Chapter 17
A week had passed since Leticia’s public humiliation, and Benjamin had spiraled.
I felt him before I saw him. His presence lingered like a shadow, like a sickness that refused to fade. He was always near–watching, waiting, obsessed. I never answered his calls, never acknowledged his existence.
I let him drown in the silence, in his own madness. And yet, he still followed me. Tonight, he crossed the line.
The moment the elevator doors slid shut, I knew he was behind me. His cologne–dark, rich, suffocating–clung to the air.
I didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge him. I simply stared at the blinking numbers above, waiting for my floor.
Then–a sharp thud. Benjamin slammed his hand against the wall beside me, trapping me between his body and the steel.
My lips curled into a smirk. “Stalking me now, Benjamin?”
His breathing was uneven, his hands clenched into fists. He was unraveling.
“You’re really her,” he muttered. His voice was low, rough, like gravel scraping against pavement.
I raised a brow. “Her who?”
His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring. “Nevaeh.”
I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “Benjamin, darling, you sound insane.”
His hand shot out, gripping my wrist–not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make his point. “Say it,” he growled. “Tell me you’re Nevaeh.”
I met his gaze, calm and composed, watching the storm rage in his eyes. Then, I leaned in -so close our lips almost brushed. I could feel his breath, hear the way his heart pounded in his chest. He wanted me to deny it. He wanted me to give him an escape, a way to justify his obsession. Instead, I gave him the truth.
“Yes, Benjamin,” I whispered, my lips curling against his ear. “I am Nevaeh.” His body stiffened. “And I know you and Leticia killed my family.”
A rare sight–Willoughby in fear.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open. I slipped past him, my heels clicking against the marble floor. I didn’t look back. He wasn’t worth it.
***
Days passed. Silence followed. Then, chaos. Benjamin’s company–his empire, his pride, his lifeline–wasn’t his anymore. It had taken months of careful planning, months of silent moves, but I did it. Every investment I made, every strategic partnership I formed, every backroom deal I secured–all of it led to this.
Betrayal Wears My Crown
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packroom deal i secured–an or trea to this.
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The morning it happened, I was drinking coffee in my office when Donovan walked in, throwing a thick folder onto my desk.
“You’re a fucking menace,” he muttered, dropping into the chair across from me.
I flipped open the folder, scanning the financial reports. “That’s a compliment, right?”
Donovan scoffed. “Benjamin lost his shit this morning. Called an emergency board meeting only to find out he doesn’t own a goddamn thing anymore.”
I sipped my coffee, satisfaction blooming in my chest. “And let me guess–he still thinks he can fix it?”
“Oh, he tried. Until his own lawyers told him the contracts were airtight.”
I smiled. “Perfect.”
And by noon, I was seated behind my new desk–Benjamin’s old desk. The scent of his cigars was still faintly woven into the mahogany, but soon, even that would be erased.
I was reviewing paperwork when the doors burst open. Benjamin stormed in, his face twisted in pure rage. He looked unhinged–tie loosened, shirt wrinkled, eyes dark with exhaustion.
“You took everything from me!” he growled, slamming his hands against my desk.
I leaned back, completely unfazed, and gave him a slow, amused smile. “No, Benjamin. You handed it to me.”
His breathing was ragged. “You think this is fucking over?”
I stood up, walking around the desk to stand in front of him. “Oh, darling,” I murmured, tilting my head. “It was over the moment you put your hands on me years ago. You just didn’t know it yet.”
His hand twitched, as if fighting the urge to strangle me. I almost wished he would try.
“I should have fucking killed you that night,” he hissed.
I reached forward, adjusting his tie with mock affection. “Then why didn’t you?” | whispered.
His jaw clenched. His body trembled with barely restrained fury. I had never seen him so powerless. And he hated it.
“You’ll fucking regret this,” he spat.
I chuckled, patting his chest like he was nothing more than an unruly child. “No, Benjamin. You will.”
He stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. I exhaled, a slow, victorious breath. Checkmate, motherfucker.
Benjamin Willoughby was a man built on power, control, and ego. I had stripped him of all three. His empire? Gone. His influence? Crumbling. His pride? Nonexistent. And now, with nothing left to lose, he was unraveling.
Chapter 17
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with nothing left to lose, he was unraveling.
I knew he was watching me.
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Even without seeing him, I could feel it. The weight of his obsession pressed against my skin like a phantom touch, a reminder of the monster I had once been forced to love.
The phone calls never stopped. The texts became unreadable strings of desperation and
rage.
“Valeria, pick up the fucking phone.”
“I know what you’re doing.”
“You can’t run from me.”
“We need to talk. Now.”
“I loved you. I still do. Why are you doing this?”
“ANSWER ME, NEVAEH.”
Pathetic. I never responded. Instead, I let him drown in his own madness, suffocating in the silence I gifted him. But Benjamin was nothing if not persistent. And dangerous. When I heard he was meeting with Leticia in secret, I didn’t need to guess what they were plotting. They wanted me dead.
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