Jennifer didn't step out of her apartment the next morning. Not for groceries, not for air. She sat curled on the couch with her knees hugged to her chest, eyes swollen, hair messy, waiting for the knock that never came.
Her phone lit up five times — Vincent Moretti — and each time she let it ring until the silence mocked her. She had made a promise to herself: stay away. He was dangerous, even if his smile tried to prove otherwise.
By evening, her TV betrayed her resolve. The screen lit up with a live panel: Vincent's face beside Tracy's. The anchors' voices carried poison. Billionaire divorce scandal takes new twist — mystery woman spotted by the pool.
Her blood ran cold. The blurred photo of her red dress, of the night she swore to forget, flashed across the screen. "Who is she?" one of the reporters teased, smirking at the camera. "And why does she look exactly like the woman Tracy claims ruined her marriage?"
Jennifer's stomach flipped. Her chest heaved as she muted the TV. She hadn't done anything. Nothing but eat a meal she couldn't even finish. But now the world painted her a homewrecker.
Her phone buzzed again. A message this time.
Vincent: Don't believe any of it.
Vincent: I'll fix this.
She dropped the phone like it burned. Fix it? He didn't understand. For women like her, scandal wasn't a headline — it was a death sentence.
The buzz came again, but this time it wasn't Vincent. A number she knew too well.
Grim Voss: You think you're clever? You think he'll protect you?
Grim Voss: Men like him build cages. I build graves.
Her knees buckled. She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. She might have dozed off, it was pitch black when I eyes opened again, just in time to hear a car door slam shut.
His tall figure hovered at the door, she could see him from the keyhole. She leaned against the door. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? The knocking persisted. She unlocked the door, the sweet smell of his cologne greeting her.
He buried his head and sighed loudly. "You were not picking your calls I was worried". His face said the same thing, his forehead was creased. But worry would not keep her safe "I might be a lot of things but I am not a homewrecker, that is not me" her voice threatened to break.
He stepped into her room, simple, neat and cozy. "You're not. But it's too late for regrets now." He turned to her. Her eyes widened, was he crazy? "I cannot believe you just said that" she held her head with both hands.
He held her arms to steady her and their eyes locked. "This is all to throw me off my game. They don't have anything so they want to poke around. Tracy is behind this, and I'm not going to let her win". His voice was reassuring but to her Tracy was less of threat compared to the real danger, Voss.
"But Grim…"
"Looking into that as well. But tonight you're coming with me, the slandering won't stop until I make them understand that you're with me." His voice was firm. Her eyes flashed she was not some property to be claimed. "I don't belong to you". She snapped.
"You don't". He walked to the door and opened it "but like I said tonight you're coming with me".
***
Tracy Donovan stepped graciously across the large airy hall, with a dress like she fell out of a fashion show. The emerald green gown hugged her curves, hips swayed deliberately as she walked. The hall greeted her with warm smiles, some stopping to whisper how sorry they were for her. She would nod and tell them "My intentions were pure. I didn't loose".
She stopped at Murphy's table. He was entertaining a guest. She beamed with warm smiles. "Tracy, you must remember Michael Salvatore". Murphy smiled softly.
"Of course, the brains behind Cosmec Universe. An honor sir" She smiled warmly offering him a shake.
"The honour is all mine Miss Donovan" Michael stood sharply, returning her smile as he shoke hands. His eyes hovered briefly at her cleavage.
"Michael just offered me some good news this evening". Murphy exchanged a knowing look with Tracy and they both laughed. "We look forward to working with you Mr Salvatore". She grinned widely.
"Expect my full cooperation Miss Donovan". He tapped his glass gently. They both sat down. A few men had come over to offer their pleasantries to Murphy and Tracy stole the time to fitget with her phone, she sent a text to a private number [Do it now].
The room fell quiet when District Attorney Marcus Lee stepped in, his reputation preceding him. He wasn't just another lawyer—he was the man who decided who stood trial, and everyone knew it. He walked casually and shoke hands with Murphy. The two men exchanged heartily laughter. Tracy warmed up, smile brightly as the DA turned to her.
"And this must be Miss Donovan. How the pictures fail to capture your true beauty" he planted a kiss on the back of her palm gently.
"A pleasure meeting you sir". She smiled. He turned to Murphy, his voice teasing "we should sue the Moretti's for trying to discard such beauty in a cruel way". Tracy's eyes shifted uneasily. Murphy placed his drink away and nodded "that I'd do Marcus".
As smiles flew across tables and wine cups clicked in cheers, the guests least expected a heated entrance. The cameras turned sharply to the tall glass doors, and a sudden hush swallowed the hall.
The man in the black tuxedo moved with calm authority, his presence slicing through the silence. And beside him—fragile, delicate, too pretty to be human—Jennifer stepped into the light.
Tracy's phone buzzed on the table. The message read: Done.
Her lips curled into the faintest smirk.
Jennifer's breath hitched as a hundred cameras flashed.