Page 26 of Married to Lies

“Does ‘nothing’ include the fact that there’s been a second attack on the founder?” He turned his laptop around to an online story posted in the last half hour. My stomach dropped as I looked closer. This wasn’t supposed to be public news, and yet the main image was a collage of Simon and his children, and the title read, SECOND ATTACK ON MYHOME INVESTOR.

I started reading beneath the headline.

Simon Stone, founding investor of MyHome, was admitted to the hospital for thallium poisoning several days ago, according to a recent Instagram post by Stone’s daughter, Aleyna.

I wanted to read the post, but Conrad slammed the laptop shut, making my heart jump. “Look, Rei, I know you’re not exactly a trained spy, but I know something fishy is going on at MyHome, and Quentin is in the middle of it.” There was a grim, determined look on his face.

He didn’t look like the Conrad I used to know. The theater kid happy to have a chance at acting, even if it happened off stage. “Con, if you feel like you need to make a tip to the police, then that’s⁠—”

“The police are useless,” Conrad snapped. “No, we need concrete evidence before we approach them.” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small, black circle. It almost looked like a little magnet. “You’ll put this in his office, and it will gather everything we need.”

I stared at it, then him, the pieces clicking into place. It wasn’t a magnet—it was a recorder. “You want me to bug his office?” I sat up, planting my feet firmly on the floor. “Conrad, this has gone too far. It would be illegal for us to do what you’re asking, much less immoral. And if Quentin found out we were listening in on all his private conversations, we’d lose our biggest cleaning contract. Hundreds of people would be out of work. No. No. Absolutely not.”

But my words seemed to slide off Conrad’s shoulders as he said, “This isn’t up for debate.”

My eyebrows rose. Conrad never ordered me to do anything. Especially not with that manic look in his eyes. Now that I looked closer at him, I could see that the circles under his eyes were even darker than our last meetings. New lines had appeared on his forehead and around his mouth. Conrad used to be an attractive man; that’s part of why I hired him to play this part, but there was something seriously wrong with him. I couldn’t let this go on any longer and leave my employees at risk.

“Conrad, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to let you go, effective immediately. Please leave your keys on the desk.”

He looked down at his pristine desk and shook his head. I thought it was in disbelief. But then he looked back up at me, nostrils flared. “That won’t be happening, Rei.”

It was like cold water trickled down my neck and all my hairs stood on end. Something was seriously wrong here. “What’s really going on here?” I asked, my feet refusing to move me toward the door, no matter how much my brain screamed at them to do just that.

“We both know that you have far more to lose than I do,” he said. “If you fire me, I’m going to MyHome and canceling our contract before you have a chance to remove my privileges to sign for the company, and then I’ll go to the news and let everyone know exactly who you are.” His voice didn’t so much as wobble. He meant every word.

Acid rose in my throat, and I swallowed it down. “How could you say that? You were with me at rock bottom. I gave you a job, freedom to do as you please, paid you generously before I could even pay myself. Why would you threaten me like this?”

A flicker of something passed through his eyes, but quickly vanished to that hardened stare. “This isn’t about you. I know Quentin is up to something shady, and it hurts millions of people to let it continue, not just the people scrubbing floors for him. Once you get me my evidence, I’ll step down as CEO without sharing your identity. But until then, you’ll do exactly as I say, starting with this.” He walked around the table, grabbed my frozen arm, and pressed the recording device into my hand. While his clammy hand was still on mine, he added, “If you breathe a word of this to Quentin, I will know, and you will regret it.”

I stared at him like looking longer would reveal the person standing across from me. Conrad could be vain and a little dramatic, sure, but he wasn’t a blackmailing spy.

“That will be all,” he told me, then pushed me, none too gently, toward the door. As soon as I was outside of it, the lock clicked shut.

Courtneigh was already waiting for me, an ever-present smile on her face. “Let’s get you outside,” she said sweetly.

I stared at her. Where had she come from? How much of that had she heard?

She didn’t answer my silent question as we walked toward the front door, the bug feeling heavy in my hand.

If Conrad was willing to go to these lengths to get dirt on Quentin... how far would he go to destroy me if I didn’t?

11 Jude

I looked out the deeply tinted window over the Prague skyline. The red roofs had always captivated my interest. When I was younger, I enjoyed making patterns of them in my mind until they were a sort of obstacle field I could mentally kick a soccer ball over. Now, it was nothing more than a screensaver. A reminder that life went on while we were holed up here, thanks to a member gone rogue. This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Not for the first time, I wished I could tell Bryce the truth without putting us all at greater risk. I couldn’t bring a baby into this life, much less a wife. A trained killer was on the loose, gunning for my dad and anyone close to him.

The hitmen never knew that it was impossible to be truly close to Father.

Mother and I were possessions to him, as valuable as a piece of art on the wall or a gem displayed on a finger. He kept us like one would keep objects in a museum. Surveilled and protected. Put up for display but not loved.

Because what could be loved could be used against you.

“It’s dinnertime,” Renata said in her thick Czech accent.

I turned to see her waiting in the doorway to my room, her dark-brown hair pulled into a twisted bun atop her head. She was young, maybe twenty.

“How did you get your position here?” I asked her, lingering by the window.