Chapter 6 - The Facade Crumbles
Downstairs, sitting in the plush leather interior of the idling matte-black Ferrari, Madison Reed was fuming.
Ten minutes had turned into twenty, and twenty had stretched into nearly an hour. The private jet waiting at Teterboro Airport was likely delayed, and the exclusive European resorts they were scheduled to visit were slipping away.
“What on earth is taking him so long in that dump?” Madison muttered to herself, tapping her manicured fingernails against the steering wheel.
She felt untouchable. For the past six months, she had been living a fairy tale. Walking down the streets of Manhattan on the arm of Ethan Blackwood—one of the most feared and wealthy men in the city—had elevated her social status beyond her wildest dreams. She had accepted his expensive gifts, played the role of his devoted, mysterious online girlfriend to perfection, and enjoyed every second of the luxurious lifestyle that had magically fallen into her lap.
True, she had stumbled upon Claire’s old laptop years ago, discovered the wealthy benefactor showering money on her pathetic next-door neighbor, and cleverly maneuvered herself into position when Claire vanished. But nobody asked questions when you had a Blackwood standing behind you.
The passenger door suddenly clicked open.
Madison flashed her brightest, most practiced smile, ready to offer a sweet complaint about the delay.
The smile died on her lips.
It wasn't Ethan who opened the door. It was one of Ethan’s massive, stone-faced bodyguards.
“Miss Reed,” the bodyguard said, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth. “Mr. Blackwood requires your presence upstairs. Immediately.”
Madison’s stomach dropped. A cold shiver crawled down her spine. “Upstairs? Why? We need to leave for the airport—”
“Now, Miss Reed.”
Realizing she had no choice under the heavy, intimidating gaze of the two guards flanking the car, Madison stepped out onto the pavement and marched back into the lobby, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
When she reached Claire’s apartment door, it was standing wide open.
Madison pushed past the threshold, a haughty expression plastered across her face, ready to demand answers. “Ethan, what is the meaning of this? We are going to miss—”
She stopped dead in her tracks.
Ethan was sitting calmly on a simple wooden chair near the kitchenette. Standing right beside him, looking healthier and more radiant than Madison had ever seen her, was Claire Vance.
And in Claire’s arms sat Mochi.
Madison’s face drained of all color. The blood rushed out of her cheeks, leaving her looking as pale as a ghost.
“C-Claire?” Madison stammered, taking an involuntary step backward. “You’re... you’re supposed to be—”
“Dead?” Claire finished for her, her voice calm, clear, and steady. She stepped forward, looking Madison dead in the eye. “Surprise, Madison. I beat the odds.”
Madison’s eyes darted frantically from Claire to Ethan. Ethan stood up slowly from his chair, towering over the room. His face was an impenetrable mask of absolute frost. He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer atmospheric pressure in the small apartment made the air feel heavy and unbreathable.
May you like
“Sit down, Madison,” Ethan said softly.
It wasn't a suggestion. Madison's knees trembled, and she collapsed ungracefully onto the edge of the sofa.
