Olivia

Bingo.

Of course, he took my bait. Typical Philip.

Forcing a confused look on my face, more tears stream down my cheeks, my lips trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind.

“W-why can’t I get divorced, Philip?” My voice comes out small, desperate. I clutch at his hands like a woman drowning, every bit the lovesick fool I used to be.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be without you for a single second!” My voice cracks, and I sniff, letting my shoulders tremble just enough to sell the act.

Philip exhales as if he’s been carrying the weight of the world. “I know, babe, I know,” he murmurs after a moment, lifting my fingers to his lips.

I fight the urge to wrench my hand away and scrub it against the sheets. God, how did I ever fall for this? His breath is warm against my skin, but all it does is send a sickening chill down my spine.

His head dips, like he’s ashamed, and I almost roll my eyes. Oh please, Cue he guilty act.

“I’m not worthy of you, Liv. I can’t stand to claim you openly with my status now.”

I swallow back the bile crawling up my throat. Lies. Lies. Lies. Every word of his is a script, rehearsed and perfected.

“I don’t care about that!” I yell, throwing my hands up for dramatic effect. “I want you! Not a name or status! I can’t stand Sebastian anymore, please!”

His jaw tightens. The flash of irritation in his eyes is so brief, most people would miss it. But not me. Not anymore.

Still, he continues the charade. “But I want to give you the best life,” he coaxes, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “And that can only happen if you stay married to him, okay?”

Yeah, right. His real reason is crystal clear. He wants everything Sebastian owns—and I was supposed to be his golden ticket in.

“Please tell me you’ll stay married to him, please, Liv.”

I blink at him, like a dumb, adoring fool, then smile. “Okay.”

He exhales in relief. Idiot.

“I’m willing to do anything for you. Anything at all.” I add softly, leaning in as if I’m entranced by him.

His grin stretches, like a wolf who just caught the world’s dumbest rabbit.

“You know,” he starts, voice dropping conspiratorially, “there’s only one way we can be together as soon as possible.”

I tilt my head, feigning curiosity. “What’s that?” My face is the perfect mask of innocence.

He leans closer. “I’m working on a new deal for the Hamilton project. You know, the one worth billions of dollars.”

I widen my eyes, pretending to be impressed. Inside, my stomach turns.

“Wow. Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he confirms, nodding eagerly. “But I need you to find out Sebastian’s bid for that project. He’s aiming for it too, and I need to get it before he does.”

Ah. So this is where he was going with this.

My brows furrow. “B-but how do I do that? Isn’t it… illegal?” I ask hesitantly, as if I’m truly struggling with the idea.

Philip grins, slow and smug. “You’re his wife. It won’t matter if you go through a few of his files. This is the only way I can solidify myself in the company. Don’t you want to be with me anymore?”

And there it is. The guilt trip. The manipulation. The art of flipping things around, making me seem like the villain for hesitating.

“I do!” I yell, gripping his hands. “You know I want to be with you more than anything in the world.”

“Then say yes.” He’s relentless, like a devil whispering in my ear.

I hesitate—just long enough for effect. “…I don’t know if I should…”

His fingers tighten around mine. “Take this as a way to get back at him,” he urges, voice dropping into something dark, something venomous. “For everything he’s done. For how he separated us. Let this be our revenge, babe.”

I blink, then let my expression light up like he just struck gold.

Philip grins.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

“I’ll do it.”

The second the words leave my mouth, he lunges forward, crushing me into another one of his suffocating embraces. His arms are too tight, squeezing the breath from my lungs, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from shoving him off.

“Thank you, thank you,” he breathes into my hair.

I smile sweetly, nodding—because if I open my mouth, I’m not sure I won’t tell him to go fuck himself.

“I have to go now,” he says, pulling away. “I have an important… uh, client to meet. But I’ll come see you again, okay, babe?”

“Okay.”

That’s all I say, and he’s already bolting out the door.

The second he’s gone, I scoff, resisting the overwhelming urge to scrub myself clean. My skin crawls where he touched me, and my stomach churns with disgust. But there are more important things to take care of.

Reaching for my phone, I scroll through my contacts, my smirk widening the second I find the name I’m looking for.

I press the dial button.

The line barely rings before a voice answers, hesitant. “Young miss…?”

There’s surprise there—wariness, even. Like he never expected to hear from me again.

I don’t bother with pleasantries. “I need your help.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Anything.”

I lean back against the pillows, my lips curling into a slow, satisfied smirk.

“Phillip Morris. Kaylee Kingsley. I want them under 24-hour surveillance. Every move they make—every breath they take—I want to know.”

Another beat of silence.

“Yes, young miss. Consider it done.”

Good.

Let the games begin.