img Bound By The Billionaire Star's Lies  /  Chapter 4 4 | 40.00%
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Chapter 4 4

Word Count: 1152    |    Released on: Today at 16:50

and she stared at the grille of the SUV like it might transform into something else if she

els clicking with deliberate slowness across the garage floor. She stopped at the edge of the l

and. "I'm M. Blackwood. Mr. Moody'

dignity in fragments around her. "I don't care w

o fingers like she was feeding a treat to an animal. Alena slapped it away. Th

trained, the vocal equivalent of a press re

ands were moving without instruction, because some part of her still beli

nutes ago, holding the burner phone. Alena pressing record. Alena's face in close-up, her mo

ch of last year," Blackwood said, as if discussing weather. "For yo

graphs rustling like dead leav

thinner. "The alternative is tomorrow's headline: 'Moody Ex-Girlfriend Arrested for Extor

en paused, her head tilting in a

sharing a secret at a party. "The Cartier necklace. The Art Deco emeral

ng something about estate jewelry, tax advantages, a favor for a friend. She'd s

nance is quite public. Your name, the trust account, the charitable donation structure

. The vehicle reversed, turned, disappeared around the corner, leaving Alena alone with the photographs and the envel

e, the city spread below her, and she walked into the apartment with its perfect sight lines a

they felt like collateral. The auction paperwork. Her signature, flowing and unthinking, on a proxy bid authorization

s shoes, the physical evidence of a life she'd believed was sha

. You used me to hide your money. Five years and I'm nothing

atus changed to del

g. I hope you die alone and afraid and you think of

d. Read.

one from Cabo in year two when he'd still looked at her like she mattered-she

tered down, landing face-up, their s

Globes. She took the scissors from her desk, the ones she used for packaging, and she cut. Thro

ldn't feel, that couldn't care, that represented nothing but her own stupidity. She cut until her

tographed for evidence, for leverage, for the journalists she would call in

g, sudden darkness. But the seventy-inch screen in the living room remained aglow, a solitary, menacing eye. The s

Making.

er feet crunching on broken glass. The elevator chimed. Not her elevator. The service entrance

Multiple sets. The murmur

oor. "TMZ. We have sources saying you're insi

ite and blinding. Camera shutters, t

own until she was sitting in darkness, surrounded

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