Chapter 5

Sarah

When I arrive at the club, I go in and look around.

I became very good at this, and like an owl looking for its prey, I look for "my prey."

It wasn't too tricky to find David sitting in one of the lounges with a woman on his lap.

I approach him and cough, but he didn't see or hear me.

I hit the woman on the shoulder, and she separates her lips from David and looks up irritated.

The handle of my gun is strategically visible and my eyes are cold as icy.

The woman who had looked at me with irritation swallowed hard and disappeared from the scene so fast that David still held something as if she had never gone.

He finally looks at me.

- Stepmommy! – He says, completely drunk and ironic as hell. - You scare my “fuck away.” You're so mean! – He says, looking at my cleavage.

- Eyes up here. - I say, pointing to my eyes. - After a 12-hour trip, the first thing you do is get drunk?

- It was Thomas's fault. He's the one who got me drunk.

- Hey, traitor. - Thomas shouts to make himself heard over the loud music. - You're the one calling me.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. The last thing I needed on a Wednesday night was to put up with two drunk idiots.

- David, let's go.

- The bar won't stop twirling. You need to help me get up. - He says, laughing.

I cross my arms and look at him. Another faking Campbell I had to put on.

I stretch out my hand to pull him, but he, either through drunkness or with intention, instead of getting up, drags me to his lap.

Our mouths stop inches apart, and our eyes meet. For a moment, the sound of music and voices disappears, and I only hear the heaving of our breaths and the rapid beating of our hearts.

Seconds passed without either of us moving. His eyes move to my mouth, and his tongue slowly passes over his lower lip.

I shudder.

- You're already on the second woman, and I haven't caught the first one yet. Bringing you to my hunting ground is something I won't repeat. - Thomas said, approaching and interrupting the moment.

Sarah gets up immediately and screams.

David, can you get up immediately, or do I need to call your father to come and get you personally?

That could be ridiculous if his father were someone else.

David's green eyes go cold, and he almost sobers up.

- Oh, Miss Scott, I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you, especially sitting on the wrong Campbell’s lap - Thomas says, laughing while trying to keep himself straight.

- I'll call an Uber to take you home, Mr. Halley. You're as drunk as he is. - I say, pointing to David, who tries to get up.

When I finally manage to get them both to the door, I force David into the limo and wait for Thomas's Uber to show up. As soon as Thomas's Uber disappears, I pinch the bridge of my nose again. The headache and tiredness were starting to affect me. I get into the limo and notice that David has fallen asleep.

Thank God, one less problem.

I ordered the driver to take us to the Campbell mansion, and as soon as we arrived, two servants rushed to help David get to his room.

There was no sign of Simon. Everything was dark at home. He didn't have insomnia or nightmares. Neither he nor Michael and hell if he bothers to find out if his son’s okay.

The limo takes me back home.

As soon as I got in, I took a painkiller and half a sleeping pill. I needed sleep, and if Simon call again, I don’t want to hear the phone.

It was almost 3 am, and I had to get up early, but as soon as I lay down, the image of David running his tongue over his lips while looking at my lips made my body heat up.

Thank God the pill takes effect, and I fall asleep, but the dreams I had, I would not tell anyone, not even the psychologist I had been seeing since the day I was tricked into joining the organization.

This dream was on the list of things I didn't dare repeat out loud to anyone, right next to "I kill someone."

David

Michael Campbell is Simon's eldest son and the only one with his first wife. She had been missing since the day she tried to divorce him, and everyone knew Simon had something to do with that.

To Simon, divorce meant he had to give half of what he had to her, and someone like him would not expose the source of his fortune in a family court.

That’s why every woman he married after her had to sign a prenup.

Without his mother and as a toddler, he was educated by Simon to replace him one day.

Michael was his father's son in every way possible and his right hand. He was feared by everyone for his coldness and cruelty.

When I was born, Michael was already 16 years old. He hadn't accepted the woman our father brought into the house, and he had never accepted that I was his equal.

As the son of Simon’s lover, I grew up next to my mother and was ignored by my father and brother. When, unexpectedly and suspiciously, she died, I became all alone in the world at the young age of 16.

When Michael leaves the house to catch the plane, and the front door slams, echoing through the atrium of the large mansion, I wake up and groan.

- Oh God, Thomas. Why did you make me drink so much? - I say, turning to the other side and covering my head.

I didn't have time to fall asleep again because the bedroom door was opened backward, slamming against the wall with all its might, and my father entered.

Simon opens the windows, letting in the morning sun, and rips the blankets off me.

- What the hell. That’s too much light. - I say, pressing the pillow to my head.

Simon rips off the pillow and throws it on the floor.

- Get out of bed. If you're old enough to drink until you drop dead, you're old enough to get up early and go to work.

I sit on the bed and regret the quickness of the gesture. My head felt like it wanted to explode, and all the lights and screams weren't helping.

- Don’t scream. My head hurts. What work? Live me alone.

Simon is furious.

- Your head hurts? Next time, drink water. – Simon screamed - As soon as you came to my house, you behaved like a drunken punk. Get out of bed, shower, put on something decent, and go downstairs. I'm waiting for you for breakfast. Today you are going with me to the company.

Simon leaves without giving me any chance of replay.

- Fuck my life. Welcome back to hell, David. - I say softly.