Moretti? Are you aware of the engagement announcement? Do you have anything to say about sleeping with an engaged man—”

“Get away from me,” she snapped, pushing past.

Another voice joined in. A second reporter. “Is it true he bought you at a private auction?”

“Did you know about his ties to the Rivarez family before or after—?”

“I SAID GET AWAY!”

She ran.

Through the glass doors, down the stairs.

She didn’t stop until the paparazzi lights faded behind her.

---

But the humiliation had just begun.

She wandered for an hour before her fury hardened into something colder.

Resolve.

She marched back to the mansion.

Straight into Ares’s office.

He was sitting behind the desk, shirt half-buttoned, glass in hand like nothing in the world could touch him.

She threw the magazine at his face.

It hit the desk instead.

“I’m not asking if it’s true,” she said, voice shaking. “Because I know it is.”

He didn’t flinch. “I was wondering when you’d see that.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“You’re not my wife, Riva. You’re not even my girlfriend.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did.”

Her palm landed across his cheek before she could think.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was dangerous.

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t even raise a hand.

He just said, “Do that again, and I’ll put you on your knees.”

She stepped back. “I’m leaving.”

“No, you're not.”

“I wasn't asking.”

“You’re still under contract.”

“It was for one night.”

“And you’re still here,” he said, voice flat. “Still sleeping in my bed. Still moaning my name when you think I’m not listening.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you’re just learning what it feels like to be the collateral girl.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He stood.

Crossed the desk.

Pressed her back against the wall with nothing but his presence.

“You’re not the prize, Riva. You were never meant to be. You were the cost.”

Her breath caught.

“I was supposed to marry Delilah. Still am. For alliances. For empire.”

“And me?”

“You?” He smiled coldly. “You’re the one thing I didn’t plan for. And the only thing I refuse to let go of.”

She shoved him back. “I’m done.”

And this time—he didn’t stop her.

He just said, “Don’t get followed.”

She didn’t understand what he meant.

Until later.

---

The walk back to the hospital was darker this time.

She didn’t notice the two men trailing behind her.

Not until they whistled.

Then laughed.

Then started following closer.

“Nice legs, sweetheart.”

“Moretti’s girl, huh? Thought he liked his women with more class.”

She kept walking.

Faster.

“You deaf?”

One of them grabbed her wrist.

She yanked away. “Touch me again and I’ll scream—”

He laughed. “Do it. Let’s see how fast anyone comes.”

And then—

Everything went still.

Because a long shadow moved from the edge of the alley.

A man in black. Calm. Cold.

Ares Moretti.

No words.

No warning.

Just a quiet hand lifting the gun from his coat.

She blinked.

The goon didn’t.

He laughed. “Oh, look who’s here—”

BANG.

The bullet tore through the man’s shoulder. Not a clean shot. Deliberately messy.

The scream echoed through the street.

The second guy tried to run.

Two of Ares’s guards stepped out of the shadows, grabbed him, and slammed him into the wall.

Silence fell.

Riva stood frozen. Heart pounding.

Ares lowered the gun.

Walked up to her.

“Two things,” he said, voice lethal. “One—you don’t walk alone.”

“And two?” she whispered.

“If anyone looks at you like you’re nothing again…”

He leaned close.

“I’ll show them what it really costs to touch what’s mine.”