Chapter Nine

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"Freedom is not the absence of commitments, but the ability to choose and commit myself to, what is best for me."
―Paulo Coelho,

Neil Harris

There was a strange weight around my finger. At first, it felt uncanny to wear it but since this was the result of my deed, I shook my hand once and let it be.

I had never been a fan of rings. Never wore them but for once, I had to wear a plain golden band around my finger and sign onto a document that said I was no longer a bachelor.

When the judge said, "You're now married."

An anonymous feeling coursed through me. It was suffocating and itching to even hear those words, let alone be actually committed to someone but I shook that feeling off too because I, Neil Harris would never be committed to one single woman. Moreover, it wasn't a true marriage in the first place. It was just a legal arrangement. An arrangement to sabotage a man.

I could just imagine the torn and defeated face of Marcus Davis, when he realised his favourite daughter was married to the son of the couple he murdered on that unfortunate night. The unfortunate night, he tried to cover up at any cost but failed due to one simple street camera.

If he could bribe bunch of police officers to hide a single blurry photo then I could too, to get my hands on that single, blurry photo. It was a blessing in disguise when I had acquainted myself to a man, who could find anything in this city.

Tremendous red haze engulfed me and I was ready to bring forward all of my cards. When everything was on my side, going according to my plan, it was time to reveal myself. When all were said and done, Marcus Davis would be penniless and begging for mercy.

Feeling like I was on the top of the world, I looked down at the freeway beneath me. The lavish duplex penthouse was in the heart of manhattan island, surrounded by many other skyscrapers. It was my own place, my sanctuary, where no one else was ever allowed to set foot into but tonight, one did.

A hiccup brought my eyes from the freeway to the glass wall in front of me. Along with my victorious grin, I could see her tempting figure hunched on the curved sofa.

She was still crying. Pathetic.

Thoroughly annoyed, I turned and cleared my throat loudly, catching her attention.

She sniffed and raised her head. Rubbing her hand on her face and smudging her eye makeups, she looked anything but the cold and composed princess, I had met in my office.

Puffed eyes. Red nose. Blotchy skin. They still didn't deter her beauty. How could it be? She should look ugly with every sniff, hiccup, and skin rub but instead, she looked more ravishing.

Her body on that large sofa seemed inviting and it was just calling me to join the piece of art that she was. There was something wrong with my eyes. Hell, there was something wrong in me.

On the way to her, I picked up the tissue box from the table behind the sofa and dropped it beside her.

"Enough."

She swallowed nervously and fiddled with the tissue papers before cleaning under her eyes. "What now?" She asked in a small hoarse voice.

I curled my hands, refraining myself from bringing a glass of water for her. If she wanted water then she could get it herself. I already brought her a tissue box. I wasn't her lapdog. I wasn't anyone's lapdogs.

"What now is, you are not leaving this place in the next few days. No contact with your family whatsoever." I stated, sternly. When she opened her mouth with widened eyes, I added. "And no complaining at all."

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