Asher
As I drive to New Jersey, my heart races with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The road ahead is dimly lit, the headlights of passing cars illuminating the path before me. I grip the steering wheel tightly, feeling the weight of my desperation pushing me forward.
It's almost nine in the evening when I finally arrive at Clare's grandmother's house. It's a modest house, nestled amongst others on a quiet street.
Parking the car. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what lies ahead.
With every step towards the front door, my heart pounds in my chest, echoing the urgency of my hunt.
I knock on the door, my hand trembling slightly. Seconds feel like an eternity as I wait for a response.
Finally, the door creaks open, revealing a startled familiar face.
"Asher!" Clare's eyes widen as she tries to close the door, but I use my hand and the weight of my body to force it open.
"Don't even think about it!" I warn, grabbing her arm when she tries to run.
"What are you doing here?" Clare's frantic gaze darts around, probably thinking about how she can make an escape.
I need to take a couple of deep breaths as I look at her. I've never been a violent person, but my whole body is pulsing with rage.
"Start talking," I demand, my voice a low hiss as I lock eyes with her.
"You're hurting me." She cries out, struggling against my grip.
"I swear to God, Clare..." I shake my head. "If you don't start talking right now..."
"My grandmother is really sick, and she's sleeping upstairs... " She breathes, tears falling freely from her eyes. "Please."
My eyes dart to the stairs leading to the second floor, and I shake my head in frustration. "Fine. Let's talk in the car." I say, not releasing my hold on her.
She looks around the room for a second as if thinking about a way to get out of this situation, but I don't give her much option and practically drag her to the car.
"You don't need to lock the doors..." she whispers once we're both inside.
"Talk. Now."
"My grandmother has hemophilia," she begins, her voice quivering. "It's a genetic disorder, and she's been battling it for years. The medical bills are astronomical, and we've been struggling to keep up with the expenses. I did what I did because I was desperate, Asher."
My hands tighten on the steering wheel, a mix of anger and frustration bubbling within me. "Who's behind this? Who's paying you?"
Clare lowers her gaze, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's complicated, Asher. If I tell you—"
"Who is fucking paying you?" I punch the steering wheel, her reluctance only serving to fuel my fury.
"Asher..."
I turn to her, making sure she sees it in my eyes that I'm not playing around. "I swear to God if you don't start talking, I'll drag you straight to the police station and you'll never see the light of day again."
She looks down; her tears a silent admission of guilt. "Henry and Emma's father are working on a plan to get you out of the CEO position."
"What?"
"Henry wants to take your place and they think if they can get you out of the picture, it'll be easier for James to win his campaign for governor since he'll have Henry's support." She blurts out. "They're planning to merge some of their businesses, and they needed me to gather evidence to discredit you."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, my jaw clenching in response. I know the sight of someone you love suffering can drive you to desperation, but I never imagined Clare would stoop so low. We've known each other for years. We've had a casual relationship that we both enjoyed, and we've always been friends.
Or so I thought.
"How long has this been going on?" I ask.
She hesitates, her gaze flickering away for a moment before she meets my eyes again. "Henry approached me when those pictures of us together went out," she admits. "But they've been planning it for a while. They think they can use the situation to their advantage and manipulate everything to their benefit."
"I'll fuck kill him..." I murmur, my hands balling into fists.
Clare's eyes widen with fear at my words, but she continues, desperation clear in her voice. "Asher, you don't understand. They threatened to kill my grandmother if I ever told anyone. They have people everywhere, watching our every move. I had no choice..."
I cut her off, my mind racing with anger and disbelief. "You had a choice, Clare," I snap, my voice sharp with accusation. "You always had a choice."
Ignoring her protests, I reach for my phone and dial my Max's number; my fingers tapping impatiently on the screen as it rings.
"Max," I say as soon as he answers, my voice tense with urgency. "I need you to listen to me carefully..."
As I explain the situation to him, his voice fills with anger and frustration on the other end of the line. "I can't believe this," he growls. "You're there alone? That's not safe, Asher."
"I know," I reply, my jaw tight with determination. "But I need to make sure Clare has left no evidence behind. Can you meet me here with our security team?"
"Of course," he says without hesitation. "Share your location with me, and we'll be there soon."
With a few taps on my phone, I share my location with Max and end the call, feeling a sense of relief knowing that they're on the way. Turning to Clare, I meet her gaze with a steely resolve.
"You almost destroyed my marriage," I say. "How can I look at the woman I love in the eye after I woke up naked in your place and remember nothing about that night?"
Clare's eyes widen with a mixture of guilt and fear as my words hit her like a slap in the face. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off with a sharp gesture. "How could you betray me like this?"
Clare's expression falters, and she lowers her gaze, unable to meet my accusing stare. "Asher, I swear..." she begins, but her words trail off as she struggles to find an explanation.
"Save it," I snap, my patience wearing thin. "I trusted you, Clare. I thought you were my friend. But you've proven that you're nothing but a... You wanted to destroy me... to destroy my marriage."
"Emma isn't who you think she is...." she whispers, her head shaking. "She's been working with her father behind your back, plotting to take you down."
"Shut the fuck up, Clare." I close my eyes, pulling my hair in frustration.
She touches my shoulder, and I flinch, shooting her a silent warning with my eyes. "Don't fucking touch me."
"Here." She hands me her phone. "It's a text from Henry, telling me I shouldn't feel guilty about what I was about to do when your own wife was working behind your back."
"Do you really think I'm going to trust anything you say after everything you've put me through?"
Clare's trembling hands hold out her phone towards me, the screen displaying a video file.
I wish I didn't recognize the woman on the screen.
With a heavy heart, I take the phone and press play, steeling myself for whatever damning evidence lies within.
The video starts, and the scene unfolds before me like a nightmare coming to life.
James, Emma's father, sits in a lavish office, his expression twisted in a sinister smirk. Beside him, Emma stands, her features tense and unreadable.
As James speaks, his voice oozes with a calculated charm, outlining his plans for Emma to manipulate me into supporting his political campaign.
Emma remains silent throughout James's speech, her eyes fixed on some distant point, her emotions veiled behind a mask of stoicism. But as James finishes speaking, she cuts in with a chilling calmness.
"Are you done?" Emma's voice cuts through the tension, her tone devoid of any emotion.
James's smirk widens, his satisfaction palpable. With a nod, he gestures towards the door, a silent dismissal. Emma meets his gaze for a fleeting moment, her eyes betraying a flicker of remorse before she turns and leaves without a word.
The video ends, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. I stare at the screen, the weight of this scene settling like a leaden weight in the pit of my stomach.
As I watch the scene playing in front of me, a chilling sensation runs through my veins. In an instant, a wave of disbelief washes over me, causing my heart to thump so loudly in my chest that it's hard to breathe.
When did this happen?
Why didn't Emma say anything about meeting her father?
What the fuck is going on?
"Henry is the one who filmed this." Clare's voice breaks through the silence, her tone filled with a mixture of sorrow and desperation. "He was there talking to James when Emma arrived."
I bring my eyes to her, unable to say anything.
"I told you, Asher." She shrugs as if she hasn't just shattered my word. "Emma isn't who you think she is. She's been playing you from the start."
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A/N: Woah! So much going on! What's going to happen now, guys?
Thank you so much for your kind words and support! I'm feeling much better now! <3
You guys are the best!
XOXO
Celeste