Chapter 7:The transfer and the truth
701 Words
*1:14 AM. Kelvin’s Study.*
I couldn’t sleep.
Not after “Michael works for me” and “Part of the show.”
Hate is a weapon. But weapons need ammo.
I was back at the desk.
The biometric lock was still broken from the earring. Stupid CEO. Thinks everyone is scared of him.
I wasn’t looking for Dad’s file. Not yet.
I was looking for Michael.
*Search: MICHAEL HALE. PAYMENTS.*
3 results.
The last one made my vision go red.
*K. CORP. → M. HALE. £200,000. 14.03.2023. Reference: DEBT CLEARANCE.*
14.03.2023.
Dad’s funeral was 15.03.2023.
He got paid the day before we buried him.
My hands shook. Not from fear. From betrayal.
£200K. Gambling debt. Loan sharks.
I remembered the calls. 2 years ago. `“Jenna, I’m in trouble. Don’t tell Dad.”` I sent him £500 from my savings. That was all I had.
He never said how much.
Because it was £200K.
And Kelvin paid it.
*Attachment: CONTRACT M. HALE.*
I clicked.
`Clause 1: Michael Hale will perform contracted theatrical services for 24 months.`
`Clause 2: Services include, but are not limited to: staged threat, emotional manipulation of subject Jenna Hale.`
`Clause 3: Subject must be compelled into 1-year marriage contract with K. Kelvin.`
Theatrical services.
A gun with no bullets. Tears on command. A brother pretending to die.
I closed my eyes.
For 2 years I thought he was dead. I cried at an empty grave.
He was in Kelvin’s payroll the whole time.
The door opened.
I didn’t look up.
“Find what you were looking for?” Kelvin’s voice.
Cold. Bored. Like he expected me here.
“Your receipt.” I turned the laptop to him. £200,000. Red text.
He didn’t deny it.
“Yes.”
“You bought my brother.”
“I saved his hands.” He stepped inside. “Loan sharks don’t send letters, Jenna. They send knives.”
“So you own him.”
“I own the debt.” He corrected. “He chose to work it off.”
I stood. The chair scraped loud.
“Did you tell him to cry? Did you tell him to put the gun to his head?” My voice cracked. “Was that in Clause 1?”
Kelvin’s jaw tightened. First crack tonight.
“He improvised.”
“Liar.” I walked to him. 2 feet apart now. “You wrote the script. Because you knew I’d sign for him. Because you killed Dad.”
There it was.
The room went dead.
Kelvin didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
“Yes.”
One word.
No denial. No ‘it was business’. Just yes.
Air left my lungs.
“You forged it.” My voice was quiet. “Dad’s signature. On the merger. You collapsed his firm. Insurance denied. Heart attack. 42 years old.”
“I know the timeline.”
“Why?”
He stepped closer. 1 foot.
“Because Hale Construction underbid me on 3 projects. Because your father went to the press and called me a thief.” His eyes were black. “And because I don’t lose.”
Monsters don’t apologize.
I believed him now.
My fist came up before I thought.
I hit his chest. Hard.
He didn’t stop me.
Again.
And again.
“You killed him,” I whispered. “You killed him and you made my brother help.”
Kelvin caught my wrists on the third hit.
Not gentle.
“Stop.”
I looked up at him. Tears hot. Rage hotter.
“Let go.”
“No.” His thumb pressed my pulse. “Because you need to hear this, Jenna. I’m the bad guy. I always have been. So stop pretending you’re here for justice.”
“What else is there?”
“Revenge.” His voice dropped. “You have 364 days left in this contract. Use them.”
He let go.
I stumbled back.
For a second, I thought he’d kiss me. Or break me.
He did neither.
He picked up the laptop. Closed it.
“Your room. Now.”
I didn’t argue.
Because for the first time since I walked into his house, I wasn’t scared of him.
I was ready for him.
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- Writer
