The Plaything Plays Them All

Chapter 3 Uncle Brayley

Back in her room, Catherine stepped into the shower.

The wild s*x of last night—it was the only time she had ever truly enjoyed herself.

Louis. When she was little, he had saved her once. He even promised he'd always protect her.

'Years have passed,' she thought, her hand pressing against the cool tiles. 'And even though he's forgotten me, I remember.'

That promise was the one thing that had kept her going all these years.

Now she had finally had him. Even if it was only for one night, that was enough.

'He might not remember me,' she told herself again, the hot water running down her back, 'but that doesn't matter.'

Catherine was sure she'd left him with a new kind of memory. The marks on her body were proof of that.

The day of the party arrived soon enough.

Despite the argument with her father, Catherine still attended the event with Andrew.

More than anything, she was desperate to free herself from her father's control.

Andrew, her fiancé, was a complete fool. She didn't have to worry about how she acted in front of him.

He was supposed to be an Ivy League-educated engineer, but he was naive to the point of stupidity. All Catherine had to do was flash him a sweet smile every so often, and that would be enough to silence his attempts at conversation.

The real threat came from Andrew's uncle.

The moment Catherine laid eyes on Brayley Everett and his neatly trimmed goatee, she knew he was bad news. He was one of those men—strict and proper on the surface, but lecherous and rotten underneath.

"Catherine, it's been too long. You've grown even more beautiful. You two are such a perfect match."

Brayley's smile was warm, the picture of a doting uncle praising his nephew and his future wife.

But Catherine could feel the bile rising in her throat as his hand landed on her shoulder.

'Disgusting old bastard.'

Without missing a beat, she slipped away, moving closer to Andrew, seeking refuge in his arms.

"Thank you for the compliment. It's all thanks to Andrew's taste. He always picks out things that match me perfectly. Isn't that right, Andrew?"

Catherine's dress for the night was chosen solely to match Andrew's preferences.

Honestly, she felt like a frosted cake, all dressed up to sweeten the deal between an old pervert and a clueless i***t.

Brayley smiled at her again, but his gaze was sharper, more calculated.

'This girl is smart, but she still hasn't figured out who she really needs to impress,' he thought. Alvin wanted the family's prized sapphire necklace, and Brayley was the one holding it—not Andrew, his naive nephew.

"Oh, Andrew," Brayley said suddenly, "I've brought a gift for Catherine, but I left it in the car. Would you mind fetching it for me?"

Catherine's smile froze, but before she could stop him, Andrew was already on his way.

"It's too valuable to leave with the staff. I wouldn't trust anyone but you to handle it, Andrew," Brayley added with a sigh.

Andrew had barely left the room when Brayley moved closer to Catherine again.

"Andrew might need my help..." he said softly, his breath too close for comfort.

Catherine smiled, stepping back slightly as Brayley's hand once again found her shoulder, brushing against her like he was wiping something off.

"Let's not beat around the bush, Catherine," he said, his tone dropping. "Your father and I made a deal. I know why you're engaged to Andrew, but you should know that the key to the safe holding that necklace—it's with me, not Andrew."

"What are you talking about?"

Catherine's smile vanished. His words hit her like a slap, too much to fully process in the moment.

Her father had already made a deal with Brayley. But what kind of deal?

"Stop pretending. Alvin's told me everything. I know you're not some innocent little girl."

Brayley's hand stayed on her shoulder, now moving slowly, his expression darkening with greed.

"He promised me you, not Andrew. Hasn't your father told you yet? Alvin loves his jewels, and I love young women. Everyone gets what they want. It's perfect."

'Perfect. How perfect,' Catherine thought, her stomach churning.

Her dear father had made the perfect deal—keeping her in the dark, using her just like he had used everyone else.

Grinding her teeth, Catherine forced back the wave of nausea and smiled, her hand closing over Brayley's liver-spotted fingers.

"Tell me more," she said sweetly. "When did my father make this deal with you? What else do you know?"

"You're a smart girl, Catherine. Alvin's raised you well. He didn't even flinch when he promised you to me. Sometimes I think I'm a selfish man, but when I meet someone like your father, I feel like a saint."

Ignoring his disgusting praise, Catherine gently led him toward the garden.

'He knows everything,' she thought, her pulse quickening. 'I need to know how long my father's been planning this.'

"Shortly after you got engaged to Andrew, your father figured out that I own the necklace, not my nephew. He came straight to me, asking what it would take for me to hand it over. I told him that necklace is meant for the family's future daughter-in-law, but as long as I'm alive, Andrew isn't getting his hands on it. So, he had no chance of getting that necklace. Unless—"

Brayley's lips curled into a smug smile.

"Unless he gives me to you?" Catherine's voice was ice-cold.

"Unless he gives me his youngest daughter, Daisy."

Brayley's smile turned sinister, his eyes gleaming as he watched her reaction, like a predator savoring his prey.

"I asked for your little sister, but guess what? He refused. Instead, he started talking you up. Said you were ten times better than Daisy. Said if I gave him the necklace, he'd give you to me—for three years, as my mistress."