Brandi signed the check with a single fluid stroke. Two-point-one million, clean and unquestionable.
She tore it free, set it gently on the folder Martian had opened, and stood. "That should more than cover Susie's mess. Consider it paid in full."
Martian took the check and whistled low. "You always come in heavy."
"I don't do change," Brandi replied coolly. She adjusted her blazer, flicked her locs over one shoulder, and shot Jonathan a flat look. "Keep in touch—only if something's burning."
Jonathan nodded quickly, still rubbing his cheek.
Brandi turned to Martian. "Pleasure doing business. Let's never do it again." she said, grabbing the file from the table.
Martian chuckled. "You and me both."
—
Brandi stepped out into the bright sun, already dialing.
Her accountant answered on the first ring. "Brentford."
"You meet with Bowden?"
"I did," he replied. "Though, I wouldn't call it a meeting. She spent the whole time trying to convince me to report you. Something about buying a girl named Melinda? Pretty dramatic stuff."
Brandi didn't miss a beat. "She's not wrong, but she's wrong about the circumstances. I didn't buy Melinda, I saved her. I plan to love her. Susie's unraveling."
"oh, she's losing her grip," the accountant agreed, as he always did. "But despite the theatrics, yes. You're now a full investor at Hillsdale. The deal's closing as we speak. I even secured prime stakes in their top three assets."
Brandi smiled. "Good. You'll go back in five months for updated contracts."
"Sure. Just—" he hesitated. "One more thing. She's escalating, Brandi. She's got a look in her eye. Like she's sitting on something she's ready to use? She was on the phone before I even got out the door"
"I'll handle it," Brandi said.
But before she could hang up, her phone buzzed in her hand.
Melinda's line.
She ended the call with her accountant and immediately switched over.
"Mel?"
"There are police outside," Melinda said, voice tight. "A SWAT truck too."
Brandi's heart slammed against her ribs. "Where are you? What room?"
"Upstairs. I saw them from the back window, your guards are in cuffs. They're on the lawn. Their in the backyard too"
Brandi inhaled sharply. "Okay. Listen to me, go to the window again, slowly. Tell me what you see."
Melinda obeyed. Brandi could hear her breath over the line, shallow and fast. "They're just... standing there. Talking. They've got vests on. One of them's got a battering ram."
Brandi shut her eyes, steadying herself. "Okay. I need you to go downstairs. Open the door. Calmly. Ask what they want."
Melinda hesitated. "Brandi—"
"Trust me," Brandi said softly. "Just open the door. And keep the phone on."
She listened as Melinda stepped away from the window, down the stairs, through the hall. The sound of her breathing kept Brandi rooted. Every footstep like a thread tying them together.
Then—The door creaked open.
Melinda's voice, small. "Hi... Can I help you?"
A chorus of voices erupted at once.
"Put the phone down!"
"Ma'am, identify yourself!"
A megaphone crackled as an officer stepped forward from the line of armored bodies. "Ma'am, this is the Los Angeles Police Department. We need you to clearly identify yourself and confirm if you are Melinda Carter."
Melinda blinked into the light. "I—yes. I'm Melinda Carter."
That was all it took. They moved like a wave. Two officers surged up the steps, grabbing her arms, yanking her off the stoop, hand clinging tightly to the phone like a lifeline. She gasped, stumbled. More pushed past her into the house, weapons drawn, shouting commands she couldn't even process.
They dragged her across the lawn, past Brandi's guards who lay face-down in the grass, cuffed, some bloodied, none moving. Melinda's heart thundered. Her breath came shallow and broken.
"Where are you taking me—?"
Someone shoved her gently but firmly into the back of an ambulance. The doors remained open. A paramedic was already pulling on gloves, another taking her pulse with clammy, perfunctory fingers. Questions came too fast.
"Any injuries?"
"Have you been here against your will?"
"Do you know what day it is?"
"Has anyone touched you inappropriately?"
"I—no—I mean, I don't—" she struggled to answer. Her mind spun. She couldn't think—
Then a hand reached in.
Snatched the phone off the floor of the ambulance.
Then an officer, no badge number she could catch, hung up the call. Brandi's voice was cut off mid-word.
"Everything's gonna be alright, Miss Carter," he said with a politician's calm. "You're safe now."
Melinda shook her head. "No, what's going on—?"
"We got a report of a kidnapping. You don't have to say anything right now. But if you're willing to talk, we can get you to the station, get everything sorted out. Get you home."
"Home?" Melinda echoed. Her mouth went dry.
Her eyes flicked to the cuffs on the guards. The battering ram. The guns. The voices.
Her hands curled in her lap. She almost said yes. Almost nodded. Almost let herself fall into the safety they were offering.
But something stopped her.
She hadn't been kidnapped.
Not really.
She'd had chances to run. At the restaurant. At the boutique. Even this morning, with an unlocked door and a quiet house.
But she hadn't taken them.
She'd kissed Brandi. Or tried to. In a drunken mess, she'd clung to her, curled into her chest like she wanted to stay.
Because... she did. As awful as it felt to admit, something inside her did.
Not because she was trapped.
Because she was confused. No, drawn. To this world she'd never been shown before.
Because Brandi hadn't taken her here, and forced her to stay.
She'd asked her to.
She stared at the officer, jaw tight.
There were answers she didn't have yet. But she wasn't ready to be saved from something she didn't exactly know she needed saving from.
"... Can I make a phone call?" she asked instead.
The officer hesitated. Then nodded.
She glanced back toward the house.
Still intact. Still standing.
And for now, it was still hers, so long as she stayed.
Brandi's Maserati screeched into the driveway, the tires coughing against the pavement as she slammed it into park and launched out the driver's side. The second her heels hit the ground, she was sprinting—toward the flashing lights, the cluster of officers, the ambulance where Melinda sat, surrounded.
"Melinda?" she shouted.
But two officers intercepted her, blocking her path. One reached for her wrist, another moved for his cuffs.
"Ma'am, stop right there!"
"Get off me!" Brandi shoved the first one back, rage flashing like lightning across her face.
They took it as an attack.
The nearest officer shouted, "TASER—!"
Brandi barely had time to look down before the prongs hit her, wires buzzing.
Her body jerked, but only for a second. She stayed standing, breath heaving, a red mark already rising on the fine white fabric of her Chanel blouse. Slowly, she reached up, eyes dark, and pulled the prongs free from her skin. The wires followed, torn free with a sharp yank that sent the taser clattering to the grass.
"I said—" she hissed, holding the prongs like wire fangs, "—let me speak to her."
"You're under arrest!" one of them barked, pulling his gun. "For the kidnapping of Melinda Carter!"
"No! no-" Melinda's voice broke through the chaos. She scrambled forward from the ambulance, eyes wide, voice shaking. "No, she didn't kidnap me!"
The officers hesitated.
"I wasn't kidnapped," Melinda said again, stronger now. "I'm not hurt. She didn't force me to do anything. I just—" Her voice faltered. "I just... I don't know. But this? This isn't right. Brandi hasn't done anything wrong."
The standoff chilled. Guns lowered, though not all the way.
The lead officer turned to Melinda, lips thin. "We had an anonymous report. A high-level tip. SWAT doesn't move unless the details are concrete."
"It was Susie," Brandi muttered from behind clenched teeth. "It had to be."
The officer glanced between them. "We'll be filing a report. Neither of you are to leave town until this is sorted. We'll look further into the reports"
He looked back at Brandi, eyes hard. "This isn't over."
Then they left. SWAT packed up. Sirens quieted. Tires rolled off the driveway.
Brandi stood there, chest rising and falling. Melinda didn't move until Brandi turned, slow, eyes searching hers.
"I didn't think they'd believe me," Melinda whispered. "But I had to say it."
Brandi's shoulders slumped. "Come inside."
Back in the house, the quiet was unbearable. Brandi locked the front door and leaned against it for a moment like she needed it to hold her up. Melinda sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the floor.
Finally, Melinda spoke.
"I'll stay."
Brandi froze. She looked over slowly, disbelief tightening her features. "What?"
"I'll stay," Melinda repeated, voice quieter. "With you."
Brandi crossed the room in two careful steps. "What changed?"
Melinda bit her lip, eyes glossy. "I'm scared."
Brandi's face fell.
"Did I do something?" she asked softly. "Did I—?"
"No. No, Brandi." Melinda reached for her hand. "You haven't done anything. That's why I'm still here. But all this—" she gestured toward the door, the echo of sirens still ringing in her bones. "I need to understand. I think you we're right. About Susie. There's no one else who could've made that call. There's obviously more!"
Brandi nodded slowly. "And you have every right to be scared. But not of me. Of her. Of what she's done."
"W-what did she do?" Melinda whispered.
"I'll tell you over dinner" Brandi said. "But for now I'll keep you safe. Just like I showed you what I could give you... let me show you what I can protect you from."
She pulled Melinda into a tight hug, one hand cradling the back of her head. Melinda melted into her chest, eyes fluttering shut. Her breath slowed.
But after a long moment, she pulled back, awkward, looking away. "Sorry."
Brandi just smiled, touching her cheek. "No need."
She stepped back and offered her hand again. "Let's go to your apartment. You can grab everything you want. Clothes. Books. Whatever you need."
Melinda paused. "Is this... permanent?"
Brandi met her gaze.
"It is, as long as you want it to be."
Melinda nodded.
—
Melinda moved through her apartment like a ghost. Quiet, and mechanical. Her arms were full, framed photos of her and college friends, a stack of well-worn books, a few favorite sweaters. She stopped by her closet and stared at her work clothes. Sleek, professional. Familiar. She reached for one of the outfits—a navy pencil skirt and blouse, and held it like she didn't recognize it anymore.
She was alone in the bedroom. Two bags already sat by the door downstairs by Brandi's car. What she had now was basically it, all she could carry and all that could fit in Brandi's car. The rest, furniture, clutter, the apartment itself, what she had felt small in her hands compared to what she was walking into. Or away from.
She stood there, arms heavy with things, staring at the empty space they used to fill.
Behind her, Brandi stepped into the doorway, voice soft. "You alright?"
Melinda didn't turn. "Can I go back to work?"
Silence.
She turned to face Brandi fully, her voice low and urgent. "Or something. Anything. I don't know what you want from me. I don't even know what's next. You won't tell me."
Brandi stepped forward, hands up in a quiet attempt to calm. "Tomorrow—you can. You can do whatever you want. I swear."
Melinda's arms dropped slightly, belongings shifting in her grip. "You say that like it's simple."
"It's not," Brandi admitted. She looked suddenly more tired than before, her voice edging toward frantic. "Melinda, I'm trying to figure it out. All of this. The auction, Susie, whatever she's done t—none of it should've touched you. You didn't deserve to be dragged into any of it."
"I don't want you to be hurt-"
"Then tell me what it is then?" Melinda's throat tightened, her breath shaky. She didn't respond.
Brandi rubbed her forehead and took a breath. Then she stepped closer, gentler again. "Come on. Let's get out of here. I'll make dinner. And I'll tell you everything. Why I don't want you going back there... to Susie"
Melinda nodded, wordless.
They left the apartment cold and still. Melinda glanced around once as she locked the door behind them, a hollow shell now. A neighbor was coming up the hall and paused when she saw Melinda.
"Oh, hey, someone came by a while ago asking about you. Think it was your boss? She seemed... worried. Asked if you were alright?"
Melinda froze. She glanced at Brandi—whose expression had hardened instantly. Cold and sharp, like Susie was there herself. Then she looked back at the neighbor and forced a smile, lips trembling. "I'm fine. Just staying somewhere else for a while."
The neighbor nodded politely, but watched her as she walked away.
Brandi slipped her arm around Melinda's waist as they reached the hallway. Her voice dropped to a whisper by her ear.
"Susie used you as collateral."
Melinda stopped walking. Her whole body stiffened. Her eyes went wide, heart thudding.
The elevator dinged. The doors pulled open.
Brandi didn't say anything more.
They stepped in together—into the quiet, confined space—and began their descent.
—
Susie paced like a panther behind her desk, her heels clicking in quick bursts on the tile. "You called them, right? The police?"
Eric nodded, scrolling something on his phone. "Yeah. I told them everything you gave me. The auction. Brandi's address. That she might've kidnapped Melinda."
Susie paused, nodding to herself. "Good. That should keep her away from Melinda for a while. Get her rattled. Scared. Something."
Eric glanced up. "You want me to stay?"
"No, no. Go home." She waved a hand, already sliding into her chair. "I've got things to finish. Specifically, processing our newest, and might I say largest, investor this branch has seen in its entire history. Brentford, god, that insufferable girl.
Eric offered her a tight smile and ducked out, leaving her alone in the office.
Susie sat down and cracked her knuckles, pulling up the hidden dashboard tucked beneath layers of encrypted files: Melinda Carter's forged portfolio. Numbers rolled up the screen like a slot machine jackpot, green, thriving, near the total she needed to clear the last of the interest on her debt.
She exhaled, leaning back in her chair—just as her phone rang.
Her stomach turned at the name glowing on the screen: Shedevil.
Susie sat up straighter and composed herself. She answered with forced ease, "Brentford. What can I do for you now?"
Brandi's voice was smooth and venom-laced. "I heard you didn't give my accountant any trouble. That's good. Polite, even."
Susie rolled her eyes, voice flat. "He was... tolerable. Brief."
"But that's not why I'm calling," Brandi continued. "I'm calling to let you know Melinda's fine. Your little stunt with the cops? She hated it. So did I. You're lucky I don't press charges for filing a false report."
Susie stiffened but kept her voice even. "You're lucky I didn't do worse."
" you don't have the money to do it" Brandi continued, unbothered, "but that's I paid off that debt you had with Martian. You remember Martian, don't you, yeah you do? Or maybe you remember your former boss a little more vividly. What's it been—how many years since he wound up six feet under thanks to you?"
There was a pause.
"...Four," Susie finally answered.
Brandi's silence on the other end said enough.
Then she said, calmly: "You ought to thank me, Susie. I just bought your silence, your freedom, and your reputation. You're welcome."
Susie's lips tightened. Her fingers twitched over her mouse.
"Now," Brandi added, "I suggest you start treating Melinda like she never existed in your issues."
Susie's voice dropped an octave, laced with acid. "You don't own her either..."
Brandi's voice came back just as cool. "No. But she did choose me."
Click.
Susie stared at the phone, heat crawling up her neck.
And for once, she had no idea what her next move was. What came next. Debt free with a forged portfolio, shed planned to pay the debt with. And the person who owned her now... she hated with a passion.
—
The silverware barely clinked against porcelain. Melinda sat at one end of the long dining table, curled into her seat like she wanted to disappear. She hadn't said much, hadn't even looked at Brandi. But the food was half-eaten, which was something.
Brandi sat at the other end, unmoving for a long moment. Then, slowly, she began.
"I had a meeting today," she said quietly. "With Martian. He's the one Susie owed money to."
Melinda didn't look up, but she stilled.
"Turns out," Brandi continued, "Susie used you as collateral for nearly two-million-dollar debt. Your name, your credentials, on a fake investment portfolio she built through Hillsdale, I can show you everything if you want. She forged everything to keep the money clean and hidden."
Melinda's fork froze midair. Her lips parted like she might speak, but nothing came.
"And Martian," Brandi said, voice hardening, "is the one who runs the auction you were brought into. Jonathan works for him. He's a- was a friend, the one who saw your sweepstakes entry and realized you matched what I'd once told him I liked. I made mention of meeting you, and I suppose he made the connection. Arranged everything. I didn't know it would be like this until you were on that stage."
Melinda's hands were shaking. "collateral? Like... I would've been hurt if she didn't pay?"
"She hadn't paid yet..." Brandi nodded once, grim. "I don't know exactly what he would've done. But it wouldn't have been good, from what I read, she had until the end of this month."
Melinda stood suddenly, chair scraping hard against the floor. "You, how do you even know this? What, you just found out?"
Brandi rose, slow and steady. "He called me. Wanted a meeting. Said if I gave you back, they'd return my money. I refused."
Melinda staggered back a step, eyes filling. "You mean I was going to be sold again? After all that? If she doesn't pay—"
"I paid," Brandi snapped. "I paid Susie's debt. You're not tied to her anymore."
"So now I'm tied to you."
"No—" Brandi moved fast, coming around the table. "Melinda, I—"
"You bought me. Again," she whispered. "First it was the auction, now it's this debt. I was so stupid. I thought you were kind. I thought one date meant something, really showed me who you are."
"It did," Brandi said lowly. "Don't you dare say it didn't."
Melinda looked up at her, betrayed. "Susie has money. If she needed to pay that debt, she could've used the portfolio? I didn't even know about it, I wouldn't have?! She could've...none of this had to happen."
Brandi's voice rose. "She was walking on eggshells, she was relying on Hillsdale good name til end of the month, she never definitely could pay it because that portfolio wasn't going to be eligible til the end of the month. She didn't care what happened to you, that's why she put you out there like that. Because she had David Stewart, her boss, killed just to get his position. She used your name because it was clean. She used your trust."
Melinda blinked, stunned. Her heart thudded in her chest.
"Can't you see?" Brandi said, stepping closer. "I saved you."
Melinda shot up from her chair, stumbled back, but Brandi caught her wrist. She pulled her in, kissed her quickly, desperately. Melinda turned her head, but Brandi wrapped her arms tight.
"I would never hurt you," she whispered into Melinda's hair. "I love you. I want you. I'll give you anything. We had a perfect day, didn't we? We can have more. You just have to trust the process."
Melinda sobbed into her shoulder. She didn't speak. She just let herself sink there, silent and crushed. Her legs gave out slowly. Brandi caught her. Scooped her up like she was weightless.
Upstairs. Into the guest bed. Blankets tucked around her.
"Please rest," Brandi murmured. "Just rest. Let yourself understand."
Then she left.
Downstairs, she stared at the table, at the overturned glass and scattered food, and snapped. A plate shattered against the far wall, echoing like a gunshot. Her jaw clenched. Her fists curled. Anger rippled like a flame.
At Susie. At Martian. At Jonathan. At everything that touched Melinda before she could.
But not at Melinda.
Never at Melinda.
—
Susie jolted upright, breath sawing out of her lungs, her silk sheets tangled around her legs like a noose. Her chest heaved. The echo of the gunshot still rang in her ears.
The dream clung to her like smoke.
Four years ago.
The lobby of Hillsdale had looked different, older. Less polished.
She remembered it clearly. She'd been 36. David was 54, with good hair and a gut he kept hidden behind tailored suits and a self-made man's arrogance.
They'd walked out arm-in-arm, his fingers too tight around her elbow, his voice slick with charm. He was gushing about her new dress, about how brilliant she'd been in that last meeting.
"You really are wasted as an assistant," he'd laughed, eyes dragging down her body. "Maybe I'll promote you to partner, if you keep making investments like that."
He thought he was being clever. Thought she didn't know he'd already stolen her pitch and sold it to the board as his own.
She'd smiled. Said nothing.
In the elevator, he leaned into her, hands wandering. He kissed her neck and whispered that she should come to his place. "We'll celebrate. Do a little... reinvesting in each other."
She'd nodded again. Bit her tongue. Burned inside.
When they stepped out into the street, she pulled away just enough to make it seem like she was shy. Like she was nervous, flattered.
He'd tugged her closer, laughing. "Come on, baby. You know, everybody already knows."
She remembered the warmth of his palm on the small of her back.
And then—
BAM.
A flash. A spray of red. His body crumpling beside her like dropped laundry.
Susie's scream had split the street. Blood had splattered across her blouse. Her shoes. Her face.
And she hadn't moved. Not right away.
She'd just stared.
At David's still body.
At the perfect bullet hole in his skull.
At the job opening.
Now, in bed, her sweat chilled her. Her pulse was still racing.
She pressed her palms to her face.
Four years later, the memory hadn't dulled. Not the guilt. Not the thrill.
And now... Brandi knew.
Susie shivered, curling inward, dread knotting in her stomach.
Something had to give, she thought, either herself or something she couldn't quite name. the dream had been haunting her for 4 years straight, and it was no different now she couldn't talk to anyone about it, she knew it was the girl eating away at her that she killed her own boss, but in the end it meant a bigger check in a nicer home.
but now she faced bigger issues not the police investigating the death of her boss, you're looking into her finances because they knew somebody had to have paid to have him killed on the street like that. she was dealing with Brandi Brentford, a hard hit a little girl that didn't listen to anyone who wasn't on her dime.
Slowly, she sat up in bed, her mind telling her to reach for her phone and call that wretched girl. but she stopped herself realizing that that girl had paid off her debt she had bigger things to worry about like what she was going to do with a portfolio with her secretaries forged credentials on it.