Part 2My Fake Baby For The Tyrant

My head was pounding when I drifted back to consciousness.

The man was standing by the window, his back to me as he pulled on his tactical shirt. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and a back marked with the red scratches I’d left there during the night.

There was no way in hell this was a sixty-year-old man.

My eyes drifted to the floor, where a combat blade lay discarded. The blood on the edge hadn't fully dried; dark droplets were still seeping into my cream-colored rug with a rhythmic plink, plink, plink.

The hangover vanished instantly, replaced by cold, paralyzing terror.

I looked up just as he turned around.

It was a face I recognized from the "Avoid at All Costs" briefings: Roman Blackwood. The "Butcher" of the corporate underworld, the mercenary kingpin who had been rumored to be planning a takeover for months.

I hadn't slept with the King. I had slept with the man who had just decapitated the kingdom.

I scrambled off the bed, not even stopping to find a robe, and dropped to my knees, trembling so hard my teeth chattered.

"You're awake," he said. His voice was sandpaper and velvet, a terrifyingly magnetic sound.

He didn't kill me immediately. Instead, he took his time tightening his belt, his eyes tracing the line of my bare shoulder with a look that was half-amused, half-starved.

"You were quite... enthusiastic last night, Sadie."

This was it. The moment I died.

My mind raced. If I admitted I mistook him for the old man, I was calling him a substitute. Dead. If I said I intended to sleep with him, I was a traitor and a whore. Dead.

If I was going to die anyway, I might as well play the most dangerous hand in the deck.

I took a sharp breath, looked up, and let the tears flow on command. I channeled every ounce of "doomed heroine" energy I had.

"Roman! I... I've waited so long for this night!"

His hand paused on his belt. He arched a dark eyebrow. "Oh?"

I had to commit. I had to believe my own lie so hard it became his reality.

"You have no idea. I’ve watched you from the sidelines for years. Marrying Harrison... it was a prison sentence. I was a captive in this house, but my heart? My heart has always belonged to you. I’ve been praying for the day you’d finally come and burn this place down."

He walked toward me, each step echoing like a heartbeat. He used the bloody tip of his scabbard to tilt my chin up.

"You've been pining for me?" He let out a cold, cynical whistle. "Then why did you keep calling out for 'the Master' last night?"

My heart skipped. Shit. I had used the formal title I usually used for Harrison.

But I, Sadie Moore, have a face made of brass.

"Because to me, you are the Master!" I cried, leaning into the blade. "In my heart, you’ve always been the one in charge. Harrison was just a ghost I had to endure until you arrived!"

It was treasonous, but to a man who had just successfully staged a coup, it was exactly the kind of ego-stroke he needed.

The murderous glint in Roman’s eyes softened—not into kindness, but into a dark, intrigued curiosity.

"Pretty words," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "But you're a hell of an actress, Sadie. You should be in Hollywood, not a billionaire's bedroom."

"It's not an act!" I reached under the pillow and pulled out a small, silk handkerchief I’d been embroidering. It was supposed to be a floral pattern, but my needlework was so atrocious that the 'M' for Montgomery looked more like a jagged 'B'.

I held it up with trembling hands. "Look! I made this for you! 'B' for Blackwood! I’ve been keeping it hidden for months, waiting for the right moment!"

Roman took the scrap of silk, staring at the messy, distorted letter.

"This is a 'B'?"

"It’s... it’s abstract!" I insisted. "It represents my chaotic, wild devotion to you!"

Roman was silent. He had likely never encountered a woman this shameless in his entire life.

Finally, he let out a low, jagged laugh. It was a terrifying sound, but it wasn't the sound of a man about to kill me.

"Since you're so devoted to me..."

He tossed the handkerchief back onto the bed and turned toward the door.

"Put some clothes on. You're coming with me to watch the board members surrender."

I collapsed onto the floor the moment he turned his back, my skin drenched in cold sweat.

I was alive. But the road ahead was going to be a hell of a lot harder than dying.