The Pawn

The Pawn
Julien’s POV

I watched the surveillance feed from my office, a cold, detached amusement settling over me. Stracy, the little viper who had so perfectly played the role of Isabella’s loyal assistant, was in the west wing guest study, hunched over a laptop. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, a nervous, frantic energy radiating from her small frame. She had no idea the house had become a cage, and she, the supposed hunter, was the only one trapped. Cabir was safely resting under my mother's watchful eye, and my father was now a man with a legacy in ruins. It was time to deal with the last loose end.

I moved through the silent halls like a ghost. She was so convinced of her own cleverness, so blind to the fact that her every move had been a part of my own game. When I found her, she was still hunched over her laptop, the cold blue glow of the screen illuminating a face devoid of its usual sweet expression. In its place was a sharp, calculating concentration. She was in a deep hole, and she was digging with every keystroke.

"Planning an escape, Stracy?" My voice echoed in the silent room.

She froze, her head snapping up. The wide, innocent eyes she had perfected were now cold and hard. Gone was the sweet, timid assistant. In her place was a stranger, a woman I didn't know at all.

"Julien," she said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

I walked over to the desk, leaning my palms flat on the surface. "Drop the act," I said, my voice dangerously low. "We both know it’s over. We know everything. We know about Leyla. We know about my father. We know what you did to Cabir. We know you faked your friendship with Isabella to get close to her. So let's cut to the chase."

She straightened her shoulders, a defiant gleam in her eyes. "You're a fool, Julien. You think you're in control, but you're not. Your father is a master strategist. He knows everything about you. He knows every move you'll make before you make it."

My smirk was chilling. "Then he won't be surprised when I come for him. He's already a ghost to me. But I'm curious. What did he promise you? A piece of the company? Revenge? What did he give you that made you willing to betray the people who trusted you?"

"Revenge," she said, her voice a hiss. "He took everything from my family. My father... my sister and I... we lost everything because of him. And you… you’re just like him. You're both monsters, wearing nice suits and throwing money around. You deserve to lose everything, just like we did."

I felt no sympathy for her. Only cold fury. "Cabir trusted you. Isabella trusted you. You almost got them killed."

A flicker of a feeling, quick and painful, crossed her face. It might have been guilt, or maybe just regret for her failure. "I... I didn't want to hurt anyone. This was just a job. It was just a way to get what we deserved. Leyla… she was always weak. But I… I knew what I was doing. I knew the risks."

I walked over to her, a slow, deliberate stride that made her flinch. "You had a choice, Stracy. You could have left. You could have told us. But you chose to play a game you weren't meant to win. Now… it's over."

She looked at me, a mixture of fear and defiance in her eyes. "It's not over," she said, her voice shaking. "He'll never let you win. He'll destroy you and everything you love. He'll destroy her." She pointed a shaking finger at me. "Your father... he'll always win. He'll tear you apart."

I didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, I pulled out my phone and accessed the private feed of the room where Leyla was being held. I held the screen up, forcing Stracy to look.

The screen showed Leyla sitting rigidly in a chair, guarded by two massive, unsmiling security personnel. One of the men was positioned right behind Leyla, his hand firmly holding a gun that was pressed against the back of her head.

Stracy gasped, her defiance immediately crumbling into raw, terrified shock. "No! Leyla!"

I allowed a cruel, cold smile to spread across my face. "Leyla is my guest. A highly valuable guest. She is, as you said, weak. But also completely dependent on her big, strong sister. Tell me, Stracy, if I say the word 'boom,' right now, will my master strategist father be able to save her from the local police who find her body?"

Stracy's eyes, wide with terror, darted from the phone screen to my face. "He... he'll come for her! He promised! He'll protect her!"

"He promised you the world, didn't he? He promised you revenge," I scoffed, my voice dripping with scorn. "My father only cares about two things: himself and his empire. Leyla is a broken toy. An expendable piece. He would watch her die on live television if it meant avoiding the slightest inconvenience to his legacy. Now, I have your sister's life in my hand. Are you willing to risk her death for a man who would never risk a single hair on his own head for either of you?"

Tears streamed down her face, and the viper was replaced by a weeping, defeated sister. "No... please. Don't hurt her. I'll tell you everything. Just... just take the gun away."

I gave a silent signal to the men via a headset, and the gun was visibly lowered. Stracy’s body seemed to deflate in relief.

"Start talking," I commanded, pulling out another phone and placing it face-up on the desk. "Every detail. Every command. Every contact. If you lie, the gun goes back up, and I will expose your confession to the entire world before I let her go."

The confession spilled out a dark, detailed catalogue of my father's instructions, Jaimin's greedy compliance, and the deep, generational wound that fueled Stracy’s hatred. She confessed to attempting to kill me, to orchestrating the public smears, and to luring Cabir to the warehouse where Leyla and her associates had beaten him.

When she finished, broken and sobbing, I leaned back, satisfied. I picked up the second phone. "Thank you for the information, Stracy," I said, my voice flat. "This confession has been recorded. Two copies, actually. The first copy is to expose you and my father to the authorities." I pocketed the first phone. "The second copy," I continued, holding the second phone, "is for Cabir. He was foolish enough to fall in love with you. Hearing your voice detail every lie, every calculated manipulation, every piece of your cold hatred... that is the only thing that will help him finally move on from the snake he held close."

Her face went pale again, realizing that my cruelty was surgical, targeting the very core of her failure. I gave a final, dismissive gesture, and the guards entered the room to take her away.

Good that I hadn't bought Bella even though she had wanted to come along with me. She would have definately disapproved of me using the tactic that I did to make Stracy confess.