تسجيل الدخولSusan I sighed looking around the room, my new room, and it occurred to me that I could fit my entire home into this one room. “You’ve got guts, you know?” I shifted my gaze from the queen-sized bed to Mark who stood by the door. “Please leave my room,” I told him as politely as I could manage. Mark did the exact opposite. He walked into the room and closed the door behind me. Given the fact that he had paid someone to kidnap and hurt me, I knew I should feel fear, but I did not. Instead, I felt anticipation… Anticipation? I swallowed and shifted my gaze away from him. “You should enjoy your room while it lasts,” he said to me, taking slow steps towards where I stood, “because you’re going to be out quicker than you get a night’s rest here.” He was trying to intimidate me, but I had no intention of backing down. I took a step forward to close the space between us and looked him right in the eye. If he thought that his 6 ft 3 frame and steel grey eyes could evoke fear in me, h
Mark I was fuming as I paced about my office. I stopped when I got to the front of my publicist. “What the fuck?” I demanded hotly as I handed her my iPad, pointing to the comment section of the recently streamed interview Susan had just given, “Why is she fucking trending?” My head of public relations, Sam Daniels, looked white and petrified, as if he were standing in front of a ghost. “Cuban-Rivers? Seriously?” My tone was full of so much anger that a part of me felt like my publicist might actually be pissed himself, but this was not the time to care about that. “Have you nothing to say for yourself?” I asked, irritated by the deafening silence that followed my outburst. “Perhaps you can…” my publicist began to say but kept quiet midway. “Perhaps I can?” I stood in front of him, looking right into his eyes. I saw him swallow, hesitant to say what was on his mind. I took a step backwards to appear less intimidating, “If you don’t start talking I’m going to fire your ass.”
SusanI had never been on TV before today. When I walked into Prime Studios, I didn't know what to expect. First, I was led into a room that had several other personalities, some of which I had seen on TV so many times before. While I looked around at the organised chaos—makeup artists touching up the faces of those about to go on set, adjusting wardrobe, people memorising lines—it suddenly felt very overwhelming. I wanted to grab the door and exit the building. So I turned back but the glare my mother gave me was enough for me to find an empty chair. A makeup artist walked up to me with a smile and a brush. “You have great skin,” she said as she walked bent down to assess my face. “I’ll just touch you up a little…” “Actually, can you make her look bold and confident?” my mother requested, “I want her to look like a rich heiress.” The makeup artist shrugged, “I can do that too.” “I’m a bit thirsty…” I began to say. “I’ll get you water,” my mother said, leaving the room. I tur
Mark“You couldn’t get me out sooner?” I berated my lawyer as we walked out of the precinct together. “I’m sorry,” he replied, “I was shocked to see you arrested and all those reporters…” “So? You froze?” I was angry at him because I knew he could have handled the situation better but more so, I was angry with myself. I had allowed them to play me for a fool and put up with immeasurable disgrace.“I’m sorry but I did…” “Forget it, Peter,” I hissed, “the damage has been done. But we have to prove that I did not try to r*pe her. I must prove my innocence to the public.” “About that…” I stopped walking, and so did my lawyer. His face looked red, like an overripe tomato. “What is it this time?” I asked, already seething before he even said a word. “You may have bigger problems than the rape allegation,” he said in a small voice. I frowned, “Explain clearly so I understand.” “They… Susan’s credentials are already trending online,” he replied, “people are dubbing her the next JP Mo
Susan“Why? Why are they arresting him?” I asked, my body was still trembling from what had just happened. “Honey…” my mother’s tone was as if she didn't believe I would even ask that sort of question, “look what he just did to you.” I gazed into her eyes doubtfully, “You’ve done this to me several times, Mom. Locking me up when you…” Her eyes flashed with anger, “Don’t be stupid, Susan… Mark did this.” I looked my mother straight in the eyes and asked her, “Where’s the evidence?” My mother scoffed, “he just… the man who wanted to hurt you… He just confessed to Mark Cuban hiring him to hurt you and you're asking for evidence?” I looked around, but the hallway was empty—the man had likely made an escape already. But one thing made no sense to me. Why had the police not arrested him? If they were here because I had been kidnapped, why was the man not arrested alongside Mark Cuban? “He was not arrested,” I said quietly but my mother heard me clearly. “Who?” she asked me. “The ma
Mark “Pathetic losers,” I muttered under my breath as I walked away. For a brief second, I had believed Susan was actually in danger only to realise that mother and daughter had played me. “Mark Cuban?” I spun around to look at the cops who were behind me. I was annoyed and visibly irritated, and their presence was not helping. “You are under arrest for the attempted assault of Susan Rivers,” said the cop on my left. “What?” I scoffed. If this was a joke, it was not fucking funny! “Is this a joke… some sort of skit?” I asked them, “because if it is…” They brought out handcuffs and a cop went to my back and reached for my hands. My heart went cold. This was real. “You possibly cannot believe that tramp and her daughter,” I said to the cops as the cuffs clicked on my hands. The cold metal of the cuffs sent chills through my body. “Read him his fucking Miranda rights, Drew,” the cop that stood in front of me, staring bitterly at me said to the one who had cuffed me. I heard Dr







