Page 74 of Man of the Year

Knives out.

At this point, nothing is off limits. Not even murder.

FIFTY-SEVEN

NATALIE

When I open my eyes, all I see is beige carpeting. It’s dim. The brightest spot is the rectangular shape of an open doorway that leads into a large room.

I’m lying on the floor.

The sound of footsteps somewhere means I’m not alone, but when I move to see what’s happening, my body doesn’t listen. Shaking my head helps my vision to focus just a tad, but my body still won’t obey. Then I feel it—the restraints, something holding my wrists and ankles. I make an effort to move, but that only makes them cut deeper into my skin.

I whimper, but something clogs my mouth—a gag.

I try to search my foggy memory for the last thing I remember.

Café. Rich. Accident. Nick. Car ride.

Car ride with Nick! He injected me with something!

The footsteps approach, and familiar blue sneakers appear in front of me. I look up and see Nick staring down at me.

“You are awake. Good.”

Nick sits down on his haunches and yanks the cloth out of my mouth.

“Wh-wha—” I swallow hard and lick my lips, trying to unwind my tongue.

“You know,” he says, “I didn’t take you for a sneaky one. Adventurous, yes. Hard-working—maybe. Smart—doubtful. After all, you can’t even follow simple rules.”

His spiteful words don’t match the charming smile that used to be permanent on his lips, now gone.

“But sneaky?” he continues. “Didn’t see that coming. I thought you’d be a mediocre gold digger at best. But look at you, you managed to get tied up with that lowlife, Rich.”

“I didn’t,” I mumble slowly. “I don’t?—”

He grabs my jaw with his hand, and his fingers dig into my cheeks so hard that I wince and whimper, feeling my molars being crushed by the force. For a moment, the world goes dark as the sharp pain takes over, then Nick pushes my face away from him.

“I don’t need to hear what you have to say. Yet,” he spits out. “The less you lie, the easier I will make this for you.”

His sudden violence is shocking. Another whimper leaves my mouth. I move my jaw, trying to process the pain, as my eyes burn with tears.

Nick gives me a menacing smile. The dreadful realization washes over me—he’s a psychopath. He’s enjoying this.

“Now, the question is…” He sucks his teeth, studying me. “Red pill or blue pill?”

I frown, not understanding. Is that a reference toThe Matrix? Harsh truth or blissful ignorance?

“What does that mean?” I ask in a half-whisper.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two cartridges, red and blue.

My senses slowly start coming back, and with them, dread at the sight of the syringe cartridges. The red one is something mild that he used on me in the car. The other one is what he probably used on Cara and Darla. That means?—

“You are figuring it out, aren’t you, doll?” Nick smirks. “This”—he picks out the red one—“will make you go night-night for some time again. I have an important board meeting today, then I’ll deal with you.”

I swallow hard, staring at the blue cartridge. Nick notices and raises it in the air like he’s offering candy to a little girl.

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