Page 37 of Stalk Me

Which means she isn't just exposing me. She's threatening to rip the country's power structure apart with no regard for who's standing closest to the wreckage. Because if the world finds out what my parents do during their lavish parties…

"Looking for something?"

I whirl around to find Belle leaning against the doorframe, her expression caught between triumph and fury. She must have doubled back after leaving. Bitch.

"Quite the collection you've got here." I hold up the folder, proud that my voice doesn't shake. "Tell me, does Daddy know you're playing private detective?"

Her eyes narrow. "Put it down."

"Or what? You'll release those photos?" I laugh, the sound sharp enough to cut. "Go ahead. You think I care if people know I fuck around? That's old news, sweetheart."

"No." She steps into the room, closing the door behind her. "But I bet you care about what happens when people start asking questions about your family. About those special parties they throw. About all the girls who seem to disappear afterward."

Ice floods my veins. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" She moves closer, each step precise as a predator stalking prey. "It's amazing what people will tell you if you ask the right questions. Pay the right people. Your parents have quite the reputation in certain circles."

"Stop." The word comes out more desperate than I intended. "Belle, you need to stop digging. You have no idea what you're getting into."

"Oh, I think I do." Her smile is all teeth, no warmth. "Did you really think you could just waltz in here and take everything from me? My boyfriend, my status, my control? I'm not some simpering freshman you can intimidate. I know how to play this game."

"This isn't a game!" I grab her arm, forcing her to look at me. "You think you're so clever with your little investigation? You're going to get people killed."

Something flickers in her eyes—uncertainty maybe, or fear. But it's quickly replaced by steel. "More threats? Please. I have enough evidence to?—"

"To what? Go to the police?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "They're already bought and paid for. The media? My parents own half the papers in the state. You have no idea who you're dealing with."

"Then enlighten me." She jerks her arm free, but doesn't step back. "Tell me what's really going on. Why you're really here."

For a moment, I'm tempted. The truth sits heavy on my tongue, begging to be released. Maybe if she understood the danger, she'd back off. But one look at her face tells me it wouldn't matter. Belle's too far gone, too invested in her revenge fantasy to see reason.

"You want to know the truth?" I step closer, dropping my voice to a whisper. "The truth is, you're nothing. A spoiled little rich girl playing power games. But my family? They eat girls like you for breakfast. And when they're done, no one even remembers your name."

Fear finally breaks through her perfect mask. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" I grab the folder and start tearing pages out. "You think these little notes scare me? That I care about some photos? I've survived things that would break you, Belle. Things that would make your worst nightmare seem like a sweet dream."

"Stop it!" She lunges for the papers, but I hold them out of reach.

"Or what? You'll tell everyone what a slut I am? Go! But remember this—" I lean in close enough to whisper in her ear. "Every time you think you've won, every time you think you've got the upper hand, remember that I'm letting you live. Because the moment you become a real threat? Well, let's just say there are worse things than having your sex life exposed."

I step back, watching the color drain from her face. "Keep the photos. Keep your little investigation. But if you're smart, you'll bury it all and forget you ever heard the name Queen. Because trust me, sweetheart—you don't want to see what happens when my family feels threatened."

Without waiting for her response, I walk out, taking the folder with me. My hands shake as I close the door, but I force myself to keep moving. I make it halfway down the hall before my legs give out.

Rage and hatred swirl inside me, a maelstrom threatening to swallow me whole. Belle might be a Barbie, but she's also smart, with endless resources at her disposal. She could have the whole folder duplicated and distributed in a matter of hours, with barely any effort. And once the stories spread, once the pictures are seen by the wrong people…

My parents play a dangerous game, one that puts not just their entire wealth and status at risk but also the country. They wouldn't go down without a fight, certainly. My father would spin a believable story and claim it was all lies and conspiracy. But he wouldn't be able to protect everyone. Not when this kind of info can turn even his best friends against him.

I sink to the floor, clutching the evidence of Belle's investigation to my chest. Tears threaten, but I blink them back. I can't afford to break down. Not now. Not when there's so much at stake.

What the hell am I going to do? If I ignore Belle's threats, the whole thing could blow up in my face. If I report her, it might draw attention to the rumors, and my parents wouldn't risk that. Which leaves me with very few options—either give her what she wants and bow out or expose her first. Maybe there's a third option that I haven't thought of yet. Could there be a way out for me?

My phone buzzes—a text from an unknown number. Another photo of Alex, this one showing him walking into his dorm. The message below is simple: "Tick tock."

They know. They always know. This means Belle's investigation isn't just dangerous for her—it's putting Alex at risk too. And Erik. And everyone else I've dared to let close.

If this game turns personal, no one is safe.

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