Trapped in a Secret Marriage with a Dangerous Billionaire - Chapter 83

Chapter 83: A Shocking Realization

Victor jolted awake as a torrent of icy water splashed across his face, snapping him out of unconsciousness. Gasping, he tried to rise, but his body screamed with pain—his stomach bruised, his jaw throbbing.

Blinking rapidly, he struggled to focus on his surroundings. The dimly lit tent was sparse, and as he stumbled outside, a chill ran down his spine.

The scene before him was worse than any nightmare. Seven hulking men sat around a campfire, guns slung casually at their sides, each of their cold gazes following his every move. He froze, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Finally awake?” one of them sneered, a smirk twisting his lips. He glanced at another man—the one who had punched Victor into oblivion hours before. “Guess you didn’t know your own strength, huh?”

“Serves him right,” the other muttered, his gaze locked on Victor with unsettling intensity. Victor felt panic clawing at his chest. These men didn’t look like they were interested in giving him answers. Instead, they looked like they were waiting for something.

Desperately, he weighed his options. If he ran now, maybe he could slip into the dark forest unseen. With his heart in his throat, he bolted toward the tree line. But the moment he took his third step, a bullet whizzed past his face, splintering a tree trunk just inches away.

The sound, muffled by a silencer, made his heart drop. He collapsed onto the ground, paralyzed by fear as he glanced back at the men, who hadn’t even risen from their seats.

One of them chuckled. “What’s the rush?” He stood, along with the others, who moved forward like predators closing in on their prey.

“Who are you people?!” Victor shouted, his voice trembling as he backed away. “What do you want from me?”

“Questions, questions,” one of the men mocked as two of them grabbed him roughly by the arms, hauling him back toward the tent. Victor struggled, but it was useless.

Within moments, fists rained down on him, every blow intensifying the pain wracking his body. By the time they were finished, he was slumped on the floor, barely able to hold himself upright, his face swollen and his entire body aching.

One of the men set a folding chair in front of him, and another sat down, looking him over like he was assessing damaged goods. “Tell us, what kind of arrangement do you have with Stella Swift? What’s her game?”

Victor’s lips parted, but his pride flared up despite the pain. “Go to hell,” he spat, his voice barely a whisper.

The men exchanged glances, then erupted into laughter. Before he knew what was happening, two of them lifted him up, and another landed a brutal punch to his stomach, forcing a strangled scream from his lips. He gasped for air as he was dumped back on the ground, the pain like fire tearing through him.

The man in the chair leaned in, calm but with a deadly gaze. “I’ll ask again—what’s your arrangement with Stella?”

Victor’s laboured breathing slowed as he tried to gather enough air to speak. His voice came out as a rasp, his will to resist slipping. “She… she wants information on the man who saved her stepdaughter, Aurora, during her daughter’s engagement party. She asked me to report everything I learn about Aurora… and to keep sending her bouquets on Wednesdays.”

“Good,” the man nodded, barely acknowledging the broken tone of Victor’s confession. He gestured to one of the others, who handed him a tablet. He clicked through it, then held it up to Victor’s face. “Are you aware that Stella plotted your ‘accident’? She wanted you dead, plain and simple. Here’s the proof.”

The men hauled Victor upright, propping him up so he could look at the screen. His vision blurred, but he saw enough to recognize the details—the emails, the payments, all pointing back to Stella. His face twisted, a flood of disbelief and anger lighting up his bruised eyes. So, she’d tried to get rid of him all along, and still had the guts to use him for her schemes?

The man snatched the tablet away, reaching into his pocket to pull out Victor’s phone. He dialled a number, let it ring, then hung up and tossed it into Victor’s lap. “You’re working for us now,” he said with a chilling smile. “You’ll answer on the first ring, and you’ll share every piece of information you get from Stella, down to the smallest detail. Otherwise, you know what’ll happen. The consequences of disobedience or betrayal will be too dire.”

Victor nodded numbly, the rims of his eyes red with unshed tears, and his voice came out as a strangled whisper. “I… understand.”

His mind swam with both physical and emotional agony. A dark bitterness twisted inside him—he, the powerful, envied socialite of Wing City, was now nothing more than a pawn, forced to spy on another and trade information. How had it come to this?

The man questioning him rose, folding his chair back up as he gave his comrades a nod. “Patch up our new friend’s injuries, feed him, and drive him back to his villa in the woods. He will need a few days to recover.”

Victor’s gaze hardened as the realization set in. His villa hadn’t burned down after all. The call he had received, the panic that had led him here—nothing but a trap to pull him into this nightmare he would never forget.

—

After the cake-cutting ceremony, Casey wove through the crowd until she spotted Aurora standing off to the side, her expression unreadable amidst the celebration.

Seizing her chance, Casey approached, flashing a practised smile. “Aurora,” she greeted smoothly, voice low. “Have you given any thought to our deal? I’m only asking a small price.”

Aurora raised a cool eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“$100,000, and I’ll send you the video,” Casey replied, her voice shifting with urgency. “I can’t stay in Wing City; Olivia’s made sure of that. I need to leave.” She took Aurora’s silence as interest and reached into her purse.

Her fingers fumbled, digging deeper into the bag. Seconds passed, and then her expression shifted to frantic disbelief as she rummaged through every corner.

Her heart sank as reality set in—her phone, her only leverage, was gone. And as for how it disappeared from her bag, she would never be able to tell.