Angela stretched her arms above her head with a slow, deliberate yawn, her back arching just enough that the fabric of her blouse tightened across her chest. The movement was casual, almost lazy, but the effect was anything but—her body shifted in a way that made it impossible to look away.

For a split second, I found myself distracted, my gaze flickering before I forced it back to her face. She noticed. Of course she did. A smirk played at the corner of her lips, as if she found my reaction amusing.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "I'm not a bad person." She let the words hang in the air, her tone shifting to something colder, more calculating. "I won't do anything to harm you... as long as you get the job done."

I nodded slowly, my mind racing. There was always a catch with Angela. Always a layer beneath the surface.

She leaned forward slightly, her expression turning serious. "Tomorrow morning, you'll go out with Tom, as usual. The mission I approved." Her eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable.

"But you have to kill Tom. Make sure no one else knows about this. Then you search for my daughter and bring her here." She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And I'll take care of the rest."

I studied her, my instincts screaming that there was more to this than she was letting on. "I got it," I said, keeping my voice steady. But as I looked at her—the way her fingers tapped restlessly against the armrest, the flicker of something almost like fear in her eyes—I couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something bigger.

If Angela didn't want anyone to know about her daughter, if she was going to such lengths to keep this secret, it meant one thing: she wasn't the one in charge. There were people above her, people she was afraid of.

And if that was true, then what was stopping her from silencing me the second I brought her daughter back? What was stopping her from making sure I never left this fortress alive?

I kept my face carefully neutral, but my mind was racing—calculating, strategizing. Angela might think she had me cornered, but she'd underestimated me. If she wanted a pawn, she'd picked the wrong man.

"Good," she said, her voice smooth, as if she could see the gears turning in my head. "Then we're clear."

I studied her, realizing something that sent a thrill through me: this woman was sharper, more ruthless than I'd given her credit for. With her on my side, I wouldn't need to lift a finger. She'd handle everything—power, influence, even the dirty work. All I'd have to do is enjoy the spoils. The thought of her beneath me, her intelligence and her body both at my command, was intoxicating.

But there was something else—something darker. A hidden story about her daughter, a secret so heavy it seemed to weigh on her every breath. What was she really hiding? And why was she so desperate to keep it buried?

Before I could dig deeper, the distant roar of engines shattered the silence. Angela's head snapped toward the door, her expression tightening with something like dread. "You stay here," she hissed, her voice low and urgent. "Don't come out unless I call for you."

She slipped out, leaving me in the shadows. I watched through the crack in the door as she stepped outside, her posture rigid, her face a mask of forced composure. I sneaked toward the door to see what was happening outside.

A convoy of black SUVs rolled to a stop in front of the villa, and a middle-aged man stepped out, surrounded by four hulking bodyguards. His gaze swept over the property before landing on Angela—and then on me, still half-hidden in the doorway.

His lips twisted into a sneer. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with venom. "What do we have here, Angela? Did you finally get tired of playing hard to get?" He stepped closer, his bodyguards fanning out behind him like a wall of muscle. "Or did you just find yourself a new pet to irritate me?"

Angela's voice was steady, but I saw the way her fingers clenched at her sides. "Tyler, this isn't what it looks like. Mike is just a bodyguard—"

"Shut your lying mouth, you stupid bitch," Tyler snarled, cutting her off. He took another step forward, his eyes raking over her with disgust.

"I've been patient with you, Angela. Months of asking you out, months of you playing your little games, acting like you're too good for me." His voice rose, sharp and cruel. "And now I find out you've been hiding some pretty boy in your house like a common slut? After all my generosity? After everything I've given you?"

Angela's face paled, but her eyes flashed with defiance. "Tyler, you're overreacting. Mike is nothing to me—"

"Overreacting?" Tyler let out a bitter laugh, his hand shooting out to grab her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You think I don't know what you are, Angela? You're nothing but a spoiled little whore who thinks she's too smart for her own good." He tightened his grip, his fingers digging into her skin.

"You've been walking around this place like you own it, as these people respect you for you. But we both know the truth, don't we?" He leaned in, his breath hot against her face.

"They call you 'Doctor' because they know I like you. They bow to you because I let them. And this?" He gestured wildly at the villa, his voice rising to a shout. "This is my house. My property. My rules. And that includes you."

Angela jerked her face away from his grip, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "You're delusional, Tyler. This has nothing to do with you—"

"Delusional?" Tyler's laughter was sharp, mocking. "Oh, I'm not the delusional one here, bitch. You're the one who thinks she can play games with me." He turned slightly, his gaze locking onto me with a predatory glint.

"And this piece of trash you've got hiding inside? He's going to learn his place, too." He looked back at Angela, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You're going to watch while I teach him exactly what happens to men who think they can touch what's mine."

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