Chapter 3: Power Plays (And The Game Begins)

The night was long, restless. Every time I closed my eyes, those pictures flashed in my mind—those blank stares, those lifeless eyes. And then there were the contracts, binding those women to something unspeakable. Something Tate Mercer was at the center of.

But I'm not just going to sit on this. I'm done being the girl who hides, who lets life push her around. No, this time, I'm fighting back. I'm going to confront him. I'm going to make him pay—literally. 

The morning air is thick with tension as I step into Mercer Industries, the evidence weighing heavily in my pocket. I feel like everyone can see it, like the guilt is written all over my face, but I keep my head high, forcing my feet to carry me to the elevator. To him.

The ride up to the executive floor feels like an eternity. My stomach turns with nerves, but I shove them down. I have to do this. For the first time in my life, I'm going to take control.

When I reach Tate's office, the door is closed, but I don't hesitate. I knock, just once, before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

He's there, behind his desk, looking every bit the powerful CEO—perfect suit, cold expression, and those eyes that seem to see right through you. But today, they don't intimidate me. Not anymore.

"Yes?" he says, glancing up from his computer. "What brings you here? More cleaning to do?"

"Not exactly," I reply, keeping my voice steady despite the fear rolling in my tummy. I close the door behind me, locking us in. 

Tate raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "So, what is it then?"

I take a deep breath, pulling the photos from my pocket and tossing them onto his desk. "These," I say, my heart pounding in my chest. "I found them last night. In your secret room."

He doesn't even flinch. Instead, he glances down at the photos, picking one up and examining it like it's nothing more than a piece of art. "You've been snooping," he says in a light and almost amused tone.

"I want money," I blurt out, the words spilling from my mouth before I can second-guess myself. "A lot of it. In exchange for my silence."

Tate looks up at me, his lips twitching into what might be the beginning of a smile. "You're blackmailing me, janitor?"

"Yes," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "You're running a goddamn sex ring, and I have proof. Pay me, or I go to the police."

He chuckles in a low and dangerous tone that sends shivers down my spine. "And what makes you think the police would believe you? A janitor with no connections, no credibility?"

"I have the evidence," I insist, trying to hold my ground. "And I'll use it."

He stands up then, slowly, deliberately, and walks around the desk, coming to a stop right in front of me. He's close now, too close, and I can see the glint of something dark and twisted in his eyes.

"Do you know what happens to people who threaten me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

My heart races, but I force myself to meet his gaze. "I'm not scared of you."

"Really?" he murmurs, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from my face. The touch is gentle, almost tender, but there's nothing kind about it. "You should be."

His eyes roam my body from top to down and I feel the heat getting more visible on my face. "What's the name?"

"Cadence." I say, almost like a protective shield.

"Ah, what a name…" His hand drops to his side, and he takes a step back, his expression shifting from amused to something far more menacing. "You think you're in control here, Cadence? You think you can just walk in, make demands, and walk out with a pocket full of cash?"

He moves so quickly I barely see it coming. One moment he's in front of me, the next his hand is gripping my wrist, pulling me towards him. I stumble, nearly losing my balance, but he doesn't let go.

"You've made a mistake," he says in a dangerously low timbre. "A big one."

My heart pounds in my chest as I try to pull away, but his grip tightens. "Let go of me," I hiss, my voice shaking with anger and fear.

He doesn't listen. Instead, he yanks me closer, his other hand reaching for the buttons on his shirt. He unfastens them one by one, his eyes never leaving mine, until the shirt hangs open, revealing the skin under.

My breath catches in my throat as I see it—the scar. A long, jagged line running from his chest to his navel. It's deep, ugly, the kind of scar that tells a story. And suddenly, I understand why he hides it, why I've heard that no one has ever seen him shirtless.

But why is he showing me?

"You're the first," he says, his voice softening slightly, but there's still that edge, that threat. "The first to see what I really am."

I can't look away, can't move. The power dynamics have shifted, and I'm no longer in control. I've awakened something in him, something dark and dangerous, and I have no idea how to stop it.

His hand releases my wrist, and he steps back, buttoning his shirt as if nothing happened. "You want money, Cadence? You'll get it. But this—" he gestures to his chest— "this stays between us. And if you ever try to pull a stunt like this again, I'll ruin you. Do you understand?"

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. I should feel victorious, but all I feel is dread and fear. I've crossed a line, and there's no going back.

$$$—$$$

That evening, I'm on edge, every sound making me jump. I've done something reckless, something stupid, and I know I'm going to pay for it. But I didn't expect it to happen so soon.

I'm back in the office, cleaning late again—because of course I have to keep working, even after what happened—when I hear the footsteps. They're slow, deliberate, echoing through the empty halls. 

My heart skips a beat, and I glance around, but there's no one. I force myself to keep cleaning, trying to ignore the growing fear in my chest.

And then I hear it—a voice, smooth and mocking.

"Well, well, if it isn't the little janitor with big dreams."

I turn around, and there he is—Ashwin Parker, Tate's best friend, the one who's always hanging around him like a second shadow. He's leaning against the wall, watching me with a twisted smile that makes my skin crawl.

"What do you want?" I snap, trying to keep my voice steady.

Ash pushes off the wall, slowly walking towards me. "You've made quite the impression, you know that? Blackmailing Tate Mercer? Ballsy move."

"Get out of my way," I say, trying to sound braver than I feel.

He doesn't budge. Instead, he steps closer, invading my space, his eyes raking over me in a way that makes my stomach churn. "You really think you're in control here, don't you?"

"I said, get out of my way," I repeat, my voice rising.

He laughs in a low and cruel pitch. "You're not in control, sweetheart. You never were. And now, you're going to learn just how powerless you really are."

Before I can react, he grabs me roughly. I struggle, panic rising in my chest, but he's too strong. He pushes me against the wall and pins me, his breath hot against my skin.

"Let go of me!" I shout, my voice breaking with fear.

Ash smirks, his grip tightening. "What's the matter, janitor? Not so tough now, are you?"

Tears blur my vision as I try to fight him off, but it's useless. He's bigger, stronger, and he's enjoying every second of this.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, it's over. He releases me, stepping back with a satisfied grin. "Consider this a warning," he says, his tone dripping with condescension. "Next time, you might not be so lucky."

He walks away, leaving me shaken and terrified, my body trembling with the aftershock of what just happened.

I slide down the wall, my knees giving out, and bury my face in my hands. I've never felt so helpless, so exposed. And I know, deep down, that this is just the beginning.

I'm in way over my head, and now, I have no idea how to get out.