The Billionaire's Deadly Deal

Vivian dragged Alessandra into a narrow service corridor lined with stacked chairs and discarded trays. The noise of the ballroom faded, replaced by the hum of the industrial HVAC system.

"Saved yourself?" Vivian spat, shoving Alessandra against the wall. "You embarrassed the Brandts! We needed that merger. After your father was framed, all our assets were frozen! That marriage was our only way out!"

Alessandra rubbed her wrist where her mother's nails had broken the skin. "I'm not selling my body to save your lifestyle, Mother."

Vivian's face crumpled. She switched tactics instantly, her features melting from rage into a pathetic, wheedling desperation. Tears welled up in her eyes-on command.

"Ally, please. Think of the family. We're drowning. If you could just... smooth things over. Maybe apologize to Darius in private? He seemed interested. I saw the way he looked at you."

Alessandra felt a wave of nausea. Not just from the manipulation, but from a sudden, sharp memory.

In the original timeline, she had drunk the wine. The waiter had spilled it on her, but she had managed to take a sip before the crash. She remembered the heat, the dizziness, the loss of control later that night. Even though she hadn't slept with Darius that night, the drug had been in her system.

She needed to be sure. She needed to prove a negative.

"Fine," Alessandra said, cutting off her mother's sobbing. "I'll play the game. But I need something first."

Vivian looked up, hopeful. "Anything. What do you need?"

"I need Plan B," Alessandra said. "Emergency contraception. Right now."

Vivian's eyes went wide. Her mouth fell open. "You... did you and Darius... already...?"

Alessandra didn't confirm or deny. She just stared at her mother with hard, unyielding eyes. "If you want me to have a shot at being Mrs. Brandt, I can't be pregnant with a bastard before the ring is on my finger. It looks messy. Go get it."

It was a lie. A calculated, dangerous lie. She hadn't touched Darius. But she needed a prop for the next act.

"Yes. Yes, of course. You're thinking ahead. That's my girl." Vivian scrambled, looking around wildly. She spotted a maid passing by the end of the corridor.

Vivian grabbed the maid, a young Hispanic woman looking terrified. She shoved a roll of hundred-dollar bills into the girl's apron. "Go to the pharmacy on 5th. Get Plan B. Bring it here. Don't talk to anyone."

The maid nodded and ran toward the service exit.

Alessandra leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. She counted the seconds.

One second, two seconds.

From the shadows of a decorative pillar near the entrance of the corridor, a figure moved. It was Chloe. She had been listening.

Chloe tapped furiously on her phone.

The Service Entrance.

The maid pushed open the heavy metal door, stepping into the cool night air. Before she could reach the street, a figure blocked her path.

Ilene Walton stood there, no longer hyperventilating. She looked perfectly composed, her eyes glittering with malice.

"Where are you going?" Ilene asked.

The maid stammered, clutching the cash.

Ilene held out a thicker roll of bills. And a small amber bottle.

"Change of plans," Ilene smiled. It was a shark's smile. "You're going to buy the box, but you're going to put these inside instead."

The maid hesitated. "What are they?"

"Vitamins," Ilene lied smoothly. "My special vitamins for my heart. Strong ones. Just to give her a little scare."

The maid looked at the money. It was more than she made in three months. She took the bottle.

The Corridor.

Alessandra opened her eyes. She checked her clutch.

Inside the hidden lining, tucked away where no one could see, was a blister pack. She had called a 24-hour courier service the moment she woke up in this timeline, instructing them to purchase the item and deliver it to her name at the gala's coat check. The receipt was tucked neatly beside it.

She knew Ilene. She knew Ilene couldn't resist a trap.

Alessandra wasn't walking into a trap. She was setting the jaws of one.

"Hurry up," she whispered to the empty hallway. "I want to see the look on your face when it snaps shut."