Chapter 6 - The Blackmailer in the Shadows & A Poisoned Flute of Champagne
Three weeks into our fake marriage, the pressure reached a boiling point. Reed
Global was hosting the annual Urban Transit Gala at the Art Institute of
Chicago, an event attended by the city’s top politicians, foreign investors, and
high-society elite.
I stood beside Graham in a floor-length emerald silk gown with an open back.
Graham was breathtaking in a bespoke black tuxedo, his arm wrapped possessively
around my waist as we greeted governors and foreign dignitaries.
To the world, we were the definition of newlywed bliss. Graham whispered inside
jokes in my ear that made me laugh genuinely, and I adjusted his bowtie with
natural familiarity. But behind the smiles, we both knew danger lurked in every
corner.
“Avery, darling!”
A sharp, shrill voice cut through the jazz music. Victoria Vance, the
billionaire heiress Marcus had originally tried to force Graham to marry,
sauntered toward us holding a flute of champagne. Her diamond necklace sparkled
maliciously under the chandelier lights.
“Victoria,” Graham greeted her coolly, tightening his grip on my waist.
“It’s simply fascinating how quickly things change,” Victoria purred, her eyes
scanning me up and down with venomous pity. “One month you’re booking Graham’s
flights, and the next you’re wearing the Reed family jewels. Tell me, Avery… how
much did Marcus pay you before you switched sides to the highest bidder?”
“Excuse me?” I said, keeping my posture regal and unyielding.
“Oh, don’t play innocent,” Victoria sneered. “Everyone in our circle knows you
were seen entering Marcus’s private club two days before the Vegas trip. It must
be so exhausting, playing both sides of the family.”
My blood ran cold. “I have never set foot in Marcus’s club in my life.”
“Enough, Victoria,” Graham interrupted, his voice dropping into a dangerous
growl that silenced the nearby guests. “If you utter another lie about my wife,
I will personally pull Reed Global’s eight-figure endowment from your father’s
foundation tonight.”
Victoria paled, her lips trembling with suppressed fury. She forced a venomous
smile, grabbed a fresh flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, and
thrust it toward me.
“A toast, then,” she hissed. “To the happy, loyal couple.”
I reached out to take the glass to end the scene, but just as my fingers touched
the crystal, Graham’s hand shot out, catching my wrist.
His eyes were locked on the bottom of the glass, where tiny, abnormal white
bubbles were rising too quickly to the surface.
Without a word, Graham took the flute from my hand, turned, and tipped the
contents directly into a decorative potted palm nearby. Within seconds, the
delicate leaves of the plant began to wilt and droop.
The surrounding guests gasped. Victoria’s eyes blew wide with terror.
Graham leaned in close to Victoria, his voice a lethal whisper. “Tell Marcus
May you like
that if he tries to put a single toxic drop near my wife again, I won’t just
ruin him financially. I will destroy him with my bare hands. Now run.”
