~Nicki’s POV~
That night at the bar, after Dean had invited us out because he knew all the best spots in the city, he got an important call and had to leave early. It was just Nantam and left.
When we were finally ready to leave, we spotted Evric in the car park, struggling to open his car door. He was heavily drunk.
Nantam sneered, a cruel smirk curling on his lips. "Pathetic rich boy," he taunted. "Can’t even handle the real world. Makes wonder how Zayn fell for soone like him."
I instantly sensed that Nantam was about to co up with sothing terrible. I hurried to speak. "I’ll call—" I began, aning to say I’d call a driver to take Evric ho since it was too risky for him to drive in that state.
Nantam cut off, his voice flat and determined. "I don’t care. This is an opportunity for to break them up, and I won’t lose the chance for anything."
"No," I protested weakly. "Nantam, you already see he’s going through a lot, you can’t just..."
He ignored , demanding I help him carry Evric into the car. But Evric was heavy and stubborn. He kept pushing us away, mumbling, "Leave alone. Don’t touch ."
Then Nantam got creative. "Zayn asked to bring you ho," he lied.
Hearing Zayn’s na, Evric imdiately softened. "Zayn is not at ho..." he slurred uncertainly.
"Yes, he’s not at ho," Nantam confird smoothly. "He’s waiting for you inside the car." I watched in horror as Nantam tricked Evric using Zayn’s na. Evric, in his drunken state, followed the suggestion. I was the one who ended up driving Evric’s car.
But before we left the car park, Nantam stopped. He quickly paid three staff mbers at the bar and fed them a story, a carefully constructed lie they were to repeat if anyone called asking how Evric left that night. He was covering our tracks.
Nantam drove to a remote apartnt. After putting Evric on the bed, Nantam pulled out his phone. He was trying to call soone—a stranger, to co and have real sex with Evric. He planned to pay that person, snap photos and video, and send them to Zayn, knowing fully that cheating was the one thing Zayn would never forgive.
As he was dialing, I intervened. "I’ll do it," I told him.
He lowered his phone, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I don’t trust you. You were being too soft just now."
"I’ll confuse him," I said, forcing conviction into my voice. "I will sleep with him for the last ti. It ends tonight, one way or another."
He considered this for a mont, then smiled cruelly. "Fine. But I need proof. I need a video and pictures. If you don’t send it, I’ll make you regret it."
I told him what he wanted to hear, despite the disgust coiling in my stomach. "Trust . I will do it."
Nantam finally left us alone, and it was just Evric and in the sterile apartnt. Evric must have thought he was safely in his own ho because, with a drunken groan, he started taking off his clothes, mumbling softly. My heart hamred. This body, the one that was once casually mine, the temptation to touch him, to possess him again, was overwhelming. I was fighting a desperate battle against myself.
I forced myself to stand up and went to gently cover him with the duvet. The mont my hand brushed his arm, Evric tensed. He must have recognized that my touch wasn’t Zayn’s.
"Don’t touch ," he mumbled, his voice thick with confusion.
"I was only trying to cover you up, you idiot," I whispered.
He pushed the covers away and tried to sit up, his eyes glassy. "Zayn? Where is Zayn?" Before he finally drifted back to sleep, he kept calling out, a heartbreaking stream of nas: "Babe... baby, where are you? Why isn’t Zayn at ho?"
I looked at him, feeling a wave of pity. Evric wasn’t the type to get drunk easily; this night must have been the culmination of extre stress. But then I rembered Nantam’s ultimatum. I had to make the video.
I quickly texted a trusted friend who specialized in graphic editing. They instructed on exactly what angles and shadows I needed to capture, just enough to stitch together a convincing, compromising fake video. I took the necessary close-up shots of us together, making sure Evric’s face was visible but blurry, implying the action Nantam wanted.
After my friend finished editing the highly realistic fake video, I waited until morning. When Evric woke up, I put on a performance, pretending we had slept together. I spoke those fake, rehearsed words while he blinked in confusion, half-awake. Until the mont he left, I kept up the act.
I sent the compromised video and pictures to Nantam imdiately. But then, standing in Nantam’s apartnt, watching him gloat over the footage, I couldn’t stop myself.
"Even if you succeed in separating Evric and Zayn," I told him, my voice low and fierce, "Zayn still won’t choose you."
I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. I pressed my advantage. "If Zayn finds out about everything, about the shellfish, the ex-girlfriend, all of it, he will be ruined. You’ll be in jail. You will forever lose a beautiful soul like Zayn, and you can never, ever get the chance to be his friend again. You will lose him completely."
I left Nantam’s house right after that, hoping my words had been enough to stop him.
But two weeks later, the rage and obsession won. Nantam chose to proceed, sending the fake video to Evric, fully believing it would shatter their relationship.
I went to Zayn’s house to try and warn him. I couldn’t tell him the outright truth, Nantam’s threat was too powerful. But I knew Zayn already had his suspicions. Yet, the tragedy was that in his heart, he still refused to accept that his friend could ever be capable of such profound evil.
Two, days ago, Evric reached out to . His text was short and direct: we needed to et, and I should trust him. He assured he wasn’t coming to arrest or do anything bad; he just wanted to talk.
I agreed instantly. For all his corporate power, Evric was a man I trusted to keep his word. And I knew he wasn’t blind, he must have sensed that sothing was off, even if he didn’t yet know the full truth.
When we finally t, the conversation started casually, but the air was thick with unspoken tension. After a few exchanges, Evric leaned forward, his gaze intense, and finally said my na.
"Nicki," he said, his voice level. "You are not the type of person to make a plan and fail twice."
I imdiately knew what he ant. He was referencing my two public "attacks"—the first ti at his office with the drug and the second ti with the fake cheating video. He knew I was intelligent and ruthless enough to execute a plan successfully, but both of those plans had intentionally stalled or failed to have the full impact.
He was telling he knew my efforts were deliberately weak.
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