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His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 649    |    Released on: 01/07/2025

y breath coming in ragged gasps. He w

had stood up to him, I had refused, and he had left. Maybe that was th

marter part of

grouping. The

nks she won tha

k Johnson, a predator who built his fame on control and manipulation, wouldn't give up that easily

like a fishbowl. A trap. The huge windows that I loved for their light and views now

was working on. How? The question hammered in my brain. Did he r

y jealous of me landing the Horizon Tower project. Could she

could stay here, behind a locked door, until my brother

public, brighter, with a security guard at the fr

bby was the

st look at my desk. Then I walked to the door, my hand hesit

fear paralyze me. I had a plan. Lobby

, silent hallway. It was clear. I walked quickly, almost runni

he floor numbers decrease, my reflection in the

y lit and thankfully, empty, except for the security guard, an older man

lief. This was bett

rge," I said, my v

. Miller. Working late again

rcing a smile. "Just waiting fo

rning his attention back

the main entrance and the elevators. I pulled out my phone. 12 minutes u

r pass by on the wet street. I tried to calm my racing heart, focus

thers were coming. I was in a public pl

s wr

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His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth
His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth
“The fluorescent hum of the deserted office was my constant companion, a symphony to my late-night grind as an architect, building dreams one blueprint at a time. Then, out of nowhere, text shimmered in the air, a chilling heads-up display only I could see: "[Target acquired: The Architect. She' s working late again. Perfect.]" My blood ran cold as more lines appeared, taunting me with plans for a "Chivalry Challenge" at a $5,700 prize. It finally clicked-Mark Johnson, that slimy social media influencer who' d turn women' s fear into profit, had found me. He came, smooth as ever, with a drugged coffee, mocking me while I fought through a fogged mind, my desperate calls for help swallowed by his practiced lies to the security guard. My brothers came back for me, their faces illuminated by flashing lights, my last-ditch effort to crash his car paying off just as I succumbed to the drug. But the nightmare wasn' t over; Mark walked free, his lawyer spinning tales of my "manic episodes," leaving my brother Chris to face assault charges for defending me. The injustice burned, fueling a rage that cleared the haze: he wouldn't win, not if I could help it. "This isn't over," I declared, my voice steady, eyes fixed on my brothers, ready to dismantle his empire. Then Michael sent me the link-Mark' s new video, painting me as the aggressor, a "crazy" woman. Scrolling through the venomous comments, one caught my eye: "DesignDiva88," my colleague Lisa Chen, claiming she' d told him to "back off." She was complicit, a willing accessory, and with that, I knew exactly how to begin.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 10