CHAPTER SEVEN: Crossing boundaries

The following day, Mia sat in front of her mirror, gliding a lipstick over her lips. Beside her, Samantha scrolled through her phone, half-watching.

Then the phone rang.

Mia’s face brightened at the sight of her mother’s name—until she answered.

“Mom?”

The ragged sobs on the other end made her stomach drop.

“Mia, I-I got evicted… from my apartment!”

Mia shot upright. “What? Mom, what happened?”

Her mother’s voice cracked, raw with panic. “I was robbed last night, and my landlord has refused to give me an extension.”

Mia’s chest tightened. “Mom, breathe. Just hold on, okay? I’ll fix this. Give me a few hours.”

“Thank you, baby,” her mom whispered between tears.

The line went dead, but her fingers clenched tightly on her phone. She needed to act fast, and there was only one person who could provide that kind of money without paperwork or questions.

“Mia? What’s wrong?” Samantha noticed the shift in her expression immediately.

Mia shot to her feet, grabbing her purse. “I need to see Derrick.”

“Are you serious?” Samantha’s expression darkened. “That guy is a walking red flag, and you know it.”

Mia knew—she knew Derrick too well.

He had pursued her relentlessly back in high school—not because he was interested in her, but because he wanted to own her. She had cut ties with him long ago, but now, she didn’t have the luxury of pride.

“I don’t have a choice,” Mia said, her voice breaking. “I can’t let my mom sleep on the street.”

Samantha exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. “I hate this. You know he’s going to ask for something in return.”

Mia’s jaw tightened. “I know. But I’ll handle it.”

Samantha studied her for a long moment, then grabbed the car keys off the nightstand. “Let’s go. But I swear, Mia, if he tries anything, I’m stepping in.”

***********

Mia stepped into Derrick’s office, and the scent of old cigarettes and cheap cologne hit her like a thick wave. Papers cluttered his desk in unbalanced stacks, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey perched between them.

The leather of his chair was cracked and peeling—just like his charm, worn thin with time.

Behind the desk, Derrick leaned back with a slow smirk, his sharp eyes raking over her.

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to visit,” he drawled. “Mia Williams, in the flesh.”

“I need a loan, Derrick. Five thousand dollars,” she answered sharply.

His smirk widened. “Five grand? And here I thought you came for me.”

She gritted her teeth. “Can you do it or not?”

Derrick merged his fingers together, pretending to think about it. “I could. But what’s in it for me?”

“I’ll pay it back. With interest.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, Mia. after ignoring me all these years, you still want to pretend this is just business?”

A sickening wave of disgust crawled up her spine. “You humiliated me at the after-prom party. That was all we had.

Now are we doing business or not?”

He watched her for a long moment, then exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “Fine. Business it is.”

He reached into a drawer, picked up two envelopes and slid them across the desk.

“But remember, sweetheart, if you’re late on payments, don’t expect me to be lenient.”

“Thank you.” Mia grabbed the cash, her relief tinged with unease. “I’ll pay it back in two months. I promise.”

She turned to leave, but his voice followed her like a shadow.

“You should think about it, Mia.” His tone was softer, more insidious. “There can still be a little bit of affection in there. You just don’t see it yet.”

But she didn’t stop or look back.

*******

“How’d it go?” Samantha asked the moment Mia entered the car.

“I got the full amount. Let’s go.”

Samantha gave her a knowing glance. “Your mom’s house is roughly two hours away. You might not make it back in time. Besides, Angelo might call you anytime.”

“We can always reschedule.”

“No, I got this,” Samantha interrupted. “Remember, you’re supposed to blend into your role. Carry on with your date, I’ll handle the rest for you.”

Samantha was right. If she didn’t mentally prepare herself to carry out tonight’s assignment, her mother’s life would be at risk too.

*******************

After dinner, Angelo drove Mia back to Zac’s house as promised. The car ride was light, filled with easy conversation, letting her forget—if only for a moment—what lay ahead.

When they reached the parking lot, Angelo turned to her, his gaze soft with warmth. “I had a great time,” he murmured. “You’re fun to be with, Tiffany.”

Mia smiled faintly. “You too.”

His fingers brushed hers as he reached for her seatbelt, a pause in the air that wasn’t quite accidental. He leaned in slightly, close enough for her to notice—but instead of anticipation, all she felt was hesitation.

Then her phone buzzed, loud and disruptive. Angelo pulled back instantly, clearing his throat.

“You should check that,” he muttered.

Mia glanced at her phone, relieved by the interruption. “I should go.”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “See you around.”

Stepping out, she waited for a second, pressing a hand to her forehead. What was that supposed to be?

She pushed the thought aside and headed for the house. As she reached for the door, a movement behind the curtains made her pause. A subtle shift. Someone was there, watching.

*******

Inside, Zac’s voice greeted her like an icy dagger.

“Enjoyed your night out?” His tone was calm yet razor-sharp.

Mia straightened. “Um… yes, sir.”

His cold gaze swept over her. He glanced at his watch. “You’re two minutes late, Tiffany.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she replied, lowering her gaze.

Zac didn’t miss a beat. “Have my coffee ready and bring it to my study. Now.”

Mia swallowed, her pulse quickening. This could be her chance.

In the kitchen, Mia’s fingers tightened around the coffee mug as she stirred, her heart pounding. She needed to stay calm. This was just a routine he loved. The only difference tonight was the content of the tiny vial in her pocket.

She took a deep breath before pouring the sedative into the mug. It was clear, odorless, and tasteless. A few drops, and he’d be out for the night.

Then she heard footsteps. It was Zac. His shadow filled the doorway before she even saw him.

“That smells good,” he said, stepping closer, his voice smoother than usual. It caught her off guard.

Mia turned, steadying her movements as he reached for the cup, lifting it to his lips.

“Doesn’t taste bad, either.” His lips curled into a faint smile.

She mirrored the expression. “Glad you like it, sir.”

But he didn’t leave right away. Instead, he looked at her, his sharp gaze pressing in like he was peeling back her layers, searching for something underneath.

Finally, he exhaled. “I must be more tired than I thought.”

She watched him go, the cup still in his hand. She didn’t allow herself to breathe until he disappeared upstairs.

A few minutes later, she saw him moving through the house, slower than usual, gathering his files. It was a rare sight—he never went to bed this early.

It was working.

She had to do this right now or never.

Mia waited, counting the minutes. When she was sure he was out cold, she moved.

She proceeded carefully through the quiet house with a glass of water in hand. The rest of the staff had gone to bed long ago, and Zac’s guards weren’t allowed inside either.

Standing at the doorway of his bedroom, she noticed the door was slightly open.

She peeked inside and spotted the empty mug sitting on the nightstand. Zac was sprawled on the bed, one arm resting over his chest, the other dangling off the edge of the bed.

He was completely knocked out.

She slipped inside with silent steps. Zac’s bedroom was spotless and minimalist, connected to his private study.

From what she had learned, this room and his study were the only places without surveillance cameras.

The door to this study was also open, and she stepped inside—careful not to make a sound.

Then her eyes locked onto the brown leather briefcase on the desk.

This has to be it, she thought.

She hurried to the briefcase, opening it carefully. Inside were stacks of papers, some marked with confidential stamps. She reached for her phone, snapping pictures of anything that looked important.

Not until she heard a faint creak on the floorboard.

Her stomach twisted.

A shadow filled the doorway before she could react.

She turned sharply, attempting to escape, but it was too late. A hand shot out, strong fingers wrapping around her arm like a steel trap.

“Going somewhere?” His voice was calm, smooth—but there was nothing reassuring about it.

Mia’s throat tightened as she looked up.

“Who sent you?” His tone was calm, but the threat beneath it was undeniable.

She struggled for a response, her mind scrambling for a way out, but she was trapped.

“Answer me.” His voice dipped lower, quieter and even more lethal.

Then, he tilted his head slightly, and for a split second, his expression shifted. She caught the faintest smirk—the kind that sent a chill down her spine.

“I know exactly what you are. So tell me the truth… Mia Williams.”

Her eyes widened. He wasn’t just guessing. He knew.