Chapter 7
Zoe sat frozen in front of her laptop, the blue light of the screen reflecting in her glassy eyes. The cursor blinked at the end of the sentence "...a testament to their enduring commitment."
It was a lie. Every word was a meticulously crafted lie designed to save Liam's skin and bury her dignity.
Her phone buzzed again. Not a text this time. A call.
Mom.
Zoe's stomach dropped. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands, and answered.
"Hi, Mom."
"Zoe!" Nora Vance's voice was shrill, practically vibrating with excitement. "Have you seen the draft? It's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."
Zoe blinked, confused. "Mom, it's a lie. Liam wasn't defending me. He was with another girl. He left me at the police station."
There was a pause on the other end. A cold, heavy silence.
"Zoe," Nora said, her tone shifting from excitement to icy pragmatism. "I don't care if he was with a circus clown. Do you understand what this statement does for us?"
"It makes me look like a fool," Zoe whispered.
"It makes you the official Sterling partner," Nora snapped. "The press will eat this up. 'Childhood sweethearts.' It cements your position. Once this goes out, the Sterlings can't back out of the engagement. It secures the merger."
"Is that all I am?" Zoe asked, her voice trembling. "A merger asset?"
"Don't be dramatic," Nora sighed. "We all have roles to play. Your father is working himself into an early grave to keep the company afloat. The least you can do is swallow your pride and secure the investment. We need that capital, Zoe. We are... liquidly challenged right now."
Liquidly challenged. A polite way of saying broke.
"But Mom, he treats me like garbage."
"He's a Sterling," Nora said simply. "Men like that have appetites. You look the other way. That's what women like us do. Now, approve the statement. And Liam's assistant says they need a video. Get ready."
The line went dead.
Zoe lowered the phone. She felt hollowed out. Her own mother didn't care about her happiness, only her utility.
She walked to the bathroom sink and splashed cold water on her face. She looked at her reflection. Dark circles under her eyes. Pale skin. She looked like a ghost.
Buzz.
Another call. It was Liam's executive assistant, Marcus.
"Ms. Vance," Marcus said, his voice smooth and professional. "Mr. Sterling is expecting you at the headquarters in an hour for the video recording. Hair and makeup are on standby."
"I... I'm not feeling well, Marcus."
"I understand," Marcus said, his tone dropping a degree. " However, your father, Mr. Vance, is currently in the conference room with our CFO discussing the bridge loan for the port logistics assets. He assured us you would be delighted to help."
It was a threat. A polite, corporate threat. Do this, or your dad doesn't get the money.
Zoe hung up. She slid down the wall until she hit the cold tile floor of the bathroom. She pulled her knees to her chest.
She was trapped. On one side, Liam's manipulation. On the other, her family's survival.
Her phone buzzed with a text. She dreaded looking at it, expecting another demand from Liam.
But it was Signal.
J: Don't let them eat you alive.
Zoe stared at the message. Tears pricked her eyes. How did he know? Did he have cameras in her brain?
She typed back, her fingers clumsy.
Z: I don't think I have a choice. My dad's loan depends on it.
Three dots appeared instantly.
J: If you don't want to do it, don't. I have a way.
Zoe's heart skipped a beat. A way? What could Julian do? He was the outcast. He had no power in the company... did he?
Z: What way?
J: Trust me. Just stall.
Stall. She could do that.
But then Marcus texted again: Car is downstairs. 5 minutes.
She couldn't stall. If she didn't go, her father would come up here and drag her out himself.
She stood up. She felt like she was walking to her execution.
She opened her makeup bag. She applied concealer to hide the exhaustion. She put on blush to fake a healthy glow. She lined her lips with a steady hand, masking the tremor inside.
She put on the dress she had bought for Easter brunch with the Sterlings-a modest, pale blue sheath dress. The "Good Girl" uniform.
As she was grabbing her purse, her eyes landed on the tin of mints Julian had given her.
She popped one into her mouth. The sharp peppermint burned her tongue, grounding her.
I have a way.
She held onto those words like a lifeline.
She walked out of the dorm. A black town car was waiting. The driver held the door open.
"To Sterling Tower, Miss?"
Zoe paused. She looked at the car, then at the city.
"Actually," she said, her voice gaining a sudden, strange clarity. "Can we make a stop first? I need coffee."
"We're on a tight schedule, Miss."
"It's on the way," she lied. "There's a cafe on 5th. Meet a friend."
The driver hesitated, then nodded. "Quickly, please."
Zoe got in. She wasn't going to just roll over. If she was going to sell her soul, she needed to arm herself first.
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