Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 14
– Afternoon
Miles knocked politely and stepped into Ivory’s office, tablet in hand. “Ms. Bennett, your father’s assistant just confirmed the arrangement for tonight. You’re expected at Le Chateau by seven PM sharp for your date with Mr. Whitfield.”
Ivory sighed heavily, rubbing her temple. “Fine. Tell Duane to have the car ready by six.”
“Yes, ma’am. Also, will you be needing anything specific brought along tonight?”
Ivory’s lips curled into a small, private smile. “Actually, yes. Have someone retrieve the small black box from the top shelf of my closet at home. Have it in the car by six as well.”
Miles didn’t ask what was inside. He’d learned better than that. “Of course, Ms. Bennett.”
Prestige High School – Cafeteria – Noon
Hazel and Penelope sat with their trays, half-eating, half-scrolling through their phones, sunlight streaming through the tall cafeteria windows.
Across the room, Emilia’s face had gone thunderous, her eyes locked on her own phone screen as a video played — Mitchell, laughing candidly, caught in the background of one of Hazel’s earlier livestreams. The clip had exploded overnight, racking up views far beyond anything Emilia had managed on her own channel in months.
Emilia shoved back from her table and stormed over, slamming her tray down hard enough to make Penelope jump.
“You did this on purpose,” she snapped, jabbing a finger toward Hazel’s phone.
Hazel blinked up at her, genuinely confused. “Did what, exactly?”
“Don’t play stupid. You put Mitchell in your video on purpose! You knew it would get views!”
“I didn’t ‘put’ anyone anywhere, Emilia. He was just there. In the background. Existing. Like people generally do when they occupy physical space.”
“How convenient that it happened to work out so well for you.”
Hazel set down her fork slowly, deliberately. “Jealous, maybe? It’s a whole thing you might want to look into.”
Emilia’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. “You think you’re better than everyone else just because you’re a Bennett. Just because you have money and a name people bow to.”
“No,” Hazel said, rising slowly from her seat, her voice cool and even. “I think I’m better than you specifically because I don’t need to use other people to get attention. There’s a difference.”
Penelope tugged urgently at Hazel’s sleeve. “Guys, please, not here, everyone’s staring—”
Mitchell appeared beside them at that exact moment, tray balanced carefully in hand, glancing warily between the two furious girls.
“What’s going on over here?”
“Nothing,” Emilia said, her entire demeanor flipping instantly to sugary sweetness. “Just clearing up a small misunderstanding.”
Hazel rolled her eyes hard enough that it was practically audible and sat back down. “Sure you were. Totally believable.”
Emilia shot one final glare in Hazel’s direction before turning on her heel and stalking off, tray still abandoned on their table.
Mitchell slid into the now-empty seat across from Hazel. “What was that actually about?”
Rodriguez Group of Companies – Afternoon
Abigail worked steadily at her desk, reviewing quarterly figures spread across three separate monitors, when she noticed Tyler’s chair sitting empty for longer than usual.
Curious, she wandered down the hallway and found the washroom door slightly ajar, his voice drifting out low and tense.
“I told you to stop calling this number,” he was hissing into his phone. “My wife absolutely cannot know about this. Do you understand me? Never call me again. Not on this line, not on any line.”
Abigail froze just outside the door, her heart suddenly pounding hard against her ribs.
She didn’t wait to hear anything more. She backed away quietly, careful not to let her heels click against the tile, and hurried back toward her desk before he could catch her standing there.
By the time Tyler emerged minutes later, straightening his tie, expression perfectly composed, Abigail was already back at her monitors, typing steadily, pretending with everything she had that her pulse wasn’t still racing beneath the surface.
Brooke Residence – Afternoon
Celeste hummed softly to herself, flipping a pancake with practiced ease in the small kitchen, warm afternoon sunlight pouring through the window for what felt like the first time in weeks.
Her phone buzzed sharply against the counter.
She wiped her hands quickly on a dish towel and picked it up, glancing at the notification on the screen.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Another transfer. Half a million, deposited just minutes ago, sender still listed as anonymous.
She screamed — a short, sharp, disbelieving sound — and very nearly dropped the phone straight into the pancake batter.
“LUIS!” she shouted, voice cracking with equal parts shock and joy. “LUIS, COME QUICK, RIGHT NOW!”
7:00 PM – Road to the Date
The car cut smoothly through the thickening evening traffic, city lights beginning to flicker on one by one against the darkening sky.
Ivory sat in the back seat, dressed in a flowing green silk gown that hugged her figure with expensive precision, her makeup flawless, her expression carefully composed into practiced stone. Beside her on the seat sat a small, unmarked black box.
Duane glanced at it briefly in the rearview mirror. “What’s in the box?”
“None of your business.”
“Just making polite conversation.”
“Don’t. I’m not in the mood.”
They arrived at the restaurant shortly after — sleek, exclusive, the kind of establishment with a waiting list stretching months into the future. Duane parked smoothly and walked her to the entrance, retreating afterward to the small waiting area near the reception desk to pass the time until she was finished.
The receptionist, a young woman in a crisp uniform, kept sneaking glances his way, her cheeks flushing pink every single time he happened to catch her looking.
Meanwhile, Ivory was led through the dim, elegant dining room to a private table where a man sat waiting, visibly nervous, adjusting his cufflinks over and over again.
He stood quickly as she approached, extending his hand with a hopeful, slightly trembling smile. “You must be Ivory. I’m Norman. It’s truly a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Ivory looked him up and down slowly, deliberately, cataloguing every flaw with cold precision — the slightly too-tight suit straining across his shoulders, the nervous sheen of sweat already gathering at his hairline, the way his smile wobbled uncertainly at the edges under her scrutiny.
“What an ugly name,” she said flatly, making no move whatsoever to take his outstretched hand. “Norman. No wonder you’re not exactly normal.”
Norman blinked rapidly, clearly caught off guard, but he recovered gamely with a strained, nervous laugh. “I’ll… forgive you for that one.”
“I wasn’t asking for your forgiveness.”
She sat down without waiting for him to pull out her chair, and for the next several minutes, systematically tore into him without a shred of mercy — his suit, his cologne, his conversation topics, his awkward laugh, his family’s business ventures, even the precise, fussy way he held his fork between courses.
Norman absorbed it all with increasingly forced, brittle smiles, clearly determined not to let her scare him off no matter how thoroughly she tried.
Finally, Ivory reached down beside her and lifted the small black box onto her lap. She cracked it open just enough for only him to glimpse the contents.
Inside sat a toy gun — sleek, matte black, disturbingly realistic in the dim restaurant lighting.
It looks to real to be called a toy
She angled it discreetly beneath the table, aiming it toward his leg with practiced ease.
“Here’s exactly what’s going to happen,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper, all traces of playfulness completely gone from her expression. “You’re going to go home tonight, and you’re going to tell my parents that you don’t like me. That there’s no connection whatsoever between us. That this entire arrangement is off, permanently. Or I destroy your leg right here, right now, in front of everyone in this restaurant. Do you understand me, Abnormal?”
Norman’s face drained of all color, going ghostly pale beneath the restaurant’s warm lighting.
His mouth opened. No sound came out at all.
Then, with a horrified, strangled little noise catching in his throat, warmth spread visibly across the front of his trousers.
The table went completely silent.
He just peed on his trouser.
TBC
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