Chapter 23: HE’D BE RUINED

A sudden surge of golden light flickered in the corner of my vision. I leveled up. Fuck yeah. But I couldn’t direct my focus to the stat allocation right now. I had to stay locked in character, playing the empathetic, perfect neighbor to support her through these "problematic" times.

Wow... I did this. The same guy who used to be a complete pushover, who couldn’t say no to anybody. The same guy who was used to getting trampled on day after day. The same fucking guy who supposedly couldn’t hurt a fly. Looking down at her weeping in my arms, I felt absolutely alive.

"What happened?" I murmured, wrapping my arms around her waist to hold her up. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, god... Chance... fuck... Chance..." she sobbed against my chest, her chest heaving. "It’s all my fault... all my..."

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TARGET: Sarah Angi

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[ RELATIONSHIP ]

> Partner: [Hubert]

> Loyalty: 25% [Shaken]

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[ SYSTEM SYNC ]

> Favor: 100% [!]

> Threat: None

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> GRIEVANCE LOG

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"Just..." I muttered, gently pulling her back by her shoulders and bending my knees a little, trying to look at the tear-stained face she was desperately trying to hide. "Look at me, Sarah. Tell me what happened."

"Chance... it was... god... why did I draw those? Why did I keep them?"

"Draw... you mean..." I lied effortlessly, blinking as if processing the information for the first time. "Oh... the sketchbook? Did he find that? Come on, those were just normal character drawings. Nothing that should ever warrant a reaction like that from him."

"The other ones..." she stammered, her voice incredibly shaky, her hands clutching at my shirt. "Th-the other pages... I didn’t show... you. They were... much more explicit."

"Other drawings?" I asked, tilting my head with the perfect mask of innocent curiosity. "Look, come on, let’s step inside the apartment first. You’re standing in the draft and you’re going to catch a cold."

She nodded weakly, completely compliant. "Mm..."

As she turned to lead the way into the living room, my eyes locked onto her appearance. In her emotional distress, she was completely defenseless, dressed in lounge clothes that left very little to the imagination. She was wearing an oversized, thin white tank top that hung loosely from her shoulders, completely devoid of a bra underneath. The fabric clung to her skin where her tears had fallen, making it partially translucent, and her nipples were pressed hard against the material from the ambient chill. Below, she wore an incredibly short pair of gray sweat-shorts that hugged her hips tightly.

Following her inside, I caught a clear glimpse of the thin lace edge of her pink panties peeking out from the ride-up of her shorts. Fuck. I wanted nothing more than to just slide them down right there and take her on the spot. But no... no, no, no. I was way too close to a total victory to ruin it by rushing now.

I shut the heavy door behind me, letting the lock click, and exhaled.

"Tell me exactly what happened," I said, stretching out a hand to grab hers gently, guiding her over to the plush living room couch.

She collapsed onto the cushions, pulling her knees up to her chest, looking completely small and shattered. "Hubert came in... and he went straight to the lower nightstand drawer to look for something. He found the false bottom. I don’t even know how, it’s been hidden there for years. He pulled out the entire private ledger..."

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she recounted the blowout.

"He s-started screaming at me, Chance. He called me a degenerate. He told me it was disgusting cartoon porn and that if anyone from his firm ever found out what his wife spent her time doing, he’d be ruined."

"He said that?" I asked, inserting the perfect amount of quiet indignation into my voice, prompting her to keep pouring her heart out.

"Yes! He wouldn’t even let me explain," she cried, looking up at me with red, swollen eyes. "He slammed it down on the desk, told me he couldn’t stand to look at me right now, and just stormed out. He said I need to burn it before he gets back. I’ve never seen him look at me with so much... hatred."

As she babbled on, recounting every single line of Hubert’s verbal tirade, I nodded along slowly, making all the right sympathetic noises. "Wow, that’s awful," and "How could he say that to you?" drifted out of my mouth automatically.

But truth be told? I wasn’t listening to a single word she was saying. I already knew the entire story because I was the one who engineered it. Instead, my gaze drifted entirely unchecked across her body. From this angle on the couch, her loose tank top fell away from her chest entirely, offering a spectacular view of her heavy, bare breasts swaying with every ragged breath she took. When she shifted her weight, the tight hem of her sweat-shorts pulled even higher, exposing the soft curve of her thighs and the unmistakable contrast of her pink underwear.

She was completely vulnerable, entirely relying on me for comfort, while her husband’s marriage was burning to the ground right down the hall.

"And he... oh, god..."

Suddenly, Sarah pushed herself off the couch. She walked quickly into the kitchen, her head down, and collapsed to her knees right in front of the oven. Burying her face in her hands, she let out another wave of choked-up sobs.