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"She was going to attack ," the girl grunted, arms folded as if personally offended by the universe. "That was not part of the job description."

Brandon stared at her in open disbelief.

He had hired her for one thing. One simple, humiliatingly easy thing, engineer a scene. Get Lyse and Levi into a public altercation. Capture sothing ssy. Sothing ugly. Sothing that would fracture their shiny little narrative.

Instead, this gum-chewing nace had tracked him down, walked into his private club office like she owned the place, and was now demanding the rest of her paynt.

"For the last ti," Brandon said tightly, dragging a hand through his hair, "you were supposed to observe and create tension. Not provoke a street brawl."

She blew a bubble, let it pop lazily.

"It was also in my job description," she replied coolly, "to make sure I caught Lyse and Levi fighting."

"They didn’t fight."

"Because your precious Lyse nearly broke my wrist."

Brandon blinked. "She what?"

"She’s fast," Baby Doll said flatly. "And that girl’s unhinged."

He stared at her. This petite girl in ripped jeans and a neon cropped hoodie did not look like soone who had just escaped a confrontation with Lyse unscathed. But there was no fear in her posture. No embarrassnt.

Just irritation.

"How did you even find ?" he demanded.

She tilted her head.

"Job secrets."

His jaw tightened.

"I have to tell you though," she added casually, glancing around his office, "you really need to do better with mopping up an account before you go on the dark web. Amateur hour."

Brandon went very still.

Nothing, absolutely nothing had been going well for him lately.

Levi and Lyse were everywhere.

Magazines.

Talk shows.

Trending pages.

Wherever he turned there was so insipid hashtag like #LyseAndLeviCoupleGoals or slow-motion footage of Levi placing a possessive hand at the small of her back.

The photos were unbearable.

Levi walking just slightly behind her, protective.

Levi leaning close at dinner.

Levi laughing at sothing she whispered.

It looked real.

That was the part that made him sick.

And beneath all of that public perfection, Brandon had begun to feel sothing else.

Like soone was watching him.

Like every ti he checked his phone, sothing had already checked him first.

He narrowed his eyes at the girl.

"You hacked ."

Her gum stilled mid-chew.

"Is that how you found ?"

She didn’t answer.

She smiled.

And it was not a comforting smile.

For a brief, dark second, Brandon considered killing her.

The thought ca to him cleanly. Efficiently.

She was small. Alone. Reckless enough to show up here. He could make it look like a robbery. A disappearance.

But sothing in her posture stopped him.

She wasn’t nervous.

She wasn’t impressed by his office, the art, the silent security at the doors.

She looked... backed.

As if soone would notice if she vanished.

As if she’d planned for this eting.

Brandon swore under his breath and stord out of the room.

He returned monts later with a thick wad of cash.

He dropped it onto the table in front of her.

"Take it," he snapped. "And go away."

Baby Doll scooped the money up, flipping through it with efficient fingers. She bead.

She had been annoyed when the client refused to pay the remaining balance. Especially after she had risked confronting that tiger of a woman.

He’s lucky that wild tigress didn’t slap , she thought. Or else I would have doubled the fee and co back with goons.

Baby Doll slipped the money into her purse.

"It’s unfortunate this turned out so unsatisfactory," she said almost sweetly. "I pride myself on client satisfaction."

Brandon scoffed.

"Still," she added lightly, "I am available if you want a job done."

He rolled his eyes. "You just proved you can’t handle one."

Her smile vanished.

"No," she corrected. "I proved your target is more dangerous than you assessed."

Silence fell between them.

That word lingered.

Dangerous.

Brandon’s irritation sharpened into sothing else.

"What do you an?"

Baby Doll leaned back against his desk, uninvited.

"I an," she said slowly, "Lyse isn’t just so social climber clinging to Levi. She’s alert. She scans exits. She noticed before I made my move."

Brandon felt sothing cold slide down his spine.

"That’s ridiculous."

"She clocked within thirty seconds."

"That’s because you’re obvious."

Her eyes flicked up, sharp now.

"No," she said quietly. "It’s because she’s used to being hunted."

That unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

He thought of the feeling of being watched.

Of disappearing shadows on the street.

Of his garbage can being knocked over.

Baby Doll pushed off the desk.

"Whatever you’re trying to break between them?" she continued. "It won’t work with cheap theatrics."

"And you’d know?" he sneered.

"Yes."

There was no arrogance in it. Just fact.

He studied her.

"You hacked ."

Her lips curved again.

"That’s a heavy accusation."

"Answer the question."

She stepped closer.

"You left a breadcrumb trail from a prepaid crypto wallet tied to a burner that pinged a café network three blocks from your office. You reused a userna from a gaming forum when you requested contact."

She tapped the side of her head.

"People are lazy. I’m not."

Brandon’s mouth went dry.

"You’re bluffing."

She shrugged.

"Maybe."

The silence stretched.

"You accessed my system," he said, quieter now.

Her only answer was a mischievous smile.

Sothing shifted inside him then.

Fear.

Yes.

But also opportunity.

If she could find him that easily... what could she do to Levi?

"I need you to do a job for ."

Her eyebrows rose slightly.

"Didn’t you just tell to go away?"

"That was before I realized you might actually be useful."

She tilted her head, studying him the way one might evaluate a suspicious investnt.

"What kind of job?"

He hesitated.

Then:

"I want everything."

She didn’t react.

"On Levi," he clarified. "His companies. His accounts. His security systems. His weaknesses."

Now she went very still.

"You’re escalating," she said softly.

"He ruined my life."

She snorted.

"He married your ex."

"He parades her everywhere."

"She chose him."

His jaw flexed.

"I want leverage."

Baby Doll crossed her arms.

"You’re asking to breach a high-profile businessman with layered security and likely private cyber defense."

"Yes."

"You understand that’s not tabloid mischief. That’s federal prison."

He leaned forward.

"I’ll pay."

She didn’t move.

"How much?" she asked.

"Na it."

She studied him for a long mont.

"You’re emotional," she said finally. "That makes you sloppy."

"I’m motivated."

"You’re obsessed."

Silence.

He didn’t deny it.

She walked slowly around his office, fingertips grazing the back of a leather chair.

"Why not just move on?"

"Because he’s winning."

She stopped.

Ah.

There it was.

Not love.

Not heartbreak.

Competition.

Baby Doll turned back to him.

"You don’t want them broken up," she said softly. "You want him broken."

His silence confird it.

She considered.

A high-risk breach.

But also high reward.

And Brandon was exactly the kind of rich, vindictive fool who would keep paying if he tasted even a hint of progress.

"I’ll need ti," she said.

"And?"

"Half upfront. Double my previous rate."

He stiffened.

"That’s absurd."

"So is attacking a fortified empire because you can’t handle losing a girl."

He glared.

She waited.

He exhaled sharply.

"Fine."

"And," she added smoothly, "if I detect even a hint that you plan to ’mop up’ loose ends like you were just fantasizing about?"

His eyes flickered.

She smiled.

"I’ll make sure the authorities get a neat little anonymous package of your browsing history."

Cold.

Calculated.

Backed.

Brandon realized sothing in that mont.

He had not hired a freelancer.

He had invited a predator into his war.

"You’re enjoying this," he muttered.

"Imnsely."

She extended her hand.

"Deal?"

He stared at it.

Then shook.

Her grip was firm.

Confident.

When she released him, she slung her bag over her shoulder.

"I’ll be in touch," she said.

At the door, she paused.

"Oh. And Brandon?"

His head snapped up.

"Do better this ti."

Then she walked out, leaving him alone in his office with the creeping realization that he might have just crossed a line that could not be uncrossed.

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