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— 𖤐 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕 :
As much as I hate to admit it, the bastard was right.
Mrs. Raven had indeed stabbed me in the fucking back.
I can't believe that woman had such wicked plans swirling in her mind. I still don't know who the traitor is that she conspired with to orchestrate my downfall, but I'll uncover that soon enough.
What I can't wrap my head around is what Mrs. Raven stands to gain from my ruin.
I had no personal grudge against her; we weren't rivals in any sense. Her company was far more influential than mine, so why would she go for my throat?
The fury that coursed through me when I discovered the scheming she was plotting through my intel was almost blinding.
What could she possibly gain by humiliating me at my own damn party?
One thing is clear: I won't let this slide. I've devised the perfect plan to outsmart her and turn her game back on her. I will ruin her, without a doubt.
"A 'thank you' wouldn't be so hard, would it?" Hunter smirked, swirling his drink in his glass, and I scowled at him as we stood amidst the crowd of important business delegates at my party.
I didn't want to admit that the motherfucker was right, but I reluctantly had to because I needed his help.
Yet, I still didn't trust him one bit. How the hell did he figure out Mrs. Raven's true intentions? The nonsense he spewed yesterday in my office didn't sound convincing at all.
I mean, he's my rival; I have no reason to trust him. But hell, I can't deny I'm in a tight spot, and if he's offering a hand, I might as well grab it.
"Even after I helped you and proved that I actually think of you as my bestie, you're still giving me that icy glare. I'm hurt, Malik!" He places his palm dramatically on his chest, feigning shock, and I can't help but roll my eyes at his theatrics.
"I don't believe you." I say coldly, before clearing my throat. "But I appreciate the help you're giving me with this plan to take down Mrs. Raven."
"The pleasure is all mine, bestie."
"Fuck off, I'm not your damn bestie." I groan and he grins at me like the shithead he is, clearly savouring every drop of my irritation.
Then suddenly his playful facade slips away as he adopts a serious expression.
He hesitates, and why do I feel like he's about to drop some bullshit on me.
I've had this gut feeling since I stepped into this damn party that something's going wrong, and something massively fucked up is about to go down. That feeling only gets worse, increasing tenfold
"Okay, so I don't know if you'll believe—"
"Zayran." The sweet, elegant voice cuts through the tension, and my attention immediately snaps to my wife, who strides toward us with an air of grace that instantly commands the room.
