Page 113 of The Arrogant's Redemption

My mind, trained to connect dots quickly—the very reason my show is so successful—races through all the possibilities.

I remember my conversation with Mr. Matheus Berardi, the lawyer who believed the plot had been orchestrated by an unknown enemy.

Morrison?

Could it be possible?

Did they know each other?

I start trembling all over, fumbling to pull my phone from the back pocket of my shorts.

I type a message to the only person who can help us if this man means us harm:

Badger, I need you to come to LJ’s cousin’s house immediately. Please don’t make any noise when you arrive. We’ll be in the basement. Maybe I’m crazy, but my gut says we’re in danger.

Before heading down to the basement, I go back to the kitchen and grab a knife. I try to run toward where my mom is with Taylor and Brooklyn, but my legs feel like they weigh a ton. I feel sluggish, but I force myself to keep moving, trying to dial the police at the same time.

The screen of my phone blurs before my eyes. I can't even remember the emergency number, and I end up giving up altogether.

The club is silent, and when I step onto the last stair, I understand why. My mother and my friends are tied to chairs, sitting side by side, their mouths taped shut.

I try to scream, but before I can, a strong hand clamps over my lips.

Yes, a strong hand—not the weak hand of someone who could barely stand.

And that’s when I realize he was faking it.

Morrison is truly our hidden enemy.

"Took you long enough, moron," he sneers, grabbing me by the hair and dragging me to a chair that I now realize has been prepared for me.

He ties me up just like he did to the others and tapes my mouth shut too. To my surprise, he rips the tape off my mom’s mouth.

"Don’t touch my daughter, sir," is the first thing she says.

His eyes widen, his face twisting into a mask of rage. Suddenly, he screams. Not a scream of anger—a guttural, wounded animalistic roar.

"Sir?You call mesir, Marla? What do I have to do to make you remember me, huh? To make myself unforgettable?"

I look at my mom, confused, but she seems just as lost as I am and asks, "Do we know each other?"

He screams again and tapes her mouth shut once more. "I need you to stay quiet, Marla, or I’ll end up killing you too soon. And make no mistake—this time, I will kill you. I’ll make sure you don’t leave here alive. It’s the only way to get you out of my head and finally have some peace," he says, tapping his fingers against his temple.

I have no doubt now—he's completely insane.

"I’m going to tell you a story so you have something to think about on your way to hell," he says.

I can barely breathe from the tension, staying as still as I can, praying for Badger to arrive quickly.

I'm feeling drowsy and realize that my mom is the most sober among us; she hardly drank. In fact, I’m not even sure she had any champagne at all. Now I know—he drugged us through the drink. That’s why he was so eager last night, calling so late to check if we’d had some. Going straight to bed must have frustrated his plans—maybe he intended to catch us in our rooms, even more vulnerable.

"Once upon a time . . .” he starts, then breaks into maniacal laughter, as if he wasn’t raging just moments ago. "Fuck fairy tales. I’ll get straight to the point. The first time I saw you, Marla, you were still very young—the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on. Of course, you weren’t good enough for me. Poor, messy . . . but I knew that once I made you mine, I’d cover you in silk and gold. You were working in some goddamn café," he narrates, shaking his head in disdain, and I glance at my mother.

She looks terrified—just like the rest of us—because we can all see now just how deep Morrison Seymour’s madness runs. If what he’s saying is true, he’s been obsessed with her since before I was even born.

"I asked you out. Me, Morrison Seymour—a billionaire from one of the most powerful families in the country. A master’s student, way above your reality, and you, my favorite little whore, smiled, thanked me, and saidno. Your exact words were: 'Thank you, sir, but I’m already engaged . . . and pregnant.' Right then, I knew what it was to love and hate someone at the same time. Pregnant! You were pregnant with someone else's baby—the ultimate betrayal."

Even if we didn’t have our mouths taped shut, there would be no point trying to explain to him that my mother had been pregnant long before meeting him. He’s created his own twisted reality—and moved right in.

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