His Plaything ||18+

10. I Know What You Did

[Bianca]

I felt my body trembling in both frustration and rage. How dare he? Who the hell did he think he was? I didn't care how much money he thought he had, but he was out of his mind if he expected me to simply go down without a fight.

"B?"

"B?"

Grayson's voice almost startled me, pulling me back to the present. His hand landed gently on my shoulder, causing me to flinch in response. I looked down at my own hands, only now noticing that my fists were clenched so tight my knuckles had turned bone white. Slowly, I unclenched them, letting out a shaky breath as I tried to regain control.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, his tone soft. "Maybe just... take it easy, okay? I can stay back for a few days, and help you find somewhere new, somewhere decent. Make sure you're settled."

I took another steadying breath, watching as the movers continued packing up my things with a strange, detached focus. I barely heard Grayson as he continued speaking until he said:

"Or you could consider my offer, come to L.A."

For some reason, those words made me glare at him.

His smile dropped.

I hated this, I hated how uncontrollably my temper could be when I got anxious. "Sorry," I shook my head with a sigh. I didn't mean to seem ungrateful. I just wanted to figure out how I could get back at the bastard that framed me. I might not be as wealthy, but I could be fucking persistent when I had to be.

There was something in his eyes—sympathy. He didn't believe me. He didn't believe that the drugs weren't mine. The thought made me want to laugh, a laugh that came out disappointed. But who could blame him? I hadn't exactly been sober before my heart condition.

"You believe me, don't you?"

He gave a faint, tired smile. "B, let's just forget about that. Let's focus on getting your things safely stored. We can deal with the rest later." He managed a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

That one line confirmed my worst suspicion: he thought I was lying. I pulled away, shrugging his arm off with a sigh. "Right," I muttered, forcing myself to sound casual as if this was no big deal. I hugged my arms awkwardly, trying to keep the hurt from showing. "I just... need to make a call first." I stepped back, out of Grayson's reach, before he could say more, turning toward the man from earlier.

Grayson watched me, still concerned, but he nodded, stepping back to give me some space. I approached the lead mover, who was still lugging my belongings into boxes, his expression as uninterested as before.

"Can you give me the number of the owner?" I asked quietly, trying to keep my tone neutral. The man looked at me for a beat before shrugging and reaching into his pocket. "Funny thing, I was given the number in case you needed to talk." He teased, returning with a crumpled scrap of paper and handing it to me.

I took it, thanking him curtly, and moved a little further down the hallway to distance myself from Grayson's sharp hearing. Then I dialled the number, my pulse quickening as I waited for the line to connect. If he tried to threaten me with the drugs, I'd simply report to the police about what he did to me that night. But would they care? Would they believe me?

I just didn't want him to think that I was that easy to push around.

As soon as I heard the line pick up, I waited for a voice. For a second, I thought it was dead air, but then I sensed it—someone listening, waiting on the other end.

I lashed out without an introduction since he seemed to be expecting this call. How cocky could a person be?.

"Now look here, motherfucker, I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play, but you must be out of your damn mind! Planting drugs in my place? What are you trying to accomplish? Do you get some kind of sick thrill from messing with people's lives?" I demanded, my voice rising as I barely kept my temper in check.

There was no response. I waited, my grip tightening on the phone until my hand ached. The only sound on the line was my own ragged breathing. I was about to unleash another round of words when a deep, low voice finally responded, "I know what you've done."

My heart stopped. His tone was so calm, almost amused. I gaped, struggling to form a response. What exactly had I done? And why did he sound so confident?

"What are you talking about?" I asked calmly.

There was a long pause and I could have sworn that he'd done it to tense up the mood. My heart was racing in my chest as I thought of what his reply would be. Drugs? But most college students had done that in the past.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"Did you really think no one will find out? You're quite naive, aren't you, Bianca? Or should I say...Anna."

My mind went blank for a second, the name echoing in my ears. Anna. I didn't know anyone by that name—talk less of myself. But hearing it sent a strange chill through me, and my heart began to race for reasons I couldn't explain. I clenched my chest painfully.

"What are you talking about? I don't know anyone named Anna," I forced myself to respond.

There was a pause on the other end as if he was savouring my confusion, and then he spoke again. "I've seen the records, I know everything about you, Bianca. You're just like me, aren't you?" He added a sarcastic tone when saying my name.

"You're insane!" I let out a nervous laugh. "I don't know what kind of game this is, but you've got the wrong person."

He chuckled. "Tomorrow, two p.m—The Burge. You'll have an appointment waiting, don't be late. I suggest you be there, Bianca. It'll be a shame if anyone heard what happened to the real Miss Campbell."

Before I could get another word out, the line went dead, leaving only the hollow buzz of silence. I stared at the phone, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. Anna. The name felt familiar, but it wasn't mine.

'Could it be...' I clenched the fabric above my chest. 'Could it have been the name of my donor? Or someone from their past?'

My hand fell to my side, the phone slipping from my grip and clattering to the floor as I stumbled, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me. My vision blurred, and I began to hyperventilate. I pressed a hand against the wall, trying to breathe. Everything around me seemed to blur, the world spinning as his words replayed in my mind.

I could hear Grayson's voice, distant and concerned, calling my name.

"B? Bianca!" His voice grew sharper, but I was already falling, inches away from the ground.

My body landed with a thud and my mouth foamed as I shook violently, eyes wide, staring into nothing.