Meeting Ethan Cornelius
I stared at him.
“You want me to pretend to be a male model?!!"
The folder landed on the table with a soft thud. I looked down at the name printed on the front.
Ethan Cornelius.
Marcus didn’t say anything at first, He only watched me as I opened it.
As I flipped through the pages some photographs were attached.
A man stepping out of a black Mercedes‑Maybach S‑Class, one polished shoe touching the pavement first. The door held open by a driver in white gloves.
In the next picture: He stood straight, his shoulders were broad beneath a perfectl suit. One hand was slipped into his pocket.
He had a sharp jawline. His dark hair was pushed back. He also had an expensive watch on his wrist.
I flipped to another page.
There was another photograph: Male models.
Tall and perfectly built.
Marcus finally leaned forward.
“Do you notice something?”
I kept turning the pages.
Ten models one month. Another ten the next month. Not a single woman.
I let out a small breath.
“So people thinks he likes men.”
Marcus gave a slow shrug.
“No woman has ever lasted ten minutes near him.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“These rivals have tried sending actresses. Models. Escorts. Socialites. Even random women.” His lips curved faintly. “Some even drugged him.”
My eyes lifted in amusement
“And?”
“Nothing.” Marcus spread his hands. “He throws them out.”
I turned another page. There was a newspaper clipping.
THE FACELESS KING OF CORNELIUS CONSTRUCTIONS.
"He owns a lot of construction projects. Hotels. High end restaurants with waiting lists months long. Underground poker rooms."
I closed the folder.
“And what does this have to do with me?”
Marcus tapped on the picture of the models.
“There's an agency brings them every month.”
My fingers stilled.
“Wait.... don't tell me that you want me to…”
“Blend in.” Marcus smiled faintly. “You’re slim. Tall enough. You could use a wig and with the right clothes and makeup, no one will ever notice.”
I stared at him.
“You want me to pretend to be a male model?
“Yes, just for tonight. It'll be fun.” Marcus said with a smile.
My eyes looked back to the picture of Ethan Cornelius, my mind pondered on one question. Why does he always wear a mask?
The camera had captured him while walking.
In all the pictures, security guards blocked the cameras and they could only take pictures from blind spots.
Men like him didn’t get photographed easily.
Marcus lowered his voice as he spoke.
“Tycoons. Loan sharks. Investors. Celebrities.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “They all want to know what he looks like when the mask is taken off.”
“ They want bedroom pictures. They need leverage. They want to be in control of Ethan Cornelius.”
I looked at the photo again. The expensive car. He didn’t look like someone who's easy to fool.
Marcus watched my face carefully.
“Can you do it?”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I asked the only thing that mattered.
“How much?”
Marcus smiled.
“Seven figures if you get the bedroom shots.”
I held my breath.
Seven figures.
The hospital room flashed before my eyes and I saw my sister laying lifeless on the bed. My ears still remembered the sound of those machines, they beeped every second.
Seven figures. That's enough for surgery.
Enough for a new life.
I slowly closed the file.
“Fine. I accept the job.”
Marcus smiled. “Good.”
“When do I start?” I asked.
Marcus checked his watch. “Tonight.”
My eyebrows rose. “That fast?”
“I already spoke to someone who works at the agency.” He pushed a card across the table. “They have nine models.”
His eyes looked at mine.
“They’ll be expecting you.”
I picked up the card. It had an address in Manhattan.
Marcus added quietly,
“One last thing.”
I paused with my hand on the handle.
“If he figures out you’re a woman…”
Marcus eyes stared directly at mine.
“See you on the other side. Good luck.” he said as he gave a playful salute and I nodded.
Tonight I would sneak into the house of the most dangerous billionaire in New York.
Pretending to be someone I wasn’t.
All for money.
All for my sister.
