LOGINCLAYTON'S P.O.V
In my twenty-nine years on earth, I have never felt the primal need to kill someone. And I'm not talking about just a bullet to his head, the urge that gripped me this morning was so dark, so devilish, it whispered evil things into my ear, like how good it would feel if I ran Edgar over with my car, crushing his lazy bones. He was the cloud dimming my star—Yvonne, the darkness that shadowed her light. The folder in my hand felt heavier with each passing second. Edgar was in prison custody, Yvonne was with me in his building, probably confused as to why I had Edgar arrested. I opened the file again, my jaw clenched in anger each time I read it. An anger that was fueling my need to make Edgar pay. After I met with Thane some days ago, I began looking into Edgar Baxter, at first his reports were clean; too clean, it became suspicious, and as someone who used to be a tech geek, all it took was one search on the dark web for all his hideous secrets to come to light. Secrets that were enough to put him behind bars for the rest of his pathetic life. As the regional manager (a position he no longer occupies), Edgar had access to a large scale of the company finances, too large for his greed. I found bank accounts tucked away in secret places. More than a dozen wire transfers labeled with strange descriptions like ‘Consulting’ ‘Adjustment F*e,’ ‘Courtesy.’ and more nonsense. A little more digging showed me that they weren't fees of the company expenses; they were bribes, lots of them. Some from competitors. One from a mysterious person whose name had disappeared from every public record. Others were tied to fake charities and money laundering. Edgar had been stealing my money for years. And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I found the part that made my head hot with rage. Documents in an encrypted folder I broke into. It was a scanned copy of a voice recording transcript. A conversation between Edgar and the same mysterious man who identified as “R.” I had read the exchange so many times I knew every line by heart; I opened the folder again, a vein in my neck pulsing. ••• EDGAR: We need to take as much as I can now; the heir to the company will be returning in a few weeks. R: I know about him, I have things sorted out, but what about your wife? What happens to her when we leave Seattle? EDGAR: I still have the evidence on her father. I can make her do anything I want, and she'll obey. R: You mean she'll do anything WE want? I've had a fascination with your wife; once we leave Seattle, I'll make her do anything I want to. EDGAR: I can share. ••• Disgust and anger curled in my gut, tainting my vision with dots of red and black, like I said, I've never had the urge to kill someone, but Edgar? I'd do it with a fucking smirk on my face. I had waited; I'd been planning to expose him and save Yvonne from the terrible fate that awaited her in the hands of her worthless husband and this ‘R,’ but when I walked in on him raising his voice at her, it was like a blow to my gut. I lost it and called the cops. I leaned back into my leather chair, running my thumb over my jaw. Yvonne saved me years back, she was my star. I reached into my pocket and brushed the cold metal there, the one I'd kept for fourteen years, it was a reminder that there was beauty and love in the world, and I was going to show her that again. I placed the folder back in my cabinet and pushed it off my desk. It was time to pay Edgar a visit in prison ~~ The interview room smelled of cold steel that hadn't seen sunlight and stale air. Gray concrete walls were illuminated only by a dull light overhead. A long metal table sat at the center, bolted to the ground, with two chairs on opposite ends. I tapped my finger on the table, two officers ushered him in, and the movement of my finger stopped. Every muscle in my body locked tight as he sat across from me. “Mr Voss. What is this?” Edgar asked in a voice that showed something close to desperation. I didn't look at him, not yet; my finger resumed its rhythmic movement, and I could feel Edgar tense. “Mr. Voss, I do not understand why you called an arrest on me; if somebody is sabotaging my name, I assure you I have been…” “The evidence” I stated quietly without looking at him. Edgar quieted before speaking “What evidence?” That was how I met his eyes; he recoiled in his chair under my gaze. Being just freshly arrested, He still looked clean, save from his disheveled hair; I wondered what he'd look like in a month or ten years from now; the thought brought a sinister smile to my face. Edgar gulped, beads of sweat lined his forehead. I leaned forward, looking him dead in the eyes. “The evidence on Mr Young. What is it?” He opened his mouth but I stopped him with a hand held up “Do not even think about lying to me,” I warned. “I already know of how you've been stealing money from my company for years. You and R” Edgar's eyes widened to the size of saucers, his forehead wrinkled, and his fingers shook in disbelief and fear. “H..How did you know?” Edgar asked in a low, frightened voice. I almost laughed. “The evidence” I repeated. I hated repeating my words, but unfortunately, I didn't have the crayons to spell it out for Edgar that his life depended on this moment forward. His furrowed brow deepened, creating a ridge between his eyes “Is that what you're concerned about? The secret I have on Mr Young rather than the money I stole from you?” he asked with disbelief. I regarded Edgar silently as the pieces fell into place in his head. Edgar was smart enough to pick up on my intentions. The way I stormed in when he was embarrassing Yvonne. My defensiveness towards her, my interest in what Edgar held against her. “You’re interested in my wife?” He asked with a look of utter shock. I tilted my head to the side, not even bothering to hide the fact that I wanted someone's wife. It was wrong on all counts, but nothing had ever felt so right. “Yes,” I voiced. He drew his head back, his eyes flickering over me as if to check if I was still the same Clayton Voss. I stood up from the chair, having had enough of his presence. There was something I needed to do urgently, and he was wasting my time. I stared down at Edgar, his hands bound in a cuff, his tailored suit replaced with a faded orange jumpsuit “You’re going to spend every day of your life in jail for stealing from me.” I threatened him; the fear returned to his eyes, and his shoulders shook with his pathetic begging. “Please, Mr Voss, I'll do anything. Anything at all you want, I...I will save up to repay you, I'll work for you my entire life, just please….” I walked to a corner of the room, my back towards him. “Anything?” He hesitated before giving me an enthusiastic “Yes.” “Good. Because there's something I want that you have.” From where I stood, I could feel his hope blossom. I wanted to laugh. Edgar might not go to jail, but I'll make damm sure he wished he had. “Juts say it Mr Voss. Name it, and it is all yours.” The corner of my lips lifted; I could almost see it: Yvonne smiling again. “Yvonne,” I said. One word, one person. Everything. “I want Yvonne. I want your wife.”YVONNE'S P.O.VThe words were delivered so calmly that, for a second, I almost wished she had shouted instead. Everything inside of me stilled; even the massage therapist paused. A chill ran down my spine at how Lucinda had said those words, like she was stating a common fact instead of deliberately humiliating me in front of everyone.Maryrose's expression hardened. “Excuse me?”Lucinda merely shrugged, reaching for a glass of water by her side. “I'm only saying what everyone else is too polite to say.” Her eyes settled on me, urging me to fight her back. “Some people are very good at making themselves look innocent while getting exactly what they want.”Static filled my ears; my blood raced beneath my veins. That was it; I had had enough of her snarky, Incessant comments. “If you have something to say to me, Lucinda, say it directly.”Her smile only widened. “Oh, Yvonne.” She took a slow sip of her glass. “I think I've been perfectly direct.”Maryrose frowned deeply, just as angry
YVONNE'S P.O.VBy the time evening came, the chaos of the volleyball game had finally begun to feel like something that had happened hours ago rather than earlier that afternoon.But that didn't mean my heart had stopped pulling with guilt.The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the sky in soft shades of lavender and deepening blue, while tiny lights had begun to glow along the resort pathways. After everything that had happened- the volleyball game, Daisy being sent away, Clayton braiding my hair in front of the entire company, and then casually announcing that he wanted me to move into his suite- I desperately needed a breatherThankfully, tonight's itinerary offered exactly that; the women had their own private spa session. No sports. No volleyball nets. No men.Just several hours of massages, facials, manicures, pedicures, warm baths, scented oils, gossip, and enough relaxation to hopefully make me forget that my life has now become a dramatic television soap opera
CLAYTON’S P.O.VI saw it happen: one second, Yvonne's eyes were fixed on the ball, her arms already lifting in preparation to receive it.The next, her ponytail snapped loose, her hair spilling across her face in a dark curtain that completely blocked her visionI felt my heart jump into my throat when she placed the wrong foot in front of her, catching awkwardly in the sand, and her body tilted backward.I moved before I even realized I was moving, but Harrison was closer. He caught her around the waist just before she could tumble onto the sand, steadying her with both hands. Whoa, easy there”Yvonne placed a hand over her heaving chest, breathing hard. She looked around, her eyes settling on Daisy. “What was that for?!” Usually, Yvonne is never one to raise her voice to anyone; she's the sweetest, kindest person I have ever met, but for her to do so now meant she was hurting And that hurt me too. My jaw tightened as my eyes immediately went to Daisy. She was standing directly b
YVONNE'S P.OVFor the first few minutes, the competition was surprisingly chaotic.When I siad I wasn't so good at sports, I lied. I am absolutely terrible at this; whatever small confidence I had walked into the court with had absolutely no business being there “When you were reluctant to come this morning, I thought it was probably because you didn't like sports,” Maryrose panted beside me, her wild hair sticking to her face with sweat. “I didn't think you'd absolutely suck at it”.A burst of laughter erupted from me; I wiped my damp forehead with the back of my hand. “You're not any world-class champion yourself, you know?”Her grin was wide enough to split her face. “There is a clear difference between being bad and being hopeless” I faked a gasp. “Are you calling me hopeless?”“I'm calling you a danger to everyone on this court, Yvie. No offense”My shoulders shook with a small laugh. “That's a lot coming from the woman who nearly knocked Harrison's head off five minutes ago.”
YVONNE'S P.O.VOn today's itinerary, volleyball was scheduled for the early afternoon, and judging by the noise already drifting from the beach, it seemed everyone was far more excited about it than I was. Maryrose and I walked down the paved pathway together, our sandals tapping lightly against the warm stone as the ocean breeze carried the faint scent of salt and sunscreen toward us.Today, I traded my usual sundress for a pair of comfortable shorts and a simple tank top, my hair pulled into a high ponytail to keep it away from my face. From the corner of my eye, I could spot Lucinda and Daisy chatting animatedly about something; I quickly looked away, my stomach churning with bile“She is wrong about you,” I whispered to myself, again and again till I could force my heart to believe it. A hand touched mine; I flinched. “Are you okay, Yvie?" Maryrose's concerned voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced towards her, and she tilted her head, her red hair falling over her eyes
CLAYTON'S P.O.VAnthony was silent for so long that I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen to make sure the call hadn't dropped. It hadn't.His breathing was still there, faint and measured, but I knew him well enough to recognize the sound of a man desperately rearranging every piece of information in his head. When he finally spoke, his voice had lost the disbelief from moments ago and been replaced by something much more cautious. “Money isn't the only thing your father's clause considers, Clayton.”“I know,” I answered. “Handle Stephanie for the time being and let me worry about my father's will”“I will,” he agreed, “But you are aware that simply transferring wealth to Yvonne doesn't magically rewrite her family history.”“It doesn't have to rewrite anything.” I walked toward the glass doors leading to the terrace again, Small dots of stars appearing in the night sky. “It only has to change her circumstances enough that she satisfies the conditions of the







