He Used Me for His True Love, So I Exposed Him Live

Clyde let out a cold scoff, then reached over and tapped the tip of Victoria's nose.

A single laugh, dripping with the kind of contempt that made your skin crawl.

"Our Victoria, always so kindhearted."

"Deidre Morton? She's nobody. Some random model from some backwater town who spent three years scratching around Sterling City's elite circle without a single thing to show for it."

"If I hadn't picked her, she'd still be in some back-alley booth pouring drinks and kissing up to people, trying to claw her way into the industry. I gave her resources. I gave her the title and the spotlight of being my girlfriend. She should be on her knees thanking me."

I stumbled back two steps, heart pounding, and a thorn sank into my finger—and just like that I was back in that dim basement three days ago, the drug already dragging me under.

I had bitten down on my lip until it split, even ripped off a fingernail, telling myself that if those animals came through the door, I'd take them down with me.

Then Clyde had burst through the door like a hero out of a story, larger than life, the man who would save me from anything.

His bodyguards pinned the kidnappers to the ground.

He slipped off his jacket and settled it over my shoulders, and when I swayed into him, barely conscious, he quietly sent everyone out and had the door closed behind them.

He held me. His voice was raw. "Deidre, I'll take responsibility for you. The moment we're out of here, I'm marrying you."

Back then, I had secretly thanked fate.

I'd even convinced myself that everything—the kidnapping, the drugs—was destiny forcing me into Clyde Gilbert's arms, and that made it all worth it.

Now I knew how ridiculous that sounded.

A few seconds of silence in the garden. Then Victoria rose on her toes and pressed her lips to Clyde's.

"But I'm really scared. I'm scared you'll play the part so long it stops being an act."

She pouted, eyes rimmed red, the picture of fragile helplessness—the kind designed to make a man fold.

"Deidre really is pretty. Great figure, too. I keep seeing people online saying she's more beautiful than me."

Clyde laughed and pinched her cheek, his voice dropping into the indulgent tone you'd use to coax a child.

"Victoria, no one even comes close to you. Once I deal with my parents, I'm marrying you. Immediately."

"In this lifetime, I will never marry anyone but you."

"Then swear it." She wouldn't let it go.

He smiled, that same doting warmth.

"I swear: if I, Clyde Gilbert, ever marry Deidre Morton in this life, let heaven strike me dead."

Victoria was finally satisfied. She kissed his face, once, twice, three times.

A short while later, Clyde pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Hey, Director Lambert. It's me."

"Looked over the promo plan for Victoria's drama. Next three rounds of talking points are fine. But for Deidre—push another wave onto the trending list. Tomorrow morning."

"Already got the headline: 'Deidre Morton's Escort Scandal.' Yeah, those photos we took at the club. Pick the worst angles. The more damning she looks, the better."

He paused. Then laughed.

"She won't suspect a thing. Don't worry about it."

The voice on the other end said something.

Clyde laughed again, clearly in high spirits, then added one more thing.

"Oh—the kidnapping. That all cleaned up?"

"Keep those guys' mouths shut tight. Nobody finds out I arranged it. Not that a fool like Deidre could ever dig that deep, but better safe than sorry."

Everything went still.

The kidnapping. He arranged that too.

Part of me had already suspected it was Clyde's handiwork, but hearing him say it himself—casually, like he was checking off a list—something in my chest caved in, and I couldn't breathe.