Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
My heart leaps in my chest as I push the chair back and head toward the fireplace with the notepad. I sit down on the rock hearth and dip my index finger into the leftover ash. Then, I lightly dust over the notebook page. A grin tugs at my lips as I begin to see letters form. Caius writes with a firm hand, so the indentation leftover has left clues for me.
V.
E.
I.
L.
VEIL.
I stare at the letters, knowing exactly what they mean. Veil Media Group, or VMG, is the global media conglomerate my father owns. I’m sure it didn’t take long for the Crownes to discover just how powerful my family is. It’s apparent that’s why I’m in this situation, being manipulated into believing I’m dating Caius. They’re trying hard to cover up Theo’s mistake. How many others have slipped into the Crowne trap but have no power in this world?
Megan.
She’s just a nobody to them.
Someone they can take advantage of and make disappear.
I don’t know why, but I’m going to find out.
Continuing my dusting along the page, another word stands out.
Calista.
Another company or program or a name?
There’s nothing else useful on my search, nor do the other pages reveal anything. After cleaning my finger on my pants, I tear off the dirtied page on top. The notebook gets placed back into the drawer, but I hold onto the paper.
I make my way over to the bookshelf and peruse the books there. There are several military strategy and political books, an entire set of ancient encyclopedias, a few books written in foreign languages, and even a book on the Illuminati.
It makes me wonder if anyone decided to take on that conspiracy theory for our class project. Seems like eons ago that I was sitting in class, the only worry on my mind being that I had to go back to New York for Christmas.
A book on propaganda and psychological warfare catches my eye. I pull it from its spot and thumb through it. It’s filled with clinical case studies of manipulation tactics used by the government, military, and media. Caius probably has the thing memorized. I fold the piece of notebook paper and place it on the chapter that’s called “Psychological Operations AKA Psyop.” Then I place the book back on the shelf upside down between two other books.
If he wants to mess with me, I’ll do the same to him.
Drug me all you want, Caius, but you’ll never fully erase me.
Feeling better than I have since I woke up, I make my way back to the bedroom. The time for crying and feeling sorry for myself is over. They may have control over my phone, but my mind is too complicated for them to twist to their nefarious desires. I’m not some case study in the book—a mindless sheep who sleeps in a den of wolves.
I’m calculating and strategic.
I like to win.
Which is why I’m changing tactics starting now. No more defense. Only offense from here on out.
After a long, hot shower, where I shaved and exfoliated every part of me, I put on a full face of makeup and spend a lot of time perfectly styling my hair into bouncy golden locks.
The dress Caius asked me to wear is the only red one in the closet. It’s form-fitting and sexy, with a scoop neck that reveals my perky breasts and a long slit up the side that shows off my smooth leg. I pluck the tag off the dress and smirk.
His favorite dress I’ve never worn.
Liar.
It’s satisfying knowing I’m not completely crazy. This small confirmation is enough to give me all the confidence I need to face these monsters. I place the tag on top of his dresser in the closet next to a tray of cufflinks where Caius won’t miss the message.
What is my message to the cold snake of a man?
I’m onto your games.
You can’t be sloppy on your details around me because everything is a clue, filed away in my complicated brain, to be mined later and used while at war with you.
Sloppiness is for losers, Caius.
Romy
Red isn’t usually a color I gravitate toward, but even I can’t deny how good this dress looks on me. Gone is the haunted, terrified girl. In her place is a formidable woman playing twisted, intricate games with malicious men. I’m in battle mode.
As I pace the living room on four-inch sparkly heels, waiting for Caius to pick me up, I can’t help but think of my mother. She was always so cold and prickly. Dad too. The difference between them, though, was that Dad is always emotionless and stiff. Her aloofness seemed to only be aimed at her husband and children. I’d once walked in on a soft moment between Mom and one of Dad’s associates. She’d giggled as his hand roamed its way under her shirt. I’d seen her smile at him—wide and truly beautiful—in a way I’d never seen before.