Unmasked

Sharon approached Jessy and Christopher, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Her presence was commanding, as always, and I felt my stomach twist with unease. 

"What's going on here, Chris?" Sharon asked, her voice calm but laced with curiosity. 

I stiffened. *Oh no.* 

My heart raced as I stood with my back to them, doing everything I could to avoid Sharon's gaze. If she saw me—if she recognized me—everything would unravel in seconds. She would reveal my identity to these fools without a second thought. 

Jessy's dramatic sobs filled the air, and I didn't have to look to know what was coming next. 

"Are you okay, Jessy? You look like you've been through hell," Sharon said, her voice carrying a note of concern. "Who did this to you?" 

I closed my eyes, silently willing Jessy to keep her mouth shut. But, of course, she didn't. 

"She did," Jessy said, her voice trembling with exaggerated pain as she pointed in my direction. 

I felt Sharon's gaze land on me, her curiosity sharpening. 

"Olivia?" Sharon's voice was closer now, her footsteps echoing as she made her way toward me. 

*Oh no, oh no, oh no.* 

Panic clawed at my chest. There was no way out of this. I was trapped, and Sharon was about to blow my carefully constructed cover. 

But just as Sharon got closer, the sound of a motorcycle engine roared through the air. 

I turned in time to see the bike screech to a stop in front of the bodyguards. The rider, dressed in black with a helmet obscuring his face, shouted, "Get on!" 

I didn't hesitate. My instincts kicked in, and I climbed onto the bike quickly. The bodyguards were too slow to react, their shouts drowned out by the roar of the engine as the motorcycle sped out of the company premises. 

The wind whipped against my face, and my heart pounded as I clung to the rider. Only when we came to a stop in front of Golden Estate did I let out a shaky breath. 

"Thank you," I said, sliding off the bike. 

The rider removed his helmet, and my jaw dropped. "Clinton?" 

He smirked, running a hand through his hair. "You don't have to thank me, Livia. I'm just doing my job as your assistant." 

Relief flooded through me, followed by a wave of embarrassment. "It's you, Clinton? Oh my—I thought it was someone else!" I admitted honestly, shaking my head. 

Clinton chuckled, his expression calm and composed. He was the one person I could always count on, the one who managed everything in my company with precision. 

Feeling steadier, I approached the estate's entrance and pulled out my ID card, showing it to the security guard stationed there. 

The guard looked at me, his face twisting into an expression of disdain that I couldn't quite understand. 

"Can you just open the gate?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the frustration bubbling inside me. "I've shown you my ID. What else do you want before I can enter my home?" 

The guard didn't move. His posture was stiff, his jaw set as he glared at me. 

"Miss Olivia," he said, his tone clipped, "I don't want to get into trouble with the Boyd family. Please leave. You don't belong here." 

I stared at him, momentarily stunned. "Excuse me?" 

His words sank in like a slap to the face. He wasn't just refusing me entry—he was outright dismissing me as if I didn't matter. 

"Do you know how much I paid for the rent here?" I demanded, anger flaring in my chest. "You have no right to block me from entering my own home!" 

The guard's lips curled into a sarcastic smile. "Everyone knows there's no way you could afford this place without a sugar daddy. You're too pretty to be living here on your own. Must be nice, sleeping with other people's husbands." 

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My fists clenched at my sides as I fought to keep my composure. 

"So now I'm being called a whore in my own home?" I said, my voice trembling with barely contained rage. "This is beyond serious." 

"I don't care what you think of me," I said, stepping forward, "but you have no right to block my way." 

Before I could take another step, the guard shoved me back with enough force to make me stumble. 

I would have hit the ground if Clinton hadn't caught me, his arms steadying me before I could fall. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with concern. 

I nodded, brushing myself off as my anger boiled over. 

Clinton walked toward the guard, his posture radiating authority. He glanced at the ID badge hanging around the man's neck. 

"Samuel Nathan," Clinton said, his voice sharp. 

The guard faltered, his confidence wavering under Clinton's intense gaze. 

Without missing a beat, Clinton pulled out his phone and made a quick call. "I want Samuel Nathan fired immediately," he said, his tone firm and unyielding. "This is an order from Livia." 

I blinked, momentarily stunned by Clinton's decisiveness. He was saving me the effort of dealing with this mess myself. 

The guard's laughter broke the silence. "Now you're pretending to be some mighty, well-connected boss?" he sneered, his tone dripping with mockery. 

Clinton's expression didn't waver. "Pretending?" he repeated, his voice dangerously quiet. "You'll find out just how real her power is soon enough." 

I stepped forward, my anger flaring again. "You think you can judge me based on your assumptions?" I said, my voice cold and cutting. "You think you know me because of what I look like? Let me make one thing clear—you have no idea who I am or what I'm capable of." 

The guard's smirk faltered, but he quickly masked it with a scoff. 

"Let's go, Livia," Clinton said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "He's not worth your time." 

But the guard refused to leave the gate, you can't enter unless Mr. Chin himself come