Fake This Love

Chapter 27: MJ

MJ knew this was stupid. The plan careened past brazen and into the land of idiotic. He didn't have to be the one to crack open Sarawat's safe and pocket the prized engagement contract.

It would be safer for him to stay far away from the mansion and let his goons do the work. But he couldn't pass up on the chance to be there. He wanted the rush of dealing the death blow to the Chivarees. MJ wasn't built to be a bystander - not when it came to usurping power.

Jandi was against his plan but she knew better than to stand in MJ's way. Besides, as long as she was getting paid she didn't really care what happened to MJ. Neither did she really care about the fate of Sarawat or his plaything. Jandi just cared about the money.

Who can blame her? As the female offspring, it didn't matter that she was the smarter or older Yue - the family empire would still go to her blockhead brother Mil. That's the curse of being a woman. A curse she was not going to allow to deprive her of anything. There was more than one way to live the life she wanted - and you'd best believe Jandi was willing to try them all.

She gives the go-signal to MJ via a burner phone. Her hired specialists have successfully infiltrated the Chivaree mansion security system - CCTV cameras were now down, electronic doors easily picked and opened, and the finger and eye scanners guarding Sarawat and Praya's home offices have been deactivated. MJ had ten minutes to get in, find the safe, and get out.

It should be a piece of cake as the mansion was uncharacteristically empty tonight - Sarawat was in Taiwan for work, Tine was tied up in a shoot, while Praya and the staff would be preoccupied in the east garden of the house preparing for an upcoming engagement shoot.

MJ slinked through the corridors undetected. He was grinning underneath his ski mask. This was going to be so easy.

He climbs down the staircase in the east wing and hides behind a marble pillar.

He checks his wrist for the time. One minute until the body guards changed shifts. He waits, aware of each second passing by. Excitement making him impatient.

Finally, MJ sees three armed men emerge from different areas and climb up the stairs. They walkie-talkie for their replacements. MJ had a few seconds to run to the far end of the empty floor and quickly open a door marked as a utility closet. Once inside, he slides the metal shelf to the side and the whole wall opens revealing a suite of offices. This was Praya's home base. This is not only where she worked - this was also where the mansion's computer servers were located and - if rumors were to be believed - a vault filled with gold and the rarest watches.

But MJ wasn't here to steal paltry company secrets or some fucking Rolex.
He was here to become the next Sarawat Chivaree.

He walks to the plain door at the end of the marble hallway. He double checks the sensors and once he is certain they are still down, he enters. He strides quickly to the painting behind Praya's desk. He pushes it upwards to reveal a safe. All the intel gathering and the bribing had born fruit. One last step and MJ could
call for an emergency shareholder meeting. He'd finally be able to vote out his step brother.

He removes his mask and shoves it in his pocket. He activates the keypad with a stroke of his thumb and taps in the 12-digit code. The safe is still for a heart stopping moment but then MJ hears a satisfying click.

MJ wastes no time swinging the safe door open. Inside was just one folder. He reaches for it greedily, heart pumping wildly. He opens the folder  and comes face to face with a photograph of a hand flipping him off. Before MJ could process what was happening, Praya steps into the room holding a compact 9mm handgun which she trains steadily on MJ.

"My God," she says with a roll of her eyes. "How did you ever think this inane plan was going to work? How many brain cells do you have?"

An angry MJ was about to lunge at Praya but she pulls the trigger without hesitation, the bullet pierces the wall just behind MJ, almost hitting his arm.

"I see the answer to my question is obviously zero," Praya snorts. "I will shoot you and in the off chance I fail to hit you - I won't fail though, let's be clear - there are a dozen armed guards outside this room. I suggest you leave quietly."

MJ growls loudly like a cornered lion.
But he walks out of the room without any more resistance.

To anyone watching, MJ seemed to be seething in anger. But the truth was, he was shaking in fear.

- - -

MJ falls to the ground, pain piercing through every bone and nerve in his body. He was so hurt, he almost felt numb. Almost. The reprieve never lasted long. Soon steel toed boots were once again kicking him in the stomach, stomping on his groin, crushing his knees.

He wanted to beg them to stop. He wanted to grovel for his life. But his mouth was too filled with blood to get a single sound out. All he could manage to do was writhe and choke.

The hot nozzle of a gun presses against the underside of MJ's jaw. He glances up at the owner of the gun.

"Do I seem like a joke to you?"

MJ slowly shakes his head no.

"Look at me!," the man bellows.
MJ tilts his head as much as he can, his muscles all screaming now. He was going to pass out from the pain but he knew that Long Tai Luciano would only electrocute him awake so MJ fought to keep himself lucid.

"You promised me controlling shares in Thai Royale Corporation. You promised to repay your debts. Was that all talk?"

MJ shakes his head again.

"This is your final warning. You have a week to deliver on those shares. Fail and I promise you a fate worse than death. You will beg for the mercy of a bullet in your brains by the time I am done with you."

Long Tai wipes his hands and his gun with a white handkerchief, which he promptly passes on to one of his nameless cohorts.

Without warning he shoots MJ's left kneecap. MJ screams but no sound comes out.

Long Tai and his gang simply walk away, leaving MJ bleeding in the basement of his own home.

To survive this, Gorya would need to find him. And once she does, she and his in-laws would learn of MJ's duplicity. They would learn how he squandered their millions away and had desperately begged for a loan from gangsters - or at least he thought they were lowly gangsters. People he could hoodwink and manipulate.

In hindsight, where would street thugs get two hundred million baht? Of course, they were part of the Chinese triad 14W. Of course, their Master was the ruthless Long Tai Lucian. And of course, it wasn't money they wanted in return - not that MJ could return any of it.

He lay there in his blood, pulse weakening.

This was all Sarawat's fault.

All his misery was Sarawat's fault.

That fucking non-human that he was compared to all his life was the source of all of MJ's insecurity, the reason for all his bad choices, the reason he could not be recognized for the alpha that he clearly was.

If MJ survived this, he'd make sure Sarawat would pay.