003: YOUR OFFER.

~~~ANNABETH.

The press conference was being broadcast live from the lobby of the Bentley Financial building downtown.

I stood outside the heavy glass entrance, clutching my coat around myself as a cold wind whipped through the courtyard. I had spent the last two days calling Julian, texting him, begging for just five minutes of his time to clear up the quiet rumors he was spreading behind closed doors. He had ignored every single call.

Now, seeing the throngs of reporters with flashing cameras entering the building, I knew I couldn't stay quiet anymore. I wasn't going to let him turn three years of my life into a lie. I needed him to say it to my face.

I pushed through the revolving doors, slipping past security in the chaos of the press gathering.

Julian was standing at the podium on the elevated stage, dressed in an immaculate charcoal tuxedo. Beside him stood Claira Montgomery, sparkling in a navy satin dress that probably cost more than my entire life's savings. Julian’s mother, Evelyn, sat in the front row, looking as cold and regal as ever.

"—and so, as we look toward the future merger of our families," Julian was saying smoothly into the bank of microphones, "I want to thank everyone who supported us."

"Julian!" I called out, taking a step toward the stage.

The low hum of the room cut out instantly. Dozens of cameras turned in my direction. Flashbulbs went off, blinding me for a fraction of a second.

Julian froze. His charming smile faltered for a microsecond before his expression flattened into pure, condescending disgust.

"Annabeth?" Julian said, his voice carrying clearly through the room’s speakers. He chuckled softly, shaking his head with faux pity. "What are you doing here?"

I pushed past a camera crew, my hands trembling inside my coat pockets. "I need to speak to you. You've been ignoring my calls for forty-eight hours. You're telling people I cheated on you? After what you tried to do at your party?"

A murmur ripples through the gathered press. Reporters immediately raised their recording devices higher.

"Annabeth, please," Julian interrupted, raising a hand in a theatrical plea for calm. "We talked about this. I know it's hard to accept that our relationship has run its course, but crashing my engagement announcement isn't the way to handle it."

"Relationship?" Claira stepped forward, sliding her manicured arm through Julian's. She looked at me from head to toe, her lips curling into a soft, cruel smile. "Darling, is this the ex-girlfriend you told me about? The one from college?"

"Yes, Claira," Julian said smoothly, resting his hand over hers. "I tried to break things off gently. I gave her money to help her move out. I thought she understood that we were from two completely different worlds."

My breath hitched. "You gave me money? Julian, you drugged my drink! You tried to frame me so you wouldn't look like the bad guy when you dumped me for an heiress!"

Gasps echoed across the room, followed immediately by the aggressive shuttering of camera lenses.

Julian’s face darkened, but he didn't lose his composure. He took two steps down from the stage, stepping into the space between us with his hands in his pockets.

"Look at you," Julian whispered softly, though his tone was laced with poison. "You're making a complete fool of yourself, Annabeth. Do you really think anyone in this room believes a girl from a dead-end neighborhood over a Bentley? You were a convenience from my old days. A sweet, quiet girl I kept around when I was bored. You were never good enough for my family, and you certainly aren't good enough to stand where Claira stands."

"You lying bastard," I choked out, tears of rage stinging my eyes. "Three years, Julian. I gave you three years!"

"And I paid for your apartment and your cheap clothes!" Julian snapped, raising his voice so the reporters could hear every word. "You're bitter because I chose a woman who actually brings value to my life. You're desperate, clingy, and you're making up disgusting lies about drugs because you can't accept that I moved on!"

"Julian, that's enough," Evelyn’s sharp voice cut through from the front row. She stood up, smoothing her skirt. "Security, please escort this young woman out. She is clearly unstable."

Two heavy-set guards in black suits immediately grabbed my arms, hauling me backward toward the exit.

"Julian!" I screamed, pulling against their grip. "Look at me and tell me the truth! Tell them what you did!"

Julian didn't even look back. He turned his back on me, wrapping his arm around Claira's waist as the reporters burst into a frenzy of questions.

"Get your hands off me!" I yelled at the guards as they shoved me out the heavy glass doors into the freezing rain outside.

I fell onto the slick pavement, my knees slamming against the concrete. The heavy doors clicked shut behind me, locking me out.

I sat there in the rain for what felt like an eternity, shivering, my eyes burning with tears I refused to let fall anymore. I felt entirely stripped bare and destroyed.

I managed to drag myself back to my apartment building, shivering violently as I trudged up the stairs. But when I reached the second floor, my heart stopped.

A large, yellow eviction notice was slapped across the center of my apartment door. A heavy silver padlock was clamped around the handle.

"What... what is this?" I breathed, reaching out with trembling fingers to pull the paper off the wood.

Notice of Immediate Lockout. The building manager had cited an emergency breach of lease, backed by a legal order filed by Bentley Financial's legal team claiming I was using the property under fraudulent terms.

My hands shook as I pulled out my phone to call my bank. I tapped my banking app, hoping to transfer whatever little savings I had left to find a hotel room for the night.

The screen flashed red: ACCOUNT FROZEN.

A message popped up beneath it: Your accounts have been temporarily suspended due to an ongoing civil suit filed by Bentley Legal Group.

They had taken everything. My money, my home, my reputation, my dignity. Julian had backed me into a dark, inescapable corner, leaving me with nothing but the clothes on my back and a cold city that considered me a bitter, lying gold-digger.

I dropped to my knees in the quiet, dingy hallway, pulling my coat tight around myself.

My hand reached into my coat pocket, my fingers brushing against the heavy, smooth cardstock I had shoved in there days ago.

I pulled it out.

The sleek black business card caught the dim light of the overhead bulb. Emblazoned in sharp, silver lettering was a single name:

ZAYDEN BENTLEY Chief Executive Officer | Bentley Global Group Direct Line…

Zayden. Julian’s older brother. The man whose father had owned the real empire. The man who had looked at me in my tiny studio apartment and offered me the only shield strong enough to tear Julian to pieces.

“When you realize that pride doesn't pay for hospital bills or protect you from wolves, call me.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the folded paper from the clinic.

Positive.

I wasn't just fighting for myself anymore. I was carrying a child. A child that Julian would treat like a threat, and a child that Zayden Bentley claimed as his own.

I stared at the black card for a long, quiet moment. My pride was gone. My fear was gone. All that remained was a burning, white-hot desire for justice. Julian thought he had won. 

My finger hovered over the numbers printed on the card.

I unlocked my phone, opened the keypad, and typed in the private direct line.

I pressed call.

The phone pressed against my cold ear, ringing once and by the second ring, the line clicked open. The background noise was completely silent, save for the low, steady sound of deep breathing.

"Annabeth," Zayden’s voice echoed through the speaker—deep, grave, and entirely unbothered, as if he had been sitting by the phone waiting for this exact second.

My throat tightened, but I didn't let my voice falter. I wiped the water from my face and swallowed every last shred of hesitation.

"I accept your offer," I whispered firmly into the receiver. "I need your help."