Chapter 35 Pulling strings

Chapter 35 Pulling strings
Trisha’s POV

By the time we finished the glass of tequila he poured—or the three we ended up taking after it—I had learned more about him than I ever expected to. His name was Elias Carter, and he wasn’t just Tom’s quiet neighbor. He had reach, the type of influence you only hear about but never meet. Media, connections, access—real access. He was the kind of person people answered on the first ring.
And the more he talked, the more I realized he wasn’t some socially awkward kid hiding behind a laptop. He was a big shot. Honestly? Bigger than Tom. Almost on the level of the CEO Tom worships like a god.
And he liked me. I didn’t need him to say it. It was obvious in the way he watched every movement I made like he was trying to memorize it. Obvious in how careful he was with his words. Obvious in how he tried not to stare and failed every time.
Since he was already on my radar and clearly into me, I figured there was no harm in exploring it. Slowly. I wasn’t going to give in right away—men lose interest when things are too easy. But I wasn’t going to push him away either. Not when he was this useful. Not when he made my fiancé look like background noise compared to someone who actually listened.
He refilled my glass again, and I didn’t stop him. The tequila was warm, sharp, and steady down my throat. Easier than thinking about the mess I was in.
“You know,” I said, watching him over the rim of the cup, “you’re a lot more interesting than I thought.”
His eyes flicked up. “Is that a good thing?”
“It depends,” I said. “On how close you plan to stand.”
He didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned a little closer, like his body forgot he was supposed to be shy around me.
Probably the alcohol making him even bolder.
Speaking of alcohol… I decided to exploit it. I don’t get drunk easily, but tonight, I let myself play the part. Each sip became an opportunity, a performance. I slurred my words just enough, let my gaze linger a little longer than necessary, and tilted my head like I was losing myself in the warmth of the tequila.
“You’re… such a good person,” I said, voice soft, voice slightly unsteady, leaning forward just enough to seem vulnerable. “You care so much about me, even though you don’t have to. And I… I wish Tom was more like you. I wish I realized things about him sooner, so I wouldn’t be stuck… like I’m constantly trying to fix what isn’t worth fixing. But… life’s shitty like that, isn’t it?”
He shifted, moved a chair closer to me, sliding it in with quiet decisiveness. His hand found mine, fingers brushing over the back of my hand as if he were anchoring himself to reality—or to me.
“You… you don’t have to be with Tom,” he said, voice low, nervous, but firm at the edges. “I know this is sudden, and weird, and maybe even awkward, but—”
He swallowed, mustering courage.
“I’ve had the biggest crush on you since you started coming around here. I know I’m not Tom, I know I’m not… anything like him. But if you left him… even if you just gave me a chance… I’d treat you right. I’d give you everything. Anything you want.”
His thumb brushed over my knuckles, like he was staking a claim he wasn’t sure he was allowed to make.
I let a slow, teasing smile tug at my lips.
I leaned into the moment, letting him think the alcohol had loosened me when, in reality, I was pulling all the strings.
“I really understand,” I said, fingers still under his thumb. “I hear you. But things are different for me. I have a fiancé.”
His reaction was immediate. He leaned even closer, eyes fixed on me like he refused to hear the word fiancé and accept it.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” he said quietly. “You could just… break things off.”
“Break things off,” I repeated, almost laughing. “Things might be easy for you guys. For men. You break up, you move on, nobody asks questions, nobody cares. But for us? People mock us. They humiliate us. They treat us like we failed at something basic. And maybe even worse than humiliation—doors close. Opportunities disappear. Everything I built could fall apart overnight.”
I looked away, letting the weight of it settle. “At this point in my life, everything is already falling apart. I can’t afford one more mistake.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. I watched the realization hit him. He understood the part he’d skipped over.
He leaned back slowly, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor before looking up at me again. “Alright,” he said. “If you’re not ready to leave him, that’s your choice. I won’t push it.”
Then he lifted his chin a little. “But if you ever change your mind… just know I’m capable. I meant every word.”
“Capable of what?” I asked.
He didn’t look away. “Capable of doing what you need. Protecting you. Fixing what he breaks. Handling whatever she throws at you.”
I straightened. “Speaking of her… did you actually do what I asked you to do?”
He almost smiled. “I did. It’s everywhere. And nobody can take it down. My program won’t let anyone take it off the internet. Even if the owner of the platform tries to take it down himself, it won’t budge. Not for at least the next forty-eight hours.”
My heart kicked hard. “Forty-eight hours?”
He nodded. “That’s enough time for the whole thing to escalate. Enough time for it to blow up in your favor. You wanted her exposed, right? Well, now everyone’s going to see it. She can’t deny it. She can’t bury it. She can’t run from it.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes. Oh my god. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “Like I told you… I’ll do anything for you.”
I felt my lips curl, unhurried, controlled, pleased.
Now, I didn’t doubt that for one second.