All Chapters of Beyond A Substitute: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The late morning sun filtered gently through the sheer drapes, casting golden patterns across the pristine marble floor of the main sitting room. The air was scented faintly with vanilla and orchids from the arrangement on the center table — all elegance, quiet, and tension.Carolina moved quietly, pushing a feather duster across the already immaculate surface of a glass side table. Her eyes weren’t on the dust; they were fixed on Beth.Beth was lounging across the cream-colored sectional sofa, legs tucked beneath her, tapping rapidly on her phone. Her freshly styled hair shimmered under the sunlight. She dressed in a pastel silk robe and an air of detached irritation.Carolina’s heart was thudding beneath her uniform. She had slipped the pouch with the hacking tool into the deep pocket of her apron. The tiny device rested there like a stone — heavy and pulsing with implication.All she needed was five minutes.Five minutes with that phone.She hadn’t stopped thinking about what was a

The sky outside Katherine’s Brooklyn apartment was an eerie shade of gray as if the world itself had paused to hold its breath. She stood by the window, arms folded tightly, staring blankly at the flickering taillights down below. Her mind had been racing for hours — Kingsley’s silence, Carolina’s failed attempts to retrieve Beth’s phone, the paranoia creeping in with every passing day. Something was wrong. Deeply, unmistakably wrong. Her phone rang. She snatched it up without checking the screen. “Carolina?” But it wasn’t Carolina’s voice that answered. It was shaky, timid — the voice of a woman she didn’t recognize. “Um… hi. Is this Katherine?” “Yes. Who’s this?” “This is Becky. I work at the Rowe residence… with Angela. I—I didn’t know who else to call. I saw your number on Angela’s emergency contact list.” Katherine’s stomach dropped. “What happened? Where’s Angela?” A pause. Then the words landed like gunshots. “She’s been arrested.” “What?” Katherine’s kn

Beth sat on the edge of the bed, sipping her margarita. The salt on the rim bit at her lip, but she barely noticed. This spot. This exact place—three months ago—was where she’d sat when the real Kingsley had barged in, furious and unraveling, to confront her. “What did you do to her, Beth?” He’d shouted, voice cracking with fury. She hadn’t answered. Not with words. Thomas had stepped from the shadows then, silent as a breath, and driven the syringe into Kingsley’s neck. “Wh… what the hell…?” Kingsley had whispered, staggering backward, his eyes wide with shock. His body crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud, limbs twitching, breath ragged. The last thing he saw before the darkness closed in was her—kneeling beside him, her manicured fingers brushing against his damp cheek. “You should’ve listened, darling,” she had whispered, sweet as poison. He blacked out. That night was slick with rain, the kind that misted up windows and blurred intentions. Manhattan had long

The one-bedroom apartment smelled faintly of lemon-scented cleaner and fast food. The walls were bare, the furniture minimal—a couch with mismatched cushions, a folding dining table in the corner, and a single lamp casting a pool of golden light over the cluttered coffee table. Outside, Manhattan continued to hum past the rain-streaked window, unaware of the secret war unfolding inside. Carolina sat cross-legged on the couch, her phone plugged into a power bank, eyes locked on the glowing screen. Katherine leaned over her shoulder, her body tense, her fingers gripping the edge of the cushion as though grounding herself. Julius, their sharply dressed lawyer, stood by the table with a legal pad in hand, his reading glasses perched low on his nose. “Okay,” Carolina muttered, scrolling. “It came in batches. The hacker broke into Beth’s private cloud. These aren’t just screenshots—these are full message threads. GPS logs. Emails. Audio notes.” Katherine inhaled sharply. “Play one.”

The living room hummed with quiet preparation. Devon was checking comms with the two ex-FBI agents, speaking in low, professional tones. Julius paced near the window, phone to his ear, murmuring last-minute legal contingencies. The duffel bags were zipped. The SUV was idling downstairs, its lights glowing like twin moons beneath the night sky. Katherine stood by the hallway mirror, adjusting her jacket—one of Devon’s spares, a little big on her, but she didn’t care. Her face looked drawn and pale beneath the dim apartment light, but her eyes burned with resolve. She didn’t hear Carolina approach until her voice broke through the quiet: “Katherine.” Katherine turned. Carolina stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over her hoodie. Her ankle bracelet peeked from beneath her sweatpants. Her curls were pulled back in a high bun, her expression guarded—but her eyes gave her away. They were full of worry. Katherine walked over, trying to smile but failing. “Hey.” Carolin