Chapter 94: Dangerous Games and Whispers
Micah’s POV
I should have just stayed home and gone straight to bed after eating dinner. My body was completely exhausted, my muscles burned from stress, and my head felt like it was going to split open. But how on earth could I sleep after everything I had heard from Noah?
How could anyone just lie down and close their eyes after learning the horrific truth about our father?
No... not our father. Bernard Miller.
The monster who raised us wasn’t our blood. He was the cold-blooded murderer who slaughtered my biological father and Noah’s father. The realization made my stomach churn violently. Every single childhood memory I had of Bernard... every harsh word, every disgust-filled glare, every time he called me a useless ’mother killer’—was built on a foundation of blood and lies. He didn’t hate me because I was a difficult child. He hated me because he had butchered my real family, stolen my life, and forced me to beg for his affection like a pathetic dog.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the cab rattled down the highway, my hands trembling violently in my lap. I felt sick. I felt betrayed, furious, and utterly terrified.
Noah had promised me that once his revenge against Bernard was over, he would transfer every single thing my real father owned directly to me. He said it belonged to me anyway as the only surviving heir. But despite that promise, I knew I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. I needed to have something of my own. I needed a job. I needed my own money.
The truth was, I didn’t remember a single thing about my real father. I didn’t know his face, his voice, or his name. I had no idea what he actually had to his name before Bernard murdered him. For all I knew, my real father might have owned nothing more than a tiny, falling-apart hut in the middle of nowhere and a beat-down, rusted car. Who knew?
I couldn’t live off the ghost of a man I didn’t know. And more than that, I had no idea how long Noah’s revenge was going to take, or what crazy scheme Bernard was planning next. If Noah’s plan failed, or if Bernard struck first, we could lose everything in an instant. Even if Noah succeeded, I refused to end up completely dependent on him, trapped in his gilded cage forever.
I needed my own safety net. I still had enough time to gather some money on my own, and working at Phoenix’s club was the fastest way to get it.
A sharp spike of guilt pierced my chest as Damon’s face flashed across my mind. I had left him standing in the middle of the street outside the house, surrounded by Noah’s threats.
I loved Noah with every fiber of my soul—he was my childhood, my protector, my dark obsession—but every time Damon looked at me, my heart thrashed in my ribs like a wild animal. I was a terrible person. I was playing a dangerous, sinful game with both of them, and if I wasn’t careful, the fire would consume me entirely.
Focus, Micah, I scolded myself, taking a deep, shaky breath. You need money. You need freedom. That’s all that matters right now.
The cab pulled up to the curb outside the massive, sleek building of the Phoenix Club, its dark glass windows reflecting the neon lights of the city. I paid the driver, stepped out onto the cold pavement, and walked straight toward the entrance.
Yesterday, I had to stand in a miserable, humiliating line while the bouncers treated me like absolute trash. Today, I didn’t even need to slow down.
The moment I approached the heavy double doors, the two massive, burly guards who had almost thrown me into the street yesterday caught sight of me. Their eyes widened in pure horror. They turned so pale they looked like they were about to pee themselves right on the spot. Panic flashed across their faces as they scrambled over each other to pull the massive double doors open for me before I could even reach the handle.
Deep down inside my chest, a sudden, thrilling wave of pride flared up. It felt so damn good that I desperately wanted to stop, turn around, and give them a petty, gloating IN-YOUR-FACE look. After how horribly they had treated me yesterday, acting like I was dirt beneath their boots, they now dared to act like I was royalty. They even bowed their heads in deep respect as I walked past the entrance, not daring to make eye contact with me.
I kept my head held high, sneered internally, and strutted right past them without sparing them a single glance.
I walked straight through the extravagant, marble-floored main hall toward the private, hidden corridor where the VIP elevator was located. This elevator led directly up to Phoenix’s top-floor executive office and some other places for staffs.
As I stood in front of the polished metallic doors, waiting for the elevator to descend, I reached into my bag. My fingers brushed against a piece of folded white paper. Eve had handed it to me yesterday, but silly me, I had been so utterly occupied with school, Damon, and Noah’s terrifying confession that I had completely forgotten to read it.
I pulled the paper out, carefully unfolding it with my trembling fingers. It was filled with notes detailing the rules of the VIP floor, instructions on how to handle high-profile guests, and specific guidelines regarding client management. As I scanned the lines, my heart beat faster. Working here wasn’t just a simple hosting job; it was walking on a tightrope over a pit of dangerous, powerful men.
Suddenly, the sharp sound of high heels clacking against the hard floor echoed down the quiet hallway. Someone was catwalk-strutting toward me.
I took my eyes off the paper for a brief second to see who it was. The person approaching did the exact same thing, pausing mid-step to stare directly at me.
The very second our eyes met, a loud, dramatic groan escaped from his lips.
"It’s you," Camille spat out, folding his arms tightly over his chest as he glared at me with pure disdain. "Do you have a hobby of stalking me or something?"
Stalking him? I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of his words. As if I didn’t have a million more important, life-or-death problems to deal with! As if my entire world wasn’t burning down around me!
DING.
The VIP elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. I completely ignored his ridiculous accusation, turned away from him, and stepped inside the spacious cabin.
Camille gasped loudly at being ignored. "Hey!" He huffed in annoyance and stepped in right beside me, lugging a mountain of glossy, high-end shopping bags filled with expensive designer shoes and luxury clothes. He looked like he had just returned from an aggressive shopping spree, trying to buy away his bad mood from yesterday.
The elevator doors slid shut, sealing us together in the quiet space.
Camille adjusted the heavy designer bags in his arms, his sharp eyes judging me up and down. "It seems like you aren’t staying at the lettings Phoenix arranged for us," he noted, his tone laced with fake curiosity and lingering bitterness.
I didn’t even look up from my paper. "Why?" I asked coolly. "You want me to stalk you?"
Camille gasped again and dramatically threw one of his heavy shopping bags behind him over his shoulder.
"I knew you were a poor, pathetic thing the second I met you yesterday!" Camille frowned deeply, stepping directly into my personal space. "Why would the great Phoenix like someone like you? What could he possibly see in a broke charity case?"
He suddenly leaned far too close to my face, his sharp features invading my vision. The overwhelming smell of his expensive perfume hit my nose, and I instantly flinched back, pressing my shoulders against the back wall of the elevator to get away from him.
Camille narrowed his eyes, analyzing my features with intense jealousy. "You’re pretty, I’ll give you that, but..."
Before I could even react to his backhanded compliment, Camille violently shoved his shopping bags right in my face, blocking my vision with luxury brand logos, before pulling them back with an arrogant sneer.
"And yesterday? I let you win," Camille declared, tilting his chin up proudly. "After doing a little dig up on George Jenson, I realized just how rich and powerful he actually is. I might want to serve him now and do anything to entertain him. Even if it’s a drug party."
My blood ran completely cold. My eyes widened in absolute shock, my heart hammering violently against my ribs as his words sank in.
"Drug party?!" I stammered, my voice cracking with pure terror. "Is... is that allowed here?!"
Camille’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk, delighted by my reaction.
DING.
The elevator arrived at the top floor, and the doors slid open smoothly.
"See you soon, bitch," Camille whispered maliciously.
He turned on his high heel and strutted out of the elevator cabin, his shopping bags swaying arrogantly behind him as he vanished down the private hallway toward the VIP lounges.
The elevator doors slowly began to slide shut again, leaving me standing completely frozen inside the cabin.
Did he just say drug party?!
A violent wave of cold sweat broke out across my forehead. My hands shook so hard that Eve’s paper nearly slipped from my fingers. Yesterday when I was in the VIP lounge, I had seen incredible luxury, expensive liquor, and wealthy men, but I hadn’t seen a single trace of illegal drugs! Was Camille telling the truth? Was George Jenson throwing illegal drug parties in Phoenix’s private rooms? Or was Camille just making wild, horrific assumptions to scare me away from taking the VIP client?
I stared down at Eve’s paper, but the written words blurred into an unrecognizable mess before my eyes. My mind was spiraling out of control into a nightmare of panic and paranoia. If Phoenix was allowing illegal drugs in this club, then this wasn’t just an elite lounge... it was a criminal syndicate operation. If the police raided this place while I was inside...
My throat seized up in absolute horror as images of police sirens, handcuffs, and dark prison cells flashed through my head.
Oh God... what have I gotten myself into?
I pressed a trembling hand against my chest, trying to stop my heart from bursting out of my ribcage as I silently prayed it wasn’t true.
I won’t get arrested, right?