Chapter 18: He'll Kill You Without Second Guessing

“You look mid as fuck. You could do better for a woman of your status— you're my wife for godsake.” Carlos continued.

Cynthia’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Carlos turned on his heel, retreating toward the door. He paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t do anything that’ll make me regret this.” With that, he disappeared into the adjoining suite, leaving Cynthia alone.

She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. The night ahead would be hers, free from the suffocating walls of the estate— even if only for a few hours.

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Moments Later...

The hum of Cynthia's phone rattling against the marble sink in her private restroom drew her attention. The bold letters spelling out Brian on the screen flashed insistently, breaking the silence. She picked it up, answering without hesitation.

“Hey, what’s up, girl?” Cynthia’s voice held a casual excitement, her lips curling into a faint smile as she leaned closer to the expansive mirror. Her fingers lightly adjusted the final touch of her sparkling makeup.

“Uh, not much, but I’ve got a little problem,” Brian’s voice crackled over the line, irritation laced in her tone.

Cynthia frowned, her brows knitting slightly. “Problem? What do you mean?"

“I’m at the entrance,” Brian sighed. “But your security team isn’t exactly rolling out the red carpet. They’re refusing to let me in.”

™Is that so?" Cynthia let out a sharp exhale, shaking her head. “I figured they might act up.” She rolled her eyes, her tone taking on a more authoritative edge. “Give one of them your phone.”

“Got it,” Brian replied. The faint sound of muffled voices on Brian’s end followed, and Cynthia could hear her friend trying to convince the security men to take the phone.

"Who is this?” A deep voice greeted her over the line, thick with disdain and an almost mocking edge.

“This is 'the lady of this house',” she replied, keeping her tone steady despite the annoyance bubbling beneath the surface.

The man chuckled, the sound grating on her nerves. “Which house? Which lady?” he sneered. Laughter erupted in the background, echoing through the receiver. “We’ve got more than one ‘lady in this house' so speak clearly to me...”

The blatant disrespect made Cynthia’s grip on the phone tighten. “The Cynthia who signs your paycheck,” she snapped, her voice cold as steel. “Now let her in.”

The man hesitated. “We can’t just—”

“Enough!” Cynthia cut him off, switching the call to video and holding the phone up so her face filled the screen. “Take a good look. Do you know who you’re speaking to now?”

The man’s expression shifted instantly, fear replacing the smugness. “Apologies, ma’am,” he stammered, gesturing to his team to open the gates. “Just following protocol, you know. Security procedures.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Cynthia snapped, ending the call with a sharp tap.

Brian’s car, an unassuming Toyota Corolla, eased past the now-open gates. Cynthia could still hear her friend muttering under her breath as the line remained connected.

“I'll never comprehend how do you deal with all this non sense every day without losing it—” Brian let's out.

Cynthia sighed, running a hand through her perfectly styled curls. “Sometimes, I’m not sure I do.”

The car came to a halt near the front entrance. Cynthia slipped her phone into her clutch, taking a moment to smooth the glittering fabric of her gown. It clung to her curves like a second skin, the silvery shimmer catching the dim light of the grand driveway.

Brian stepped out of the car, her eyes widening as she took in the estate’s magnificence— the manicured trees, the perfectly aligned flowers, and the towering columns framing the grand entrance.

“Damn,” Brian muttered, shaking her head.

Cynthia descended the steps gracefully, her heels clicking against the polished marble. She slid into the passenger seat, flashing an apologetic smile. “Sorry about the guards.”

Brian shrugged, brushing it off. “It’s fine. They’re just doing their job. No big deal.”

Cynthia tilted her head, taking in Brian’s look— a sleek, simple black dress that hugged her frame with understated elegance. “You look amazing,” Cynthia said sincerely.

“Not as amazing as you,” Brian shot back, her gaze lingering on Cynthia’s glittering skin and gown. “Damn, you’re glowing. And don’t even get me started on that dress!”

Cynthia’s smile wavered. “But carlos said it’s terrible,” she admitted softly, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice.

Brian’s brow furrowed. “Terrible?” she echoed, incredulous. “Well, fuck him. Your husband needs his eyes checked, seriously.”

“Shush!” Cynthia hissed, waving her hand frantically as she glanced toward the security cameras mounted near the building. Her eyes darted nervously.

Brian smirked, leaning back in her seat. “What? I’m not scared of him.”

“Maybe you should be,” Cynthia whispered, her tone grave.

Brian started to reply, but Cynthia shook her head firmly, signaling that it wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. With thay, Brian turned the key, and the engine purred to life.

The car rolled down the winding driveway, the city lights reflecting faintly off the polished metal. Brian’s grip on the wheel tightened as she glanced over at Cynthia. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cynthia replied, forcing a smile. “Be more careful when you're around the house— Carlos is not a man to be messed with.”

"He'll kill you without second guessing."