Chapter 9
970 Words
POV: Brad Miles
The café smelled like roasted arrogance and burnt ambition, the kind of place where power dressed itself in designer suits and quiet tones. I had chosen the table near the frosted windows for privacy. Miami’s early evening sun filtered in with a golden glow, but nothing about this meeting was warm.
Brielle Madden sat across from me, her posture as crisp as the white collar peeking out from her blazer. Her manicured fingers toyed with a small silver pen, but her eyes, sharp and scanning, never left mine.
“He suspects,” I said flatly, dropping the bomb I had been holding onto since my visit to the detention centre.
Her brow arched ever so slightly. “Of you?”
I nodded. “Not yet. But it’s crawling up the back of his mind that someone is behind this. I could see it in their eyes. And worse, Naomi Clarke is involved. She showed up yesterday with Melanie. They’re building something quietly, but aggressively.”
Brielle didn’t flinch. She just leaned back and folded her arms.
“Naomi,” she murmured. “Of course.”
Her voice held a note I couldn’t quite place. It sounded like contempt and bitter history.
I continued, “They’ve started pulling threads. They suspect Camila has backing. Melanie thinks it’s a setup. Naomi is pushing for financial audits, timelines, and digital trails. She’s good and sharp, scary sharp.”
“Naomi is good, but time and again I have proven to always be one step ahead of her cute monkey face, outwitting that little brain of hers housed in that black skull” Brielle gave cheeky remarks with an even cheekier grin.
Remarks which asides proving she was racist, also confirmed that she had history with Naomi.
I turned as Camila Reyes approached our table. She was dressed like she belonged in a boardroom, not a nightclub, a sand-coloured coat, sleek pants, gold hoops glinting under the café lights. But despite her polished appearance, there was a war behind her eyes.
She slid into the seat beside me without a greeting. Her gaze flicked from me to Brielle.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, though she didn’t sound particularly sorry.
“Don’t make a habit of it,” Brielle said without looking at her. “We were going over Brad’s visit to our golden boy.”
Camila crossed her legs, visibly tense. “How did it go?”
“He suspects a setup, but he doesn’t have proof. He’s starting to question things. Melanie’s pushing hard. And he’s not happy that you’ve lawyered up. That makes you look real.” I paused. “Too real.”
“I hope they won’t find anything?” Camila asked quickly.
Brielle raised a brow. “I’m not so sure about that, Naomi Clarke is strategist with a vendetta. If she smells a lie, she’ll dig till it dies.”
Camila’s shoulders stiffened. “You said I’d be protected.”
“I said you’d be prepared,” Brielle corrected. “Protection depends on performance. Stick to your story. Be the version of yourself that no jury can doubt. Vulnerable, afraid, and violated.”
Camila said nothing, but the way her fingers tightened around her coffee mug said enough.
“I cleaned the paper trail,” I offered. “Your payment was layered through enough channels to confuse even Naomi. Just don’t contradict yourself.”
“I haven’t,” Camila snapped, then lowered her voice. “I just didn’t think it would get this intense.”
“This is war,” Brielle said coldly. “And war doesn’t reward the faint-hearted.”
She pulled out a sealed envelope and slid it across the table to Camila.
“What’s this?” Camila asked.
“Your revised testimony. Read it. Memorize it. Cry over it. Whatever it takes to make it yours.”
Camila hesitated. Then took the envelope.
“The first public hearing is two days from now, we would stand in front of cameras,” Brielle continued. “You have to be flawless. No slips. No smirks. No signs of guilt.”
Camila’s expression faltered. “And what if they dig something up? What if they find out?”
“Then we all go down,” I said bluntly.
Brielle, however, was composed. “They won’t. Because we’ll stay ahead.”
Camila stood. “I need some air.”
She walked out without another word, heels clicking like a countdown.
I turned to Brielle. “She’s unravelling.”
“She’ll hold,” Brielle said, adjusting her cuffs. “She has no choice.”
I watched her closely. “You really think Naomi is that dangerous?”
Brielle finally looked at me, a flicker of something old and hard in her eyes.
“Naomi Clarke and I go back. Farther than you know. She won’t just fighting for her client. She’ll be fighting to settle some kind of scores between us.” Brielle smiled, sharp and slow.
“Scores of what kind?” I asked, in a bid to be sure of who we’re getting involved with.
“Let’s just say... she would want a win against me so badly.” Brielle exclaimed.
“Oh, I see the angle now” I affirmed softly.
“Yeah, this should be fun” She added with a wicked smirk.
“Speaking of fun, how about my place? You could spend the night” I suggested with an eye of dirty intentions. One which she seemed to match instantly.
“I got a couple more paperwork to review at the office, but… I should be able make it over” she replied.
“Alright then, don’t keep me waiting for too long” I said. I got up to take my leave while she stayed behind a little longer.
- Writer
