Chapter 2: The Party, the Betrayal, and the Dare

Without realizing it, I’d been in the lake house for a month. After that face-flushing, heart-thumping kiss, Graham hadn’t touched me again. It was summer break, so there was no school. Graham naturally monopolized all my time.

The house was huge—home theater, game room, gym, sunroom with a giant beanbag. Out back: lawn for horseback riding, tennis, golf. If I wanted to go out, he’d helicopter me to the Galleria, book the whole mall, and swipe his eight-figure card. Every day my diet was balanced, I slept eight hours, went wherever I wanted. After a month, my skin glowed; nobody would believe I was the fake heiress kicked out just weeks ago.

So when I got the invitation, I was stunned: "A party to welcome the real heiress back to the Brooks family—why invite me?"

Graham flipped the invite. "Lila Brooks specifically named you. Probably wants to show off."

"Are you going?" he asked. I thought for a second, then nodded: "Yeah."

The Brooks family party was as lavish as ever. Luxurious, crowded, all for show. But the self-serve desserts sucked. I wrinkled my nose, ate three mini cupcakes, then Lila finally swept in. She wore the latest Dior, strutted over, and flashed her diamond ring: "Natalie, Carter just proposed to me."

She curled her lips in a nasty smile. "As for you, if no one wants you and you can’t survive, maybe I could ask Mom and Dad to let you be my housekeeper."

I was a little dazed. I just stopped being a rich girl for a month, and now there’s a new position as a housekeeper?

Ex-fiancé Carter rushed over, pulling Lila aside. "Don’t make things hard for Natalie."

Lila’s face snapped: "You’re still thinking about this homewrecker, aren’t you?" Carter, exasperated, dragged her away. Twenty minutes later, he came back. He looked at me, eyes red: "Sorry, Natalie, for saying those hurtful things to you before. I was just too emotional. I didn’t mean it."

He turned away: "I know, my uncle forced you, locked you up. You’ve suffered a lot during this time."

Carter took my hand, slipped a packet of pills into it, and whispered: "There’s something only you can help me with. This is a strong aphrodisiac. Tonight, slip it into my uncle’s wine—he’ll let his guard down around you. I’ve arranged everything that comes next. Even if he doesn’t get seriously hurt, at least his reputation will be ruined, and it’ll be easier for me to take over the Carter family."

He looked deep into my eyes, speaking earnestly: "I know, you’ve always liked me. Just bear with it a little longer. When I take over the Carter family, I’ll break off the engagement with Lila and get you out."

His words were cold calculation, the gears turning behind his eyes. I smiled: "Okay."

I took the drug, then turned and handed him a glass of champagne: "Then it’s a deal."

Carter, eyes red, drank the glass. I smiled, waving: "Lila’s throwing a tantrum—go comfort her."

I watched Carter walk away, feeling weirdly light. I really had drugged someone. But it was in Carter’s champagne. Even if my IQ isn’t that high, you can’t treat me like an idiot. Whatever Carter’s next plan is, he can enjoy it himself.

I turned around in a good mood—and locked eyes with Graham.

My smile froze. Graham, in a custom suit, leaned against the wall, swirling a champagne glass. Who knows how long he’d been standing there. He set down the glass, a slow smile curling at his lips. He spoke softly, like a hunter toying with his prey: "Natalie, you wanted to drug me?"

His words made my knees weak. The world tilted, the party’s buzz fading into a low hum. He dragged me, dazed, out of the party and back to the Rolls-Royce.

In the underground garage, everything was silent. Only my pounding heartbeat. My eyes dropped, too guilty to look at him. Damn Carter, you got me into trouble!

I stammered, "I wasn’t going to drug you, it was for Carter."

Graham didn’t look angry. He opened the packet, reading the label: "IWE-4, new formula, lasts six hours."

He picked up a pill and, right in front of me, swallowed it. I stared, wide-eyed: "What are you doing?"

He said softly, "It takes half an hour to take effect."

It was as if invisible threads wove through the air, slowly coiling around me. Graham’s gun-callused fingers pinched my earlobe, gently rubbing, sending a shiver down my spine. His breath brushed my ear, cedarwood and danger curling around his words:

"The car door isn’t locked, sweetheart. You have half an hour to run. Otherwise, even if you scream yourself hoarse, I won’t let you go."

Graham’s lips brushed my ear, his voice velvet and steel: "Run if you want. But tonight, I’m not letting you go." My pulse thundered—because for once, I wasn’t sure I wanted to escape.