05

The weight of Mason's grip and the venom lacing his words sent tremors through my body. I felt the sting of his accusations, the sheer injustice of his assumptions weighing heavily upon me.

"Ha, ha!" In that pivotal moment, I found my voice, my eyes narrowing with determination. "Did you really think that that is considered as good treatment? In that case, why do not you hire a servant instead? At least a servant still has rights and control over her own life." In that charged moment, my words hung in the air, a defiant challenge.

The room shook with the weight of the anger everyone felt. None of us dared to even breathe, because the air was too heavy to reach our lungs.

I braced myself against his rough grasp, refusing to cower beneath his gaze.

The strength within me surged. "Me? I have nothing! If you think that I am having such a good life, why do not you switch with me? I will give you 10,000 dollars every month, and then I will be free to fuck as many men as I want. What do you say?"

Slap!

Mason gave me a hard slap.

My reflexes kicked in, and I subconsciously raised my hand to return the slap, but Mason intervened, grabbing my arm to hold me back. "Do you want to die?" His words slashing through the air like a knife. "I do not think you realize just how low your pathetic father stooped today. He begged me, on his knees, not to divorce you. He pleaded for forgiveness one last time, showing the depths of his desperation. And yet, you dare to raise your hand against me?"

Mason's grip on my wrist loosened, but the sting of his touch lingered upon my skin.

I felt my heart sink, my breath catching in my throat. The revelation of my father's desperation stabbed at me. The realization settled heavily upon me, a bittersweet mix of betrayal and clarity.

So it was all true. The Collins were sinking, and the only one capable of saving us was Mason.

My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. A seething anger surged within me, fueled by the knowledge that my husband was nothing more than a scumbag.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I fought to keep them at bay, refusing to let my vulnerability be weaponized against me.

"That's good. Is not it better if you act like this from now on. You are lucky that you have a good father." His patronizing pat on my cheek was like a mockery of affection, a reminder that my worth in his eyes was reduced to that of a docile, obedient wife.

The bitterness swelled within me, a mixture of anger and sadness for the woman I had become.

"If he did not kneel down and beg me, I wouldn't have let you off so easily. Be a good girl from now on, or else do not blame me for not considering our relationship as husband and wife."

A cold dread settled within me as his condescending words fell upon me like shards of broken glass.

After Mason finished talking, he looked at the servant next to him and said, "Keep an eye on Young Madam. If she goes out and stirs up trouble again, you will be the one responsible!"

"Yes, sir!"

**

DAMON BANKS

In our mansion, the second floor housed a study room adorned in a subtle yet luxurious European style. The room exuded sophistication and refinement, with meticulously curated black-themed decor.

As I step into the study, a sense of calmness and quietude envelops the air. The walls, adorned with tasteful artwork, provide a visual feast for the eyes, while soft lighting casts an intimate ambiance. Bookshelves line the walls, filled with a vast collection of knowledge and wisdom.

Harley Louis leans casually against the window, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let me tell you," he begins, his voice brimming with animated chatter. "Those old geezers in the Banks family are something else. The moment they caught sight of you returning, I swear, they were spewing curses under their breaths."

As he speaks, he gestures emphatically with his hands, pausing for dramatic effect, a smirk dancing on his lips. "But of course," he adds with a theatrical sigh, "they had to put on their best fake smiles and welcome you back with open arms. Honestly, they should be nominated for Oscars with the performance they put on."

I pay no heed to Harley's chatter. My fingers hold a cigarette that has long stopped burning.

When Harley finally stops talking, I ask, "Where's the person I asked you to look for?"

Harley gulps. "It's really not my fault," he sighs. "Sir, the woman introduced herself as Diana Flowers, but this is most likely a fake name. Many people use fake names in the club, you know."

I sigh, bored, but my gesture is so subtle that Harley doesn't even notice. He continues to chatter on.

I walk over to the window and stare out at the garden of my vast estate.

How could I find someone who had made a point to hide?

"What about the security cameras?" I insist.

"The woman left before dawn and got into a taxi, sir. I haven't yet found out where the taxi driver dropped her off."

I nod, indicating that I understand, but my mind is a mess. Ever since I woke up alone in one of the rooms of my club, with a few dollars on the bedside table, I have been obsessed with the woman I had seen only once.

Our conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door. The servant speaks softly, "First Young Master, the preparation has been completed. Old Master invites you downstairs."

"Got it."

Harley and I descended the grand staircase of the mansion, the ornate banisters guiding our descent with a subtle elegance. Despite the opulence of our surroundings, Harley's ceaseless chatter filled the air, a constant stream of words that threatened to drown out everything else.

But as we reached the foot of the stairs, my attention was suddenly seized by a captivating sight. Amidst the lavish backdrop of the grand hall, a figure stood out like a beacon.

Her.

She was like a vision, her presence commanding attention with every graceful movement. Every detail of her appearance was a testament to her allure – from the way her crimson dress clung to her curves, to the subtle sway of her hips as she moved.

It was as if the world around me faded into fucking insignificance.

"What are you looking at?" Harley questioned, his own curiosity piqued.

Still entranced by the woman in red, I found my voice subdued as I replied, "Who is she?"

Following my gaze, Harley saw the beautiful woman in red. "Hey, would you look at that! She's quite the beauty, isn't she? How is it I haven't crossed paths with her before? But I do recognize the man beside her. That's Mason Donovan, the head honcho of the Donovan's Phantom Group. Rumor has it, he's a rising star in the business world. The Phantom Group's been making waves for a good few years now..."

I didn't say a word, but my eyes fell on the woman once again.

I remembered the instance her soft and delicate fingers ran across my body, my heart beating wildly at her every touch.

Of course, I didn't go to clubs to have fun. Those were my places of work, and I never slept with any of those women. But there was something different about the woman who grabbed me by the arm and asked for my... services.

That night, I clearly remembered the way that woman was able to unlock the inner hunger and desire in me. It was an unforgettable experience to say the least. Especially when she is this hot and sexy.

And I thought I wouldn't be able to find her.

I had resigned myself to the belief that I would never be able to locate her, yet destiny had intervened, granting me another chance. The woman who had stirred a flame within me now stood within reach.

"Let's go talk to this Mason then," I said, already walking toward the couple in the center of the hall.

"Of course, sir," Harley followed.

I was one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the country. Some admired me, others feared me. But everyone made way for me to pass, as if I were some kind of god.

Harley offered a warm greeting to Mason and the lady in red, his voice filled with genuine delight. "Good night. I am glad to see you both here."

Mason responded with a polite nod, acknowledging Harley's presence. "The pleasure is ours," he replied.

The lady in red's gaze brushed against mine, sparking a subtle yet undeniable connection that sent a shiver down my spine.

She flashed me a coy smile, her lips parting to reveal a hint of intrigue. "It's truly a pleasure," she purred. "I'll leave you to your conversation." She gracefully excused herself, leaving behind a trail of subtle perfume and lingering glances as she vanished into the bustling crowd.

My attention never wavered from the lady in red as I observed her every move with an intensity that mirrored a hawk's unwavering focus.

My gaze lingered upon her retreating figure.

I found myself torn between curiosity and caution. There was something about her, an allure that stirred a fire within me, a desire to uncover the secrets she carried.

Why did she use a fake name?

Why was she at the club?

Why did she betray her husband?

As I watched her vanish into the distance, I resolved to seize any opportunity that would bring me closer to her.

I nudged Harley, who was standing next to me, "You go ahead, I'll come back later."

Then, I followed the steps of the the lady in red to the bathroom.