Part 3Gambling My Destiny With My Baby

I pushed myself up from the table, grabbing the last blank agreement and slamming it back down.

"Zachary!" I screamed, my voice cracking, my eyes bloodshot. I gripped the edges of the paper until my knuckles turned white, playing the part of a manic, ruined gambler perfectly. "You're pushing me to the edge! Aren't you afraid of what I'll do to you when this is over?"

Zach laughed so hard he practically doubled over. He leaned in close to my ear, his breath hot and unpleasant. "What are you going to do to me, Dale? I’ve spent months preparing for this. I have your corporate seals. I have your lawyers. You are a queen without a kingdom. You can't touch me."

He stepped back, spreading his arms wide, looking every bit the cheap pretender trying to play king. "Face it, Dale. You were born to be stepped on by me."

Staring at his arrogant face, the trembling in my shoulders slowly stopped. I let a slow, cold smile creep onto my face.

"Fine," I said, my voice suddenly dropping its frantic pitch. "If we're playing for everything, let's raise the stakes."

I pointed a finger at his chest, my voice carrying down the quiet hallway. "If I win, you sign the surgical consent form immediately."

"And more than that..."

"Every single asset, stock, and penny belonging to you and the entire King family becomes mine. You leave this marriage with absolutely nothing."

The corridor fell dead silent for a full second.

Beatrice and Tammy froze, then burst into hysterical laughter.

Beatrice slapped her thigh. "Oh, this is rich! Is this bitch insane? She actually thinks she has a chance to turn this around?"

Tammy crossed her arms, sneering. "A three-time loser begging for a miracle. You want our family assets? Dream on, loser!"

Freda hid her smirk behind a manicured hand. "Dale, why make this harder on yourself? Just accept your fate."

Zach finished laughing and snapped his fingers. "Fine! I'll give you exactly what you want!" He shouted toward the elevators. "Mr. Davis! Get over here!"

A man in a sharp suit, carrying a leather briefcase, hurried out from behind the bodyguards.

Zach pointed at me, his voice booming. "Draft an ironclad contract! Put every single condition she just mentioned into it! I want to watch her sign her own death warrant!"

Mr. Davis opened his laptop immediately, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Within minutes, a portable printer spat out two copies of the ultimate high-stakes agreement.

It was stark, cruel, and legally binding.

Zach didn't even read it. He grabbed a pen, signed his name, and pressed his thumbprint onto the paper with aggressive satisfaction. "Your turn, Dale."

He threw the pen at me. His eyes were wide, bloodshot with greed, his face twisted in anticipation.

I picked up the pen.

My hand didn't shake.

Stroke by stroke, I signed my name.

The notary stamp fell with a heavy, definitive thud.

Suddenly, the frantic energy in the corridor shifted. My shoulders straightened. My spine went rigid. I looked up at Zach.

My gaze wasn't filled with hatred, or fear. It was the detached, clinical look of a medical examiner preparing to pull back a white sheet in a morgue.

Zach flinched under my gaze, his throat bobbing as his brow furrowed. "What... what are you looking at me like that for? Stop playing games!"

I ignored his outburst, carefully folding my copy of the notarized agreement and tucking it securely into my inner coat pocket.

The act was over. The fish had taken the bait.

"Cut the crap," I said, my voice cold and steady. "Let's roll."

Freda eagerly grabbed the leather cup, her eyes shining with manic excitement.