His Friend, My Living Hell

Grace Keller POV:

The heavy oak door of the wine cellar slammed shut, the sound echoing in the suffocating darkness. The click of the lock was the sound of a tomb being sealed. It was damp, the air thick with the smell of earth and aging wine. And something else. A musky, animal scent that made the hair on my arms stand up.

I heard a skittering sound in the corner. Then another. My breath caught in my throat. Rats. My lifelong, paralyzing fear.

"Julian! Let me out!" I screamed, banging my fists against the unyielding wood. "Please!"

Only silence answered me. I pounded until my raw, burned hand throbbed in agony, until my voice was hoarse and my body sagged with exhaustion. Defeated, I slid down the door and curled into a ball on the cold stone floor, trying to make myself as small as possible, tears of pain and terror tracing cold paths down my cheeks.

Hours passed. Or maybe it was minutes. Time had no meaning in the dark. The scuttling sounds grew bolder, closer. I felt something brush against my leg and I screamed, a raw, ragged sound of pure animal fear.

Just when I thought I would lose my mind, the lock clicked. The door swung open, flooding the cellar with blinding light.

Julian stood silhouetted in the doorway, a dark avenging angel.

"Get up," he said, his voice flat.

Hope, foolish and fragile, fluttered in my chest. He was letting me go. He had come to his senses. I scrambled to my feet, my legs weak and trembling.

But he didn't move aside. Instead, two of his guards stepped forward and grabbed my arms.

"What are you doing?" I cried, struggling against their iron grip.

Julian stepped into the light, and I saw he was holding a small bowl. In it was a paste of crushed peanuts.

My blood ran cold. I have a severe, life-threatening allergy to peanuts. He knew. It was the first thing I told him when we started dating.

"Fabiola is allergic to shellfish," he said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "You put it in her soup on purpose. An eye for an eye, Grace."

"No!" I shrieked, thrashing wildly. "Julian, no, please! I didn't! She did this to me!"

They dragged me forward. One guard held my head back, pinching my nose, forcing my mouth open. The other took the bowl from Julian and scraped the thick, gritty paste onto my tongue.

The reaction was immediate. My throat began to close, the air turning to fire in my lungs. My skin erupted in angry, itching hives. I clawed at my neck, gasping, my vision starting to swim.

Julian watched, his face a mask of cold indifference, as I choked and convulsed on the floor. He watched me die.

"She's lying, Julian," I wheezed, the words barely audible. "Why won't you believe me?"

The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was his cold, empty eyes, unmoved by my suffering.

I awoke in my own bed. The anaphylaxis was gone, replaced by the dull ache of a bruised esophagus and the lingering terror of suffocation.

Julian sat in a chair by the bed, looking as if he'd been there for hours.

"How could you, Grace?" he asked, his voice heavy with disappointment, as if I were the one who had betrayed him. "To stoop so low. To try and kill her."

I recoiled as he reached for my hand. The touch I once craved now felt like a brand.

"Did you even look?" I whispered, my voice a raw rasp. "Did you check the security cameras? Did you ask the staff? Did you do anything to find out the truth?"

A shadow passed over his face. He looked away, his jaw tight. "The truth is what I see. Fabiola is the victim here."

He stood up, pacing the room. "The medical board is launching a full investigation into your father's case, thanks to the negative press you generated. The only way to make it go away is for you to publicly restore Fabiola' s reputation."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"There's a charity gala tonight. You will get up on that stage, and you will tell everyone that Fabiola Barron is a brilliant surgeon who was unfairly slandered. You will say you were wrong."

I stared at him, my mind reeling. "You want me to lie for her? After everything she's done?"

"I want you to fix the mess you made," he snarled.

"No," I said, the word a rock in my throat. "Absolutely not."

His eyes turned to ice. "Your brother, Bryan, is on his way to the courthouse right now. He thinks he's filing a new motion. In reality, he's about to be arrested for perjury and attempting to bribe a hospital official. The evidence is already planted."

My world tilted on its axis. "You wouldn't."

"I would," he said, his voice a deadly promise. "Unless you do exactly as I say. You have until the gala begins. Make your choice, Grace."

He was a monster. A demon cloaked in a beautiful shell.

I was trapped. Utterly and completely trapped.

"Let Bryan go," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "Promise me you will call it off and he will be safe."

Julian hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. "Do this for me, and he walks away clean."

"And my father?"

"He'll continue to receive the best care money can buy. As long as you behave."

There was no other way. My family was his hostage.

"Fine," I conceded, the word a surrender. "I'll do it."