Chapter 103 Seduction
She pulled a stain remover pen from her bag.
The dark smear on the cream knit dress faded with each careful stroke, until it was almost invisible from a distance. Up close, faint traces remained, but for her, it was enough.
Inside the apartment, Terrence had just ended a transatlantic call. His fingers ran idly along the edge of his phone. On the screen was Bianca's morning message—she would be having dinner with Jasmine and coming home late.
His eyes wandered to the corner of the living room where Bianca's unfinished scrapbook materials were still piled. The sight softened his expression for a brief moment.
The apartment was silent except for the occasional whisper of air from the vents.
Terrence had just wrapped up a three-hour international meeting. Leaning against the couch, he pressed his fingers to his brow, a half-burned cigar resting between them.
The doorbell rang, sharp against the quiet.
He looked up. It lasted only a few seconds, almost like a mistake.
Tilting his head slightly, he glanced at the still phone. A prickle of curiosity settled in his gut. Without moving from his seat, he swiped the tablet screen, and the camera feed from outside came into focus.
A cream knit dress. Soft waves of hair. The figure looked almost exactly like Bianca... but something was off.
Before he could place it, the bell rang again—this time, urgent.
He stared at the image, rubbing his brow before rising to answer the door.
The moment it opened, his expression shifted from neutral to ice. A cold current flickered in his eyes, the grip on the doorknob tightening until veins stood out on the back of his hand.
Just as he was about to slam it shut, Melissa spoke quickly.
"I have something to tell you about Bianca!"
The motion stopped. Terrence's gaze swept over her from head to toe.
Cream knit dress, shoulder-length curls, pearl pendant identical to Bianca's. The smile she wore was forced, her eyes full of greed and calculation.
His stomach turned.
The air seemed to thicken. His hand stayed on the doorknob, lips pressed into a hard line, his breath edged with frost.
"Sir," Melissa began, her voice dripping with sugar, pitched low to mimic Bianca's softness, "I think you'll want to hear what I have to say."
Before he could answer, she slipped through the narrow gap like she belonged there.
Her eyes roamed the sleek interior, pausing on a framed photo of Bianca. Jealousy flickered across her face.
"Get out."
Terrence rolled his sleeves with deliberate calm. His lashes lowered, hiding his eyes, but not the fury radiating off him.
"Strip. Then get out."
His gaze crashed over her like a wave—revulsion, irritation, disgust.
Melissa lowered her head, feigning shyness. "That's... not proper."
Her hands betrayed her words, tugging at the zipper. A bare shoulder emerged into the cool air, black lace framing the swell of her chest.
The dress slid to the floor. She stood naked, eager.
Terrence turned away, nausea rising in his throat. His fingers tapped against his watch.
"I came to tell you the truth," Melissa said.
"Bianca is just a student, but she takes all the luxury gifts you give her. She wants to be kept by you."
He didn't respond. Emboldened, Melissa stepped forward.
"Stop."
The command froze her, but not her tongue.
"With your status, a woman like Bianca—pretending to be modest—will never satisfy you. I'm different. I can learn whatever you like, do whatever you want. And I've never been with a man before."
She licked her lips, hunger plain.
Her attempt at seduction turned his stomach.
His brow furrowed, throat tight, holding back the urge to spit her out.
"I'll say it one last time. Get out."
His tapping on the watch grew sharper.
"I have plenty of skills in bed. You really don't want to find out?"
The door slammed open, metal striking the wall with a heavy thud. Men in black suits flooded in, Barry close behind, breathing hard.
Melissa's face drained of color. She clutched her chest, fumbling to pull the dress back on.
"Who are you? Why are you here?"
Terrence turned, his eyes full of unmasked contempt, like he was looking at trash.
"Cut her tongue out. Throw her out."
His voice was cold, the words casual, almost bored.
He tugged at his tie, violence radiating off him like a brewing storm.
The guards moved in, iron grips locking around Melissa's arms.
Her makeup smeared under tears. She screamed, struggling. "I was wrong! I won't come back! Please!"
Terrence lounged back on the couch, arms spread, legs crossed, gaze unyielding.
"She's a virgin. Give her to them. Drug her. Film it. Send the video to her family so they can see exactly how their precious daughter pleases a man."
Melissa crumpled to the floor, terror hollowing her gaze.
"Sir, please... I know I was wrong. Spare me."
He adjusted his cuff. "Why would I?"
His eyes flicked to the guards.
They yanked at her dress. The fabric tore under rough hands. Melissa clutched at the scraps, voice shaking.
"I'm Bianca's best friend! She's not innocent—yesterday she was with the campus golden boy in the library, today she had lunch with the basketball captain. She flirts with men! I can watch her for you, report everything she does!"
Terrence lifted a hand, stopping the guards. He looked down at her, voice colder. "Is that true?"
Melissa nodded frantically, tears mixing with snot. "Absolutely! We used to share a dorm. I know everything she does. Just let me go and I'll tell you her schedule every day!"
He stayed silent.
He remembered the start of the semester—Melissa close to Bianca, almost inseparable. His gaze dropped to the identical outfit she wore, disgust flashing in his eyes.
Does Bianca know what her friend has done? Would she be hurt?
If he punished Melissa, would Bianca blame him?
His fingers tapped against the couch, eyes deep.
"I recall the east lot is short on hands."
"Mr. Anderson, the work there is filthy and grueling. Even men can't take it. And there are almost no women," Barry said quietly.
"Send her. Ten hours a day minimum. Watch her—don't let her slack off." His gaze sliced toward Melissa, voice like ice. "And keep her safe. Don't let anyone drag her off."
The guards hauled her up.
"Mr. Anderson, I can't! I won't do hard labor!" she cried, thrashing.
"Sounds like you'd rather be mute," Terrence said, eyes narrowing.
Melissa went still.
They dragged her out.
A brief silence hung before Barry spoke. "Mr. Anderson, should I look into what she just said?"