Felicity walked into the sprawling, ultra-luxury penthouse. She was dripping wet, leaving a trail of water on the imported marble floor.
At the far end of the room, sitting on a black leather sofa, was a man half-hidden in the shadows. He was rhythmically flipping a silver coin over his knuckles.
He leaned forward, the dim light catching his sharp, arrogant features. Brennan Potter. The most ruthless corporate raider on Wall Street. He looked her up and down, his eyes scanning her like a predator assessing a wounded animal.
"I need capital protection," Felicity said, her voice raspy but steady. "In exchange, I can give you the internal data for Mckinney's core merger acquisition."
Brennan let out a harsh, barking laugh. He caught the silver coin and slapped it onto the glass table. "I don't give a damn about his data. I want you to be the knife I drive straight into Ellsworth's heart."
Before Felicity could process his demand, her phone started vibrating violently in her pocket.
She pulled it out. It was a message from Gus, Ellsworth's head of security. It was a GPS screenshot. The location was the exact address of the nursing home where her adoptive mother was on life support. No text. Just a silent, lethal threat.
All the blood rushed from Felicity's head. Her vision blurred. Ellsworth knew she had run.
Brennan noticed the sheer terror paralyzing her features. He stood up, walked over to the bar, and poured a glass of neat whiskey. He pressed the cold crystal into her trembling hand.
"Drink," he ordered. "Then we play a game. You're going back into his line of sight tonight. You're going to create a scandal so massive it paralyzes him."
Brennan snapped his fingers. Two massive bodyguards stepped out from a side room. They placed a garment bag containing a stunning, provocative haute couture dress and a forged identity file on the table.
Felicity changed in the guest bathroom. She stared at her reflection. The woman looking back had dead eyes and a blood-red mouth. She walked back out and took the micro-wiretap Brennan held out to her, sliding it into her clutch.
The moment she stepped out of the armored building, tires screeched.
Two black SUVs swerved onto the curb. Ellsworth's bodyguards jumped out, grabbed her by the arms, and shoved her violently into the back seat. The doors locked instantly.
The SUV drove deep into Manhattan, pulling into the underground garage of a highly exclusive, illicit VIP club.
The guards dragged her through the neon-lit, smoke-filled corridors and shoved her into a private booth.
The room reeked of expensive cigars and spilled alcohol. Ellsworth sat in the center of the plush velvet booth. Next to him was Arthur Vance, a Wall Street executive notorious for his disgusting behavior toward women.
Ellsworth looked at Felicity. A flash of cruel satisfaction crossed his eyes. He turned to Arthur. "Here is my apology for the delay on the contract, Arthur. Enjoy."
Arthur's greedy, bloodshot eyes roamed over Felicity's exposed skin. He reached out a sweaty hand to stroke her cheek.
Felicity jerked her head away in disgust.
Arthur frowned, his ego bruised. Ellsworth's hand tightened around his whiskey glass until the crystal shattered in his grip. Blood dripped from his palm, but he didn't blink.
"If you fight him," Ellsworth said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "I will have your mother's ventilator unplugged tomorrow morning."
Felicity stared at the man she had loved. He was trading her body like a piece of meat.
She took a deep breath, forcing her lungs to expand. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a brilliant, sickeningly sweet smile. She walked straight to Arthur, picked up a glass of champagne, and handed it to him, masking the murderous rage boiling in her veins.
Ellsworth watched her sudden submission. A sharp, inexplicable pain pierced his chest. He suddenly felt suffocated. He ripped his tie loose, stood up abruptly, and walked out of the booth, leaving her alone with the monster.
The second the door clicked shut, Arthur lunged.
He grabbed the neckline of her dress, trying to rip it open. Felicity's hand shot out. She grabbed the metal ice pick from the bucket on the table and slammed the razor-sharp point directly against the pulsing artery on Arthur's neck.
Arthur froze, his hands shooting up in the air. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"If you touch me," Felicity whispered, pressing the steel deeper until a drop of blood appeared, "Brennan Potter will short your company into bankruptcy by noon tomorrow."
The name hit Arthur like a physical blow. The lust vanished from his eyes, replaced by sheer panic. He realized he was caught in the crossfire of two titans.
"What do you want?" Arthur choked out.
Felicity lowered the ice pick slightly. "Call your private doctor. I need a medical certificate forged right now. If you play along, Brennan will hand you the overseas telecom project."
Arthur weighed his life and his greed. He nodded frantically.
For the next hour, they intentionally knocked glasses over and made ambiguous noises to fool the bodyguards standing outside the door.
When the hour was up, Arthur walked out of the booth, his arm wrapped loosely around Felicity's waist. Her hair was intentionally messy, her lipstick smudged. Arthur laughed loudly, showing off his "conquest" to Ellsworth's guards before leading her to the underground garage.
In the dark corner of the garage, Arthur slipped a folded piece of paper into her open purse. It was a forged blood test report. Six weeks pregnant.
Felicity walked alone to the backup car Ellsworth had left for her. She intentionally left the zipper of her purse half-open. The crisp white edge of the hospital-headed paper stuck out clearly.
Gus, the driver, glanced in the rearview mirror. His trained eyes locked onto the medical logo. He immediately tapped his earpiece, reporting to his boss.
Felicity arrived at the temporary hotel room Ellsworth had booked for her. She locked the door, pulled the fake pregnancy report out, and tossed it right in the center of the nightstand. She sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the bomb to go off.
At 3:00 AM, the heavy wooden door of the hotel room was kicked open with explosive force.
Ellsworth stood in the doorway. His eyes were completely bloodshot, his chest heaving. He looked like a demon crawling straight out of hell.
