8
Red walked back to the dining table, her lips stretched into a fake smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Inside, her mind was spinning—what was Ava trying to say? Why did she sound so panicked?
Her heart sank. Raze…
Of course, it had to be Raze Maddox.
She could still remember that crazy look in his eyes back in high school—the same eyes that made her take that stupid blood oath.
“No one touches you, Red,” he’d said, slicing a line across his palm and making her do the same. “If they try, they die. You’re mine.”
And he meant it. Raze had always been obsessed. He didn’t care that she danced in a strip club—he hated it, yes—but he let it go because he knew he’d come back for her. He always did.
Granny’s voice suddenly pulled her out of the fog.
“Red, sweetheart, are you okay?” the old woman asked, tilting her head with concern.
Red blinked and forced another smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“I hope Nico isn’t bothering you?” Granny added, her voice warm but cautious.
“No, he’s not… thank you,” Red said quickly, rising from her seat.
Before anyone could ask more, she rushed out of the dining room, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she disappeared upstairs.
Back upstairs, Red slammed the door shut and leaned against it, her chest rising and falling.
Her eyes landed on the shiny black credit card Nico had tossed on the table earlier. It just sat there on the dresser like it had been waiting for her. Slowly, a wild idea began brewing in her head.
Shopping.
That was her ticket out, her golden excuse. She could play the good little wifey, act like she was going to buy some rich snobby clothes to impress the Bellamys—but in reality, she was going to meet Ava. She needed to explain everything. Every fucking thing.
She ran a hand through her hair, heart pounding. Ava needed to know the mess she was in.
This wasn’t just some sugar daddy fairytale gone wrong. This was life or death. Because if Raze Maddox—her childhood sweetheart, the boy who once made her slice her palm for a stupid blood oath—found out she was married to someone else, let alone Nico fucking Bellamy?
Oh, God.
Red let out a shaky breath.
Raze would burn the world. And Nico?
That poor, arrogant, clueless billionaire with his fake rich-boy problems?
He’d lose his pathetic life before he even knew what hit him.
She snatched the credit card, shoved it into her purse, and headed downstairs.
Shopping. That’s all she had to say.
As soon as she stepped into the living room, two men in black suits straightened up from where they’d been pretending to blend into the shadows. Sunglasses indoors, earpieces tucked in. Typical.
“Ma’am,” one of them said with a slight nod. The other opened the door before she could even reach for the handle.
She blinked. “Seriously?”
“Boss’s orders,” the first one said, flat voice. “You only leave with a driver. And we ride along.”
Of course. Of fucking course.
Red forced a polite smile and clutched her purse tighter. “Right,” she said, voice sweet as syrup. “Let’s go shopping, boys.”
But in her head, the only thing she was shopping for… was a damn way out.
The black car pulled up in front of the mall .
Red stepped out slowly, adjusting her glasses and holding her chin high—because she could already feel the stares before both heels even touched the ground.
Click. Click.
“Is that…?” a voice whispered nearby.
Two girls in sleek gym wear, clutching iced coffee like trophies, nearly snapped their necks turning. One of them pulled out her phone faster than a sniper.
“OMG that’s Nico Bellamy’s fiancée,” the other one muttered, eyes wide.
“She’s the one from that scandal? The strip club? Ew.”
“I heard he dumped the Valentino heiress for her—like, what does she even do?”
Red heard it all. Every damn word.
She didn’t flinch. Just gave a small smirk, tossed her hair like it didn’t matter, and walked right past them.
If they thought they could shake her, they had no idea who the hell they were whispering about.
But deep down? Her stomach twisted. Because the fake story was spreading fast.
And Raze Maddox didn’t take kindly to headlines.
Red walked into the luxury store like she knew what she was doing.
She didn’t.
The shiny lights, the smell of expensive perfumes, the mannequins that looked richer than her dreams—everything screamed you don’t belong here. But she held her head high anyway, gripping Nico’s black card like it was a damn grenade.
A lady in heels that sounded like gunshots walked up to her.
“Welcome, ma’am. May I help you?”
Red nodded fast. “Yeah, uhm… I need clothes. Like… expensive ones.”
The woman smiled politely but eyed her crop top and faded jeans like she was about to call security. “Of course. Do you have a particular brand in mind?”
Red blinked. “Yeah, uh... Gucci? Or Chanel? Whichever one comes with a discount.”
The saleslady paused.
Red cleared her throat. “Okay sorry, no discount. He said expensive. Very expensive. I think.”
An hour later, Red stood in front of the counter, holding three dresses, a shiny bag, and a pair of heels she swore could pay her house rent. The cashier smiled and said the total with too many zeros.
Red gave the card.
Then panicked.
“Wait… do I insert it or swipe it? Or just show it like a badge?”
The cashier smiled. “You tap it.”
She tapped it.
Nothing happened.
She tapped again. And again. Like she was playing a video game. “It’s not working. Do I… blow on it?”
The cashier tried not to laugh. “Let me help you, ma’am.”
Red stepped back, red-faced. “It’s my first time with this kind of rich people’s card, okay?”
When it finally went through, she mumbled, “God, I hope I didn’t accidentally buy the whole store.”
The cashier handed her the bags with a polite, “Enjoy your day, Mrs. Bellamy.”
Red walked out of the store, arms full, muttering under her breath. “Mrs. Bellamy, my foot. This whole thing still feels like a Netflix prank.”
Just as Red was about to enter the car, her phone buzzed in her pocket.