Chapter 530

Chapter 530

Right...

The act.

They'd agreed in the basement—he was Beatrice's lovesick boyfriend, who'd lashed out at Alexander after a fight with Beatrice, drunk and impulsive.

All motives had to circle back to heartbreak and impulse. Nothing else. Especially no mention of the Viper organization or his old grudge against Zoey.

Watching Beatrice's tears stream down, hearing her accusations, that stubborn resentment toward Zoey suddenly got crushed under something more immediate: fear. The raw instinct to survive.

Right. He was Beatrice's boyfriend now.

He had to keep playing the part. It was the only way to stay alive.

"...Beatrice," Harold rasped.

His face burned where she'd slapped him, but he forced out a pained, guilty expression and reached for her hand. She jerked away, heartbroken.

He pulled back awkwardly, head down, voice thick with remorse. "I'm sorry. I'm a piece of garbage. I lost my mind. I shouldn't have... I just—I had too much to drink, I was upset, and I did something stupid. I know I screwed up. I really know I screwed up..."

The confession came out stilted, his performance over-the-top, but at least it pulled the script back on track.

Beatrice exhaled silently. At least he wasn't completely hopeless.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, turned, and faced Zoey's direction, slipping back into that mournful, pleading mask.

"Ms. King, you heard him. He really knows he was wrong."

"He's a brainless idiot who got used. Someone fed him drinks, whispered a few things in his ear, and he forgot who he was..."

"He had no idea what it meant to go after Mr. Garcia. It was just a moment of stupidity—a mistake he can't take back..."

She stepped forward, bowing slightly, her posture humble to the extreme.

"Ms. King, Mr. Garcia, please—I've been searching for him for so long. Please give him one more chance."

"I promise I'll keep him in line. He'll never appear in front of you again. He'll never do anything to hurt Mr. Garcia again."

"Please... let him come back with me. Whatever conditions you want, we'll meet them. We'll pay whatever compensation you ask!"

Beatrice's plea sounded heartfelt. Anyone who didn't know better might actually feel a twinge of sympathy.

Unfortunately for her, she was facing Zoey.

Zoey listened in silence, her expression unmoved—almost bored.

"Beatrice, who the hell do you think you are?"

Beatrice's face froze.

"Why would I give you that kind of respect?"

The question was blunt and brutal, like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.

Beatrice bit down hard on her lower lip, barely holding her crumbling expression together. Inside, though, she was a storm of rage, cursing Zoey and that damned Viper organization a thousand times over.

She knew it.

Zoey didn't buy soft appeals or sob stories. She wouldn't show mercy just because someone claimed to be in love.

So why did Viper send her here?

They knew it was a trap and shoved her in anyway.

Harold's mess—why did she have to clean it up? Why risk exposing her identity for this?

The crushing weight of it all nearly suffocated her. She stood there, trapped, with no idea how to keep the performance going.

The tension thickened. The silence was suffocating.

Then, hurried footsteps and a bright, girlish voice suddenly echoed from the corridor connecting to the main house:

"Zoey, Alexander—why are you all in the back yard? What... what's going on?"

Everyone turned.

Tamsin appeared in a pale yellow sundress, practically fluttering like a butterfly as she jogged through the corridor toward the yard.

Her face was lit with the easy joy of someone just home from an outing. She clearly hadn't expected this scene. The moment she spotted Harold on the lawn—bound and battered—and Beatrice with tears streaming down her face, she stopped in her tracks, eyes wide.

She hurried to Zoey's side, looping her arm through Zoey's, confusion and concern flooding her wide eyes. "Zoey, what happened? Who is this guy? Why is he tied up out here? And Beatrice... why is she crying?"

Alexander frowned slightly, glancing at his cousin. "Tamsin, not now."

His tone wasn't harsh, but it left no room for argument.

Tamsin shrank back and clamped her mouth shut, though her eyes kept darting around curiously.

Zoey patted the back of Tamsin's hand gently, signaling her to stay calm, but didn't explain.

Daniel, who'd been following a step behind Tamsin, approached as well.

He was more observant than Tamsin. One glance and he knew something was off. He saw the marks on Harold's body, the restraints on his wrists.

His gaze flicked briefly over Zoey and Alexander. He understood.

"Tamsin," Daniel said gently, reaching for her arm. "Let's go back inside. Alexander and Zoey are handling something."

Tamsin resisted. "But—"

"Listen." Daniel tugged her closer, lowering his voice and giving her a meaningful look. "Don't interrupt them."

Tamsin followed his gaze to Zoey. Zoey's expression was calm, clearly in control of whatever was happening.

Then she looked at Alexander. His face said everything.

This was Zoey's business. Alexander was backing her up.

Zoey wasn't some pushover. If she needed help or wanted them involved, she'd say so.

Right now? She wanted to handle it herself.

Tamsin was playful, but she wasn't dumb. She immediately stopped asking questions, stuck her tongue out in the direction of Beatrice and Harold, and let Daniel lead her back toward the house.

Once they were out of earshot, Tamsin tugged on Daniel's sleeve, voice urgent and full of gossip. "Daniel, what's going on? Who's that guy tied up? Did he piss off Alexander? And Beatrice—why is she here? Why is she crying like that? Does she know him?"

Daniel didn't slow down, guiding her forward. "I asked the butler. The guy's name is Harold. He tried to assassinate Alexander."

"What?!" Tamsin nearly jumped, her voice spiking.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes huge. "He tried to kill Alexander?! Is he insane?! No way. I'm going back to kick his ass!"

She spun around.

Daniel caught her arm with a half-laugh, half-sigh. "What are you gonna do—cause a scene? Didn't you see Alexander and Zoey aren't saying anything? They've got a plan."

Tamsin struggled briefly, couldn't break free, and pouted. "But that bastard tried to kill Alexander! We're just gonna let him go?"

"Who said anything about letting him go?" Daniel shook his head, patient. "You think Zoey's gonna let someone who tried to hurt Alexander walk away? She brought Harold here. She made sure Beatrice was present. She's got a reason. We just need to stay out of it and not mess up her plan."

Tamsin thought about it and relented, though she was still fuming. "Then what's Beatrice's deal? Is she really dating that Harold guy?"

"She's not even the real Beatrice—she's Cleo! She got plastic surgery, changed her identity, and came crawling back. She's definitely up to no good. What if she's plotting something to hurt Zoey again? That Cleo—she's like a ghost that won't go away. She's shameless!"

Daniel listened to her indignant rant, his expression softening. He ruffled her hair gently. "Don't worry. Zoey's not stupid. She knows exactly what kind of person Beatrice is."

"And Harold's no saint either. Those two together? They're probably both scheming. Cleo thinks she can use Harold to get out of this—or get something else out of it—but it's not gonna be that easy."

He paused, glancing back toward the yard, his gaze sharpening slightly, tone thoughtful.

"Besides... I have a feeling this isn't as simple as it looks."

"Anyway, let it go. You finished filming your scenes. You came back to rest, remember?"