Chapter 25
The room was quiet enough to hear the night breathing.
A lone woman stood before the wide window, the moonlight turning the silk of her dress to silver. She did not move, only let her gaze drift over the garden where pale blossoms trembled in the evening air.
She waited—patient, still, like a predator biding its time.
The soft trill of a phone broke the silence.
An unmarked number flashed on the screen. Without hesitation she answered, her voice a whisper of cool composure.
"Have you erased every trace—every transaction, every conversation between me and the deceased?" Her tone was velvet over steel.
"Yes, madame," came the reply, respectful and certain.
"Good. There must be no evidence leading to me. If anyone we hired is caught and tries to talk…cut out the tongue. If anyone attempts to write my name, cut off the hand. There can be no flaw, no mistake."
Each word fell like a quiet blade.
"I understand," the voice said.
"Our first plan failed. We move to plan two—but not yet. Wait until their guards fall. A grand event is coming, and I'll use that moment to ruin Hazel completely. This time, make no error. Kill her."
The man on the line hesitated only long enough to breathe. "And Boss Val? He's dangerous. Sharp. He notices everything."
Her eyes narrowed. "Take care of him. A single miscalculation and he'll uncover everything. Do not leave a single thread for him to pull."
"Yes, madame."
The call ended. She lowered the phone and turned from the window to the small table beside her. Photographs lay scattered there—every image a different angle of Val.
One captured his severe profile at a board meeting. Another showed him leaving a car, sharp suit flawless. Months, years of quiet observation collected like treasure.
She lifted the framed portrait, fingers tracing his outline as though the glass held warmth. Her eyes softened—glinting with a heady mix of desire and obsession.
"He will be the death of me," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the glass and hugging it to her chest.
"A man like this…perfect. An enigma. A defective alpha. We are inevitable." Her smile was both tender and fevered.
Then her gaze drifted to the wall where Hazel's photograph was pinned. The sweetness drained from her face, replaced by a fury so cold it burned.
Still clutching Val's frame, she reached for a knife. The blade gleamed as she strode to the wall and drove the point through Hazel's image with a sharp, decisive crack.
"I'm the only one meant for him," she hissed. "Not some pretty little intruder. You dare stand between us? I'll kill you—even if it costs me everything."
---
On the other side of town, Hazel sneezed three times in quick succession.
"Someone must be cursing me," she muttered, rubbing her nose as Mrs. Paula patted her back with mild concern.
"Here," Mrs. Paula said, pressing a small packet of pills into Hazel's palm. "Take these to Val. He needs them once every month, but he's forgotten again. You're his wife now, so this is your responsibility."
Hazel frowned at the unfamiliar label. "What kind of medicine is this?"
"Ask him yourself. He'll explain." Mrs. Paula's answer was light, almost dismissive. She turned and stepped into her waiting car.
Through the tinted window she lingered, eyes fixed on Hazel with an expression Hazel couldn't see—a glint of something unspoken, unreadable.
"Madam," the driver ventured, catching her reflection in the rearview mirror, "what if Sir Val—"
"Shhh." Mrs. Paula cut him off sharply. "You talk too much."
She leaned back, gaze still on the fading outline of the house. "Whatever will be, will be," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
---
Hazel remained in the driveway, the packet of pills cool in her hand. Val had left at dawn, and she'd slept through the morning.
With a small sigh she turned on her heel and padded back inside, the hem of her nightdress brushing the floor.
After a long shower, warm water washing away the last threads of sleep, she pulled on a casual but elegant gown—a soft fabric that skimmed her figure without trying too hard.
Her hair she twisted into a messy bun, the kind that looked effortlessly pretty. Purse in hand, she tucked in her phone, a few girlish essentials, and the brown car key she'd chosen from the stack by the door.
Locking up, she stepped into the sunlight and pressed the key fob, unsure which car would answer. A sleek Maybach GLS beeped from the far end of the drive.
Hazel's lips curved with an unexpected thrill as she walked toward it, running her fingers across the smooth metallic finish before sliding into the plush seat.
The engine's deep roar vibrated through her chest, stirring a faint echo of the tomboyish freedom she'd loved in her previous life.
"Not bad," she murmured with a grin, easing the car onto the road.
Her plan was simple: drive to Val's main company office—not the casino or the hidden underground empire. If he wasn't there, she'd head home. No big deal.
Soon she was descending into the building's vast underground parking, the scale of the place making her whistle softly.
"I bet he has branches across half the world," she thought, cutting the engine.
Drawing a deep breath, Hazel stepped out and faced the towering entrance.
"Let's get this over with," she whispered to herself, unaware of the unseen eyes and quiet schemes already circling her life.