Nora's POV
Eighteen hours until the video goes public.
I barely sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see that footage—me in Marcus's office, touching his desk, doing something I don't remember doing.
Did I plant evidence? Was I so desperate to prove he was guilty that I became exactly what he accused me of being?
My phone buzzes at 6 AM.
Eleanor: Chemotherapy at 10. Come alone. We need to talk. —E
I stare at the message. The last thing I need is facing Dominic's grandmother while my world crumbles.
But maybe that's exactly what I need. Someone who sees through lies.
At breakfast, Dominic is already dressed, phone glued to his ear, pacing by the windows.
I don't care what Victoria claims, he says coldly. The board meeting happens on my terms, not hers.
He hangs up, turns to me. Dark circles shadow his eyes. He didn't sleep either.
Victoria's pushing hard. She's convinced half the board that I'm unstable, that the sudden marriage is proof I'm losing control. His jaw tightens. She's using you against me.
Guilt stabs through my chest. I'm sorry.
Don't be. This was coming regardless. He moves closer, cups my face. We knew she'd fight back. We just need to fight harder.
His touch makes my heart ache. In a few hours, he'll hate me.
Your grandmother wants me to go to her treatment today, I say. Alone.
Surprise flickers across his face. She asked for you specifically?
Yes.
Then go. Grandmother doesn't waste time on people she doesn't trust. He kisses my forehead gently. I'll handle the board. You handle her.
At the hospital, Eleanor sits in a treatment chair, IV in her arm, looking small but fierce.
Sit, child. She pats the chair beside her.
I sit, nervous energy making my leg bounce.
You look terrible, Eleanor observes.
Thank you?
I'm dying. I don't have time for polite lies. Her eyes—sharp as diamonds despite her frailty—study me. You're not in love with my grandson.
The words hit like a slap. My careful mask crumbles.
I
Don't lie to me. Her voice is gentle but firm. This marriage is fake. I've known since the family dinner. The question is why.
Tears burn my eyes. How did you know?
Because I've been married for fifty-three years. I know what real love looks like. She squeezes my hand. And I know what fear looks like too. You're both terrified.
Of what?
Of being hurt again. You by your ex-fiancé who destroyed your career. Dominic by loss. Eleanor's gaze turns distant. He lost his parents. Then he lost someone else—someone he loved deeply. After that, he decided it was safer to feel nothing.
My throat tightens. Who did he lose?
That's his story to tell. Eleanor focuses on me again. But here's what I see: the way he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching. Like you're real. Like you matter. He hasn't looked at anyone like that in ten years.
This is temporary. A business arrangement.
Is it? Eleanor's smile is knowing. Then why does he make your coffee exactly how you like it? Why does his voice soften when he says your name? Why did he threaten to destroy three board members who made dismissive comments about you?
He did?
James told me. Dominic's been protecting you since the moment you walked into his life. She leans closer. The question is, are you protecting him? Or are you hiding something that will destroy what you're building together?
The words pierce through me. She knows. Somehow, she knows I'm keeping secrets.
I would never hurt him, I whisper.
Not intentionally. But secrets have a way of exploding at the worst moments. Eleanor's grip tightens. Whatever you're hiding, tell him. Before someone else does.
Tears spill down my cheeks. What if telling him destroys everything?
And what if not telling him destroys you both?
We sit in silence while chemicals drip into her veins, fighting a battle she's slowly losing.
I'm scared, I finally admit.
Good. That means it matters. Eleanor smiles. The best love stories start with fear. The question is whether you're brave enough to feel it anyway.
After the treatment, Eleanor falls asleep. I sit beside her, holding her papery hand, wondering how someone so frail can be so terrifyingly wise.
My phone buzzes.
Dominic: How is she?
Me: Sleeping. She's stronger than she looks.
Dominic: Like someone else I know.
The message makes my heart squeeze.
I need to tell him. About the video. About my doubts. About everything.
But first, I need to understand what really happened that night six months ago.
I text Jennifer for the first time since discovering her betrayal.
Me: We need to talk. About the night I found Marcus's evidence. I need to remember exactly what happened.
The response comes immediately.
Jennifer: Don't contact me again. Marcus was right about you. You're dangerous.
My hands shake as I type back.
Me: Please. I'm not trying to hurt you. I just need to know—did I do something that night? Something I don't remember?
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Finally: You really don't remember, do you?
Fear crawls up my spine.
Me: Remember what?
Jennifer: That night, you were so angry. You said you'd do whatever it took to make sure Marcus paid. You said some things can't be proven, they have to be created.
No. No, no, no.
Me: What did I do?
Jennifer: I can't talk about this. Marcus said if I told anyone, he'd—
The message cuts off.
I call her. Straight to voicemail.
I try again. Again. Again.
On the fifth try, someone answers.
But it's not Jennifer.
Hello, Nora. Marcus's voice, smooth and poisonous. Looking for your little friend? She's with me now. We're having a very interesting conversation about that night. About what you did.
Let me talk to her.
Why? So you can convince her to lie for you again? He laughs. She's finally ready to tell the truth. About how you planted evidence. About how you manipulated her into being your accomplice.
That's not what happened!
Isn't it? His voice turns cold. Here's what's going to happen. In exactly twelve hours, I'm releasing that video. Along with Jennifer's sworn testimony that you fabricated evidence against me. Your credibility—what's left of it—will be destroyed. And Dominic will finally see what everyone else already knows. You're a liar and a fraud.
Marcus, please
But I'm not unreasonable. I'll give you one chance. Leave Dominic. Publicly admit the marriage was fake. Disappear. He pauses. Do that, and I'll keep the video private. Jennifer stays safe. You stay out of jail for evidence tampering.
My world narrows to a single point. You're blackmailing me.
I'm giving you a choice. Make it by midnight, or everyone sees the truth about Nora Chen.
The line goes dead.
I sit frozen, Eleanor sleeping peacefully beside me, while my life implodes.
I can save myself by destroying Dominic.
Or I can stay and let Marcus destroy us both.
My phone buzzes. A text from the same anonymous number.
A photo. Jennifer, bound to a chair, eyes wide with fear. Tape over her mouth.
Below it: Still think you're the hero of this story? Your investigation just got your best friend kidnapped. Tick tock, Nora. What will you sacrifice to save her? Your marriage? Your freedom? Or will you let another person you claim to care about get hurt because of your obsession with revenge? Choose wisely. —M
Horror floods through me.
Marcus has Jennifer. He's going to hurt her.
Because of me. Because I dragged her into this.
I stand on shaking legs, Eleanor's words echoing in my mind: Whatever you're hiding, tell him before someone else does.
I need to tell Dominic everything. The video. The blackmail. Jennifer's kidnapping.
But when I pull out my phone to call him, another message appears.
This one stops my heart.
A second video. Thirty seconds long.
It shows me from two nights ago. In Dominic's office. Looking at files on his computer while he's on the phone in another room.
I watch myself scroll through confidential documents. Copy something to a flash drive. Hide the drive in my pocket.
Except I never did that. I've never stolen anything from Dominic.
This video is fake. It has to be.
But it looks real. Terrifyingly real.
The message below: Insurance policy. In case you get brave and think Dominic will believe you over me. I have video proof you've been stealing from him too. Corporate espionage. That's 10-20 years in federal prison. Still want to tell him the truth? —M
My phone falls from nerveless fingers.
Marcus hasn't just backed me into a corner.
He's locked me in a cage where every option ends in destruction.
Tell Dominic the truth? Marcus releases fake evidence that I'm stealing from him.
Stay silent? The real video destroys my credibility and proves I planted evidence.
Leave Dominic? Jennifer gets hurt and Marcus wins everything.
There's no way out.
Unless...
An idea forms. Terrible. Dangerous. Probably stupid.
But it's the only play I have left.
I pick up my phone with shaking hands.
Text Marcus: I need proof Jennifer's alive. Then we'll talk.
His response is immediate: Smart girl. Proof coming. You have until midnight to decide.
A video call comes through.
Jennifer's face appears, tear-stained and terrified.
Nora, she sobs. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He said he'd hurt me if I didn't—
The video cuts off.
Rage burns through my fear.
I text Dominic: I need you to trust me. Don't ask questions. I'm handling something. I'll explain everything tonight.
His response: What's wrong?
Me: Please. Just trust me.
A long pause. Then: Always.
That single word breaks something in my chest.
He trusts me.
And I'm about to betray that trust in ways he can't imagine.
Because the only way to save Jennifer, protect Dominic, and expose Marcus is to do exactly what Eleanor warned against.
Keep secrets.
Tell lies.
And pray I can fix everything before it all explodes.