Chapter 8

The roar of engines faded into the distance. I sat amidst the chaos of my living room, a queen on a throne of debris. My home, my sanctuary, was violated, torn apart for a lie.

I felt a strange sense of detachment. The pain was still there, a deep, resonant ache, but it was being overshadowed by a cold, clear purpose.

An hour later, they returned. Alaric was theatrically distraught.

"I'm so sorry, Azalea," he said, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "I lost. I tried my best, but he's just... too good."

I looked at him and saw the lie in his eyes.

Alexander strode in behind him, a triumphant smirk on his face. Isolde clung to his arm.

"As per our agreement," Alexander announced, "I get to search the place."

His men resumed their work, but with more purpose now. They knew what they were looking for. One of them "found" the missing necklace tucked under a sofa cushion.

"Here it is, Mr. Booth," the man said, holding it up for all to see.

Isolde gasped, a perfect performance of relief and hurt. "Oh, Azalea... how could you?"

Alexander took the necklace and fastened it around her neck. "There," he said, kissing her forehead. "It's where it belongs."

They left then, their victory complete. Alaric, Darrius, and Jefferey stayed behind, offering their pathetic apologies and empty comfort.

"We'll help you clean up," Darrius offered.

"I'll buy you all new things," Jefferey added.

I stood up. "Get out," I said.

This time, they didn't argue.

I didn't stay in the penthouse. I couldn't. It was tainted by their presence, by the memory of my humiliation. I called my assistant and had her find me a new place, a sterile, anonymous apartment downtown.

I spent the next few days in solitude, healing, planning. And waiting.

I was waiting for Darrian Golden to come home. My mother had confirmed he would be back in time for my birthday party, the night I was meant to officially announce my fiancé.

The day of the party, I went out. I needed a dress. A suit of armor.

I walked into the most exclusive boutique on Fifth Avenue. As I was browsing the racks, the door opened, and she walked in.

Isolde.

Of course. It was as if fate, or Alexander's twisted sense of humor, kept throwing us together.

We saw it at the same time. A breathtaking gown of midnight blue silk, simple, elegant, and impossibly expensive. It was the only one of its kind.

We both reached for it. Our hands brushed.

I pulled back as if I'd been burned.

"I'll take this one," I told the sales clerk, my voice firm.

The clerk, who knew me and the power of the Kidd family name, smiled obsequiously. "Of course, Ms. Kidd. An excellent choice."

She turned to Isolde, her expression dismissive. "I'm sorry, this is a one-of-a-kind piece."

Isolde's face flushed with anger and humiliation. She pulled out her phone and walked away, her voice a furious whisper. She was calling her master.

I knew what was coming. I paid for the dress and tried to leave, but it was too late. As I stepped out of the boutique, Alexander's car pulled up. He didn't use force. He didn't need to. He simply stood before me on the sidewalk, a cruel smile on his face.

He held up his phone. On the screen was a live video feed, grainy but unmistakable. It was a camera, hidden in the ceiling of my new apartment's bedroom, pointed directly at my bed.

"You've been a very bad girl, Azalea," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Disobedient. Sneaky. I wonder what the world would think if they saw the great Azalea Kidd in her most private, unguarded moments. It would be a shame if this feed were to be... leaked."

The humiliation was absolute. It was a violation far deeper than any physical blow, a stripping away of my safety, my dignity, my identity.

He gestured to the dress bag in my hand. "I think that will look much better on Isolde," he said. "Looking for this?" He held it up. "You wanted to defy me. You wanted to choose Darrian Golden. This is what happens to people who defy me."

He leaned in close, his voice a low growl. "You will go to that party tonight. You will wear something appropriate. You will smile. And you will choose me. Or the entire world will see you like no one ever should. Do you understand?"

He turned and left, taking my dress with him, leaving me on the crowded sidewalk, feeling more exposed than if I'd been naked. He left me to my shame and despair.

He thought he had me trapped. He didn't realize he had just handed me the key to his own destruction. A hidden camera can see more than one thing.