Liam’s POV
The following morning, I was at the airport by 5 AM, impeccably dressed in my best Armani suit, Italian leather briefcase in hand. I’d barely slept, too wired with anticipation, but I didn’t feel tired. Excitent and the promise of victory had operating at peak efficiency
The flight to Boston was smooth, and I used the ti to review all our previous materials on the Reign project, refreshing my mory on the details Jas might want to discuss. By the ti we landed, I felt confident and prepared.
The Ever Green Hotel was, as expected, the epito of luxury. I checked in, unpacked my overnight bag, and ordered room service—a steak dinner and a bottle of their best red wine. As I ate, I rehearsed different scenarios for the morning eting, anticipating questions, planning my responses.
I slept surprisingly well that night, and woke before my alarm, ready and eager. At 6:30 AM, I was freshly showered, dressed, and on my way to the conference room Jas had specified in his email.
The hotel was quiet at that hour, just a few early risers heading to the gym or checking out. I found the conference room easily...rcury Suite, on the middle floor, and checked my watch. 6:45 AM. Perfect timing.
I tried the door. Locked. I knocked, but there was no answer. Probably too early still. I decided to wait in the adjacent lobby area, reviewing my notes one last ti.
At exactly 7 AM, I approached the conference room again and knocked firmly. Still no answer. I frowned, checking the email on my phone to confirm the details. I had the right place and ti.
I waited another ten minutes, growing increasingly anxious, then called the number Jas had used to contact . It went straight to voicemail.
"Mr. Jas, this is Liam Ashton. I’m at the rcury Suite as arranged, but it seems to be locked. Please let know if there’s been a change of plans."
I hung up and approached the front desk, maintaining my composure despite the knot forming in my stomach.
"Excuse ," I said to the receptionist, a young woman with a practiced smile. "I’m supposed to be eting Jas in the rcury Suite at 7 AM, but the room appears to be locked. Could you check if there’s been a booking error?"
She tapped at her computer, frowning slightly. "I don’t see any booking for the rcury Suite this morning, sir. Are you sure you have the right day?"
"Absolutely," I insisted, showing her the email on my phone. "See? From Jas Wilson’s assistant."
She studied the email, her frown deepening. "I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have any record of a Jas Wilson’s booking with us currently."
"That can’t be right," I said, my voice sharpening. "He specifically said he will be eting here. Jas Wilson, the CEO of Pinnacle Developnt."
Another tap on her keyboard. "I’m sorry, sir. We have booking by that na."
The knot in my stomach tightened into a cold, hard ball. Sothing wasn’t right.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Jas’s number. I scrolled through my call history, searching for the one he had used to contact the first ti. As soon as he picked up, his voice ca through, cold and irritated.
"I thought I told you I had given the contract to soone more serious and worthy. Why are you calling , Mr. Aston?"
"I... I received a call from you—supposedly you—stating that the Reign Project was back on for Synergy Sphere," I stamred.
"Is this so kind of joke, Mr. Aston?" His voice was sharp with confusion.
The line went dead.
And in that mont, realization crashed over . I’d been dealing with an impostor all along.
And now I was in Boston, having flown halfway across the country for... nothing. A phantom eting with a fraud, chasing a contract that never existed.
Cold fury washed over as the truth dawned. This had Diane written all over it. This was her revenge—making waste ti and money on a wild goose chase, humiliating .
I checked out of the hotel imdiately, not bothering to explain the change of plans. At the airport, I managed to get on an earlier flight back to New York, spending the journey in a state of simring rage.
By the ti I landed at JFK, I’d had hours to think about how Diane had orchestrated this elaborate ploy. She must have had help—there was no way she could have pulled this off alone. Which ant she had allies I didn’t know about, people working against .
As I exited the terminal, preoccupied with these dark thoughts, The mont I stepped out of the terminal, a gust of cold air hit , but it did nothing to cool the fury simring inside . The entire trip had been a total waste of ti. A cruel joke orchestrated by Diane.
I had barely taken three steps when a young man rushed toward , his phone already raised.
"Excuse ," he said, practically bouncing on his toes. "Aren’t you the guy from that movie? The one who cheated on his wife with her sister?"
I froze, blinking at him. "What?"
The guy grinned. "Yeah, it’s you! Man, my girlfriend hates you in that movie, but she still made watch it twice. Can I get a selfie?"
"Get away from ," I snapped, shoving past him.
I quickened my pace toward the parking lot, but the murmur of voices behind made my stomach clench. A woman gasped.
"Oh my god! It is you! The cheater!"
Another voice chid in. "Yeah! From that awful marriage movie!"
My pulse spiked. How the hell did they know?
I ducked my head and pulled my briefcase up to shield my face. But it was too late. More people were turning, their voices blending into a sickening chorus.
"Hey, buddy! How does it feel to be a walking cliché?"
Click. Click. Click. Caras flashed in my face.
"Jesus," I muttered, pushing forward.
Then a man stepped right in my path, phone in hand, filming. "Hey! Tell us, do you regret cheating?"
"Move," I ground out.
But he didn’t. He smirked, angling his phone closer. "What? No comnt?"
The rage that had been simring since Boston boiled over. I shoved him aside. Hard.
The man stumbled, his phone slipping from his grasp and clattering onto the pavent.
"What the hell, man?" He spun back, eyes blazing. "You think you can just assault people?"
"Stay out of my damn face!" I barked.
"Oh, screw you!" He threw up his arms. "See this, everyone? Not only a cheater but an entitled asshole too!"
Laughter. Whispers. Soone muttered, "Guess the movie was spot on."
My jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
Another round of caras clicked. The crowd had grown. I was a spectacle. A joke.
I shoved forward, practically jogging now. A woman shrieked, "Look! He’s running away like a guilty man!"
I didn’t stop until I reached a secluded area near the private car pickup. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed Thomas.
"Sir?" Thomas’s voice was crisp, professional.
"I’m at JFK. Get here. Now."
"Of course, sir. Five minutes."
I ended the call and pressed my back against a concrete pillar, chest heaving.
Five minutes stretched into eternity as more people loitered nearby, watching, whispering, pointing.
Then, finally, the black car pulled up to the curb. Thomas stepped out, looking around before spotting . He strode over, his face impassive.
"Sir." He opened the door for .
I slid in, exhaling sharply as the door shut, sealing away from the chaos.
Thomas took the wheel. "Ho, sir?"
"Yeah," I muttered.
He pulled into traffic, navigating the city streets with ease. I leaned my head back, exhaustion creeping in. But I couldn’t rest. The adrenaline was still too strong, the embarrassnt still too fresh.
After a long silence, Thomas glanced at in the rearview mirror. "Rough trip?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "You have no idea."
As the car cruised down the freeway, my hands curled into fists. My phone sat on the seat beside , screen glowing with missed notifications—probably news articles, social dia posts, or ssages from people who had seen the spectacle at the airport.
Enough.
I grabbed the phone and scrolled to Diane’s number.
She answered on the third ring, I didn’t give her a chance to speak.
"You think you’re clever, don’t you?" My voice was cold.
A pause. Then a soft, smug chuckle. "Liam. What a surprise. Back from your important business trip already?"
"Cut the crap, Diane." My grip tightened around the phone. "You set up. The fake eting, the impostor, the airport stunt—you did all of it."
"Now, why would I do such a thing?" she mused, her voice dripping with mock innocence.
I clenched my jaw. "Don’t play dumb. You wanted to humiliate . You confidently ca to my company, destroyed my car and as if that wasn’t enough you made waste my ti and money chasing a deal that never existed. You really pulled out all the stops, didn’t you?"
She sighed dramatically. "Oh, Liam. Always so paranoid. Maybe people just finally realized who you really are."
I could hear the satisfaction in her voice. She was enjoying this.
"You won’t get away with this," I growled. "You think this is funny? You think this is just another one of your little gas? You have no idea what you’ve started."
"Is that a threat?" she asked, feigning concern.
"No," I said, my voice low and lethal. "It’s a promise. Brace yourself, Diane. Because whatever you thought you were doing? You just made the biggest mistake of your life."
She was silent for a mont. Then, she laughed.
"Oh, Liam. You always were so dramatic," she purred. "I guess we’ll see who cos out on top, won’t we?"
The line went dead.
I exhaled sharply, my chest rising and falling with the force of my anger. My fingers were still curled around the phone, so tight my knuckles ached.
Thomas’s voice cut through the tension. "Everything alright, sir?"
I took a long breath and forced my tone to steady. "Just drive, Thomas."
Reviews
All reviews (0)