I wanted to scream at him, to lash out. But this wasn’t the place—or the crowd.
"You don’t know what you’re talking about," I said, forcing steel into my words.
"Don’t I?" Nathaniel chuckled darkly, stepping closer. His voice dropped, a cruel whisper for my ears alone. "Should I show them the proof? The footage of your dear father, palms greased with dirty money?"
My blood ran cold.
Proof? He couldn’t have—
"You’re lying," I hissed, barely able to keep the panic from breaking through.
Nathaniel’s smile widened, a predator scenting fear.
"You can leave now," he announced, turning back to the audience. "The Aldridge heir is clearly overwhelmed by memories of their illustrious legacy."
Laughter bubbled around the room, cruel and biting.
My vision blurred, tears threatening to spill. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
I turned, pushing through the crowd, my heels clicking against the polished floor like gunshots.
"Tiffany, wait!" Carla, my only ally tonight, called after me.
But I couldn’t stop. Not here. Not now.
Outside, the cool night air hit me like a balm and a whip all at once.
My chest heaved as I stumbled into the garden, the towering hedges offering a fragile semblance of privacy.
My mind raced. The footage. What did he have? Could he truly destroy my father’s reputation?
"You’re stronger than this," I whispered to myself, my voice trembling with the effort to believe it.
Nathaniel wanted me broken, humiliated. He wanted to prove that I was powerless against him.
But he was wrong.
"You’ll pay for this, Nathaniel," I muttered, my voice gaining strength.
The sound of footsteps snapped my attention back.
"Running away already?"
I turned sharply, and there he was, leaning casually against the archway like he owned the world.
"Leave me alone, Nathaniel."
"Now, why would I do that?" he asked, stepping closer. "The fun’s just getting started."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. My breath hitched as he tapped the screen, his expression triumphant.
"Recognize this?"
My heart stopped as the screen lit up with a video.
My father, seated at a dimly lit table, an envelope sliding into his hand.
"What do you want from me?" I demanded, my voice cracking.
"Oh, Tiffany." Nathaniel’s smirk deepened. "I don’t want anything. I just enjoy watching you squirm."
My fists clenched. Anger surged through me, drowning the fear for a moment.
"You think this will break me?"