One Screenshot to Burn an Empire Chapter 05

One Screenshot to Burn an Empire Chapter 05

My voice wasn’t loud, but it was a pinprick to the tense balloon in the office.

Julian snapped back to his senses. He snatched his hand back, crumpling the tissue in his palm.

“Aurelia!” he hissed, his voice thick with suppressed rage.

“What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what you’ve done!”

I ignored him.

My gaze swept past him, landing directly on Cassia.

She was still holding her pitiful pose, eyes red-rimmed, long lashes heavy with tears that refused to fall.

Seeing me look at her, she flinched like a startled fawn and buried her head lower.

“Miss Cassia,” I began slowly, my voice like ice. “Stop crying. The family doesn’t budget for acting awards.”

Cassia’s body trembled.

She looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting mine, her voice choked.

“Donna… I’m so sorry… I really didn’t mean to… I didn’t know it would turn

out like this…”

“Of course you knew.” I strode into the office and shut the door behind me, cutting off the prying eyes.

My heels were silent on the soft Persian rug, but each step carried an oppressive weight.

I walked right up to her, looking down at her.

“Every stroke of the tattoo artist’s needle, every photo you took-you knew

exactly what the consequences would be. Isn’t this exactly the result you wanted?”

“I didn’t…” She shook her head desperately, tears finally streaming down her cheeks.

“I just wanted to take care of the Don… I was afraid you’d worry…”

“Is that so?” I let out a soft laugh, pulling my phone from my handbag. I opened the photo and held it in front of her face.

“Covering my rose with your snake, striking such an intimate pose, taking this picture, and then captioning it ‘Tonight, he’s mine. Is that what you call ‘taking care’ of him, Miss Cassia?”

My voice was quiet, but each word was a hammer blow to her composure.

Her face turned deathly pale.

She clearly hadn’t expected me to dissect it so bluntly in front of Julian.

“I… I wasn’t thinking…” she stammered.

“Enough!”

A furious roar ripped from Julian.

He strode over, his eyes bloodshot. Instead of just grabbing my wrist, he backed me forcefully into the heavy mahogany desk, his large hands gripping my waist. His body pressed flush against mine, caging me in. Instantly, I felt the unmistakable, hard ridge of his arousal pressing intimately against my stomach. Even now, wrapped in scandal, his body hungered for mine.

“Aurelia! Have you had enough! This is family headquarters!” His voice dropped an octave, a dark, raspy growl laced with desperate lust and frustration. His face was inches from mine, his hot breath fanning my lips.

“So what?” I stared back at him, ignoring the familiar heat radiating from his chest. “Is the headquarters some sacred ground where you can stage this disgusting melodrama in your office?”

“What melodrama! It’s not what you think!” he argued desperately, his grip on my waist tightening, trying to pull my hips even closer as if our physical connection could bridge the chasm between us. “I was set up! I was drugged! Someone spiked my drink that night, and I don’t remember a thing that happened afterward!”

“You don’t remember?” I repeated the words, savoring the lie.

“Yes! I woke up in a hotel room, all alone! I swear on my life, Aurelia, I didn’t touch her. You’re the only woman who gets me like this!” He ground his hips subtly against mine to prove his point, his eyes begging me to believe him.

“I called the hotel to check the security footage, but they said the cameras on that floor had been broken since the day before!”

“Isn’t it obvious? Someone is trying to frame me!”

Julian was agitated, desperate for me to believe him, his gaze dropping to my lips as if a kiss could erase the photo.

I just looked at him, at his frantic face and bloodshot eyes.

Before, I might have softened. I might have wavered under his touch.

But now, I just found it laughable.

I brought my hands up, not to embrace him, but to push hard against his

chest.

“The security footage was broken? Julian, are you writing a screenplay? Do you really think I’d believe such a cliché?”

“It’s true! Aurelia, why won’t you believe me?” he was practically begging, attempting to crash his lips onto mine to silence my doubts.

I turned my head sharply, his desperate kiss grazing my jaw instead. “Get off me,” I hissed, sliding my hand down to wedge my designer bag between us.

“How am I supposed to believe you?” I wrenched myself free and pointed at Cassia, who was cowering on the sofa.

“Believe that your assistant ‘kindly’ took you to a hotel in the middle of the night?”

“Believe that she ‘kindly’ had a tattoo artist brand you with her mark?”

“Or believe that she ‘kindly’ took a picture and sent it to me to ‘reassure’ me?”

“I…” Julian was speechless.

All his explanations seemed flimsy and pathetic in the face of that photo.

He knew Cassia’s actions were the fatal flaw in his story.

He spun around and glared at her. “You! Why did you do that!”

Startled by his shout, Cassia shivered and cried even harder.

“Don… I… I was just so worried… I was afraid the Donna wouldn’t be able to reach you

and would overthink things… I wanted her to know you were safe…

I really… I…

She cried and explained, her words a jumble, but the message was clear: she

was blameless.

A masterful performance.

Just as Julian’s anger began to soften under the torrent of her tears, I spoke again.

“Stop acting.”

My voice was soft, but it dropped the temperature in the room to freezing.

“Cassia, let me ask you a question. How did a tattoo artist get past three security checkpoints at the estate at two in the morning?”

Cassia’s sobs hitched.

Julian froze, looking at me.

I stared at Cassia, my gaze like an X-ray, peeling back her disguise.

“I remember very clearly. The estate has three security perimeters and an

infrared surveillance system.”

“Any outsider needs written authorization from either the Don or me to gain

entry.”

“So how did that tattoo artist just waltz into the main house at two in the morning?”

The question was a scalpel, cutting straight to the heart of her lie.

Her mouth hung open, but no words came out.

Beads of cold sweat formed on her temples.

Julian realized the gravity of the problem. His gaze shot to Cassia, his eyes

filled with suspicion.

“Cassia, answer me!”

The office was dead silent.

The only sound was Cassia’s ragged, quickening breaths.

And just at that critical moment,

Cassia’s eyes rolled back, her body went limp, and she slumped onto the sofa.

She had “fainted.”