Chapter 111/The Blacklist Trap

Chapter 111: 111/The Blacklist Trap

Chapter 111

Stephanie’s Point of View

The moment he uttered those toxic words, a cold, sickening shiver ran like an electric current through my entire body. My limbs locked completely in place, turning me into a statue of ice. I stared at him with widened eyes filled with deep apprehension and pure dread at the consequences of my reckless action. I spoke in a strained, faint voice, the words nearly dying inside my parched throat:

"What exactly do you mean by that, Mr. Vincetti?"

He tilted his head with an agonizing, provocative slowness, narrowing his dark pupils in a fox-like manner. He savored the paleness and total collapse written across my face with absolute malice and satisfaction. Then, he spoke in a rough, low, and cruel rumble:

"It is quite simple... I will not fire you from the company now and deprive myself of this pleasure. Instead, I will find my own way to ensure you pay a devastatingly high price for what you just did to my face."

I raised my head with a wounded pride, desperately trying to mask the blatant trembling of my body as I countered defiantly:

"If you think you can humiliate me, you are delusional. I will not remain for a single additional second inside this wretched company!"

A sharp, biting, and mocking smile etched across his thin lips, thoroughly ridiculing my fabricated bravery. Crossing his arms tightly over his broad chest and towering frame, he delivered a cold, absolute declaration:

"Really? Do you truly intend to quit your job and hand in your resignation so easily, Miss Miller?"

I drew a sharp, burning breath to force the heavy air from my chest, stating with unyielding stubbornness:

"Yes, I will do it right now, and no obstacle will prevent me from walking out."

He took a slow, calculated step toward me, completely obliterating the safe distance between us in a sinister manner. His dominant, harsh gaze washed over my face as he asked with biting sarcasm:

"And who on earth do you think will hire you or accept your employment once you walk out of my office, Miss Miller?"

I snapped my pale face away from him in burning agitation, feeding my remaining pride:

"There are hundreds of other design firms in this city that would welcome my qualifications!"

He scoffed, a rough, husky sound that sent a shiver down my spine. Locking his eyes into mine to pierce through my pupils with a terrifying, dangerous vow, he spoke with absolute detachment and cruelty:

"I will personally ensure, from this very moment, that your name is placed on the corporate blacklist. I will guarantee that no employer will ever dare to hire you or grant you a single opportunity for the rest of your professional life."

The warm blood froze solid in my veins at his blunt threat. I realized with absolute certainty from his harsh tone that the man standing before me was a complete despot—a tyrant who knew nothing of mercy or compassion. My jaw clenched with violent intensity, my rapid breathing betraying my raw terror:

"Are you openly threatening my future right inside your office, Mr. Vincetti?"

He raised his eyebrows with a dead, icy indifference that showcased the true depth of his influence and authority, stating simply:

"You have every right and freedom to consider what I just said as a threat, or however else you wish to classify it in your mind."

I suffocated under his psychological mind games and the immense pressure that was actively dismantling my stability. Pressing my palm against my chest, which was heaving in hysterical agitation, I yelled in a booming voice:

"What exactly do you want from me? Just state your conditions and let us be done with this!"

He pointed his luxurious pen toward the wooden desk, his voice rhythmic, stern, and as cutting as a sword:

"You will work here inside this company in two completely different capacities and roles exclusively for me."

I furrowed my eyebrows in genuine shock, entirely unable to comprehend his escalating madness. I asked in deep condemnation:

"Two roles? What on earth do you mean?"

He replied with an icy, provocative detachment:

"I will allow you to retain your position as a trainee fashion designer so you can learn. But in return, you will perform an additional, mandatory role: you will serve as my private secretary, fulfilling every single one of my demands without objection."

My eyes widened in chaotic shock at this degrading, repulsive assault on my dignity. I screamed in his face blindly, completely losing control over myself:

"What?! Have you completely lost your mind and sanity to demand such a thing from me?"

His stern features hardened into a terrifying mold, his eyes blazing with a dangerous, predatory warning. He spoke with a sharp edge that struck terror into my very gut:

"Watch every single word that leaves your mouth regarding your superior, Miss Miller."

I took a massive step backward, my entire frame shivering and burning with pure rage and resentment. I issued a flat, uncompromising refusal:

"I will never agree to such degradation and humiliation!"

He gestured with his broad palm toward the exit door with ultimate coldness and lethal detachment, his expression entirely unbothered as he demolished the final wall of my courage:

"You have every right to refuse, of course. Go ahead, walk through that door immediately, and say goodbye to your career and your prospects forever."

I stood frozen in the middle of the office, fenced in by terror, anxiety, and a fatal hesitation. In that exact moment, I stood before a critical, devastatingly difficult choice: either accept his abusive, humiliating terms to save my career, or lose my professional future and dreams forever because of my stubborn pride. In that critical split-second, the thought of crying out to Alexander flashed through my mind. Yes! That was the only remaining lifeline for my survival! Why should I stay here at the mercy of this tyrant, enduring his hell fire, when Alexander possessed the absolute power and influence to obliterate this arrogant monster and resolve every single complication with a single word?

I swallowed against the burning dryness consuming my throat, looking up at Mr. Vincetti with wide eyes that harbored a faint, hidden plea. I murmured quietly:

"Can you grant me just a few minutes of time to think about this offer?"

He glanced condescendingly down at his luxury wristwatch, stating dryly and strictly in brief terms:

"Ten minutes only. Not a single second more."

Turning around instantly, I bolted from his executive suite with frantic, scattered paces, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. I headed straight for my small desk, pulling my bag toward me with frantically trembling fingers. I fished out my mobile phone and frantically dialed Alexander’s number with desperate eagerness. The phone rang repeatedly, a continuous, echoing sound but it was entirely useless.

He did not answer at all! I redialed his number, thunderous drums beating violently inside my pale chest. Nothing. The line wouldn’t open!

"Damn you, Alexander... damn this wretched absence! When I truly need you and the paths close in on me, you never answer, leaving me to this hell!" I whispered with deep bitterness, hot tears of suppression welling in my eyes.

I remained standing in my tracks, my limbs turning as cold as ice, waiting with frantic anxiety for him to call back. But the screen remained dark; he didn’t call back at all. Finally, I surrendered to the bitter reality with a suffocating, exhausting lump in my throat that nearly choked the life out of me. Dragging my heavy feet, which could barely support my weight, I walked back toward the tyrant’s office in absolute, silent brokenness, Entering with humiliation written completely across my features.

He raised his head slowly, looking at me with his usual icy detachment. A biting sarcasm and a clear sense of malicious triumph saturated his tone as he asked:

"Well, Miss Miller? What is your final decision now that your thinking time has expired?"

I lowered my defeated gaze to the floor in pure shame and oppression, clenching my fists with such excessive force that it pained my bones. I spoke in a low, submissive voice entirely devoid of strength:

"I... I agree to your terms. I will work as your secretary."

A dominant, crystal-clear smirk of absolute triumph etched across his thin lips, showcasing his complete victory and his total crushing of my pride. He spoke with a provocative satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with malice:

"A very wise decision for your future. Now, move immediately and fetch my hot coffee."

I walked out of the hell of his office, my entire body shivering from the sheer weight of the burning rage and bitterness. Inside my mind, I cursed him with the vilest, most venomous insults to vent the fire consuming my thoughts. With tense, loud strides, I marched toward the coffee machine in the corridor, brewing him a cup as bitter as his wretched nature. Carrying it back with broken steps, I slammed it onto the surface of his desk without a single word or glance, instantly walking out to avoid looking at his repulsive face.

I returned to my desk, my nerves completely frayed. Pulling a large sheet of white paper toward me, I frantically began sketching and drafting a long dress, desperately trying to occupy my racing mind and distract my turbulent thoughts from the black disaster I had just walked into by my own choice.

After long, exhausting hours, the entire team of designers gathered together. We sat around the large conference table, thoroughly drained, to outline and discuss the details and concepts of the new collection. The wretched Vincetti sat majestically at the head of the table, radiating his dominant, commanding aura. His sharp, piercing gaze cut through me from time to time in a highly suspicious manner, triggering a wave of tension and visible shivering that I desperately tried to hide from my colleagues.

Once this long, grueling workday finally came to an end, I packed my bag with extreme physical exhaustion. I walked with heavy, fatigued paces toward the elevator, stepping inside completely alone. Suddenly, and without warning, my stomach turned with a violent, sickening force, and an overwhelming wave of nausea hit me. The early signs of my pregnancy, combined with the terrifying psychological and nervous stress I had endured all morning, were taking an agonizing, brutal toll on my body.

In that exact, vulnerable moment, right before the metal doors of the elevator could slide shut, a powerful, massive, and broad hand forcefully jammed the doors open. The doors slid back, and the wretched Vincetti stepped inside, his massive torso and towering frame instantly filling the narrow, confined space right beside me. He turned his head slowly toward me, locking his dark, hawk-like eyes into my pale face, stating with his usual cold detachment:

"Miss Miller... I wish to inquire: do you have a private vehicle that you drive to work?"

My stomach clenched with immediate apprehension and anxiety at his sudden question. I responded in a dry, expressionless tone:

"Yes, I have a car parked in the external courtyard."

Slipping his large hand quietly into his luxury trouser pocket, he delivered a provocative, cold statement that completely shattered whatever remained of my sanity:

"Excellently convenient for me. My private vehicle was taken to the service center due to a sudden breakdown. You will be tasked with driving me to my residence this evening."

My eyes widened in chaotic shock and absolute objection. Turning my entire body toward him, I spoke in a sharp, elevated voice:

"What?! Take a taxi, or use one of the company’s numerous executive vehicles available for managers and employees downstairs!"

His eyes narrowed with a terrifying, predatory harshness filled with absolute dominance. Taking a massive, heavy step toward me, he pinned me directly against the wall of the elevator, effectively trapping the breath inside my lungs. He spoke in a rough, absolute, and unyielding rumble:

"Miss Miller... remember very well what was established this morning: you are my private secretary, legally bound to execute my orders. It is your professional and administrative duty to drive me to my residence without empty arguments or objections."

I gripped the strap of my bag with pure malice and resentment, suffocating my burning rage and the tears of oppression welling in my eyes. I screamed at him in a hushed, choked voice:

"All of this injustice and control that you are forcing upon me is entirely illogical and completely inhumane!"

He bent his head, leaning his massive, imposing build dangerously close to my face in a bold, terrifying motion. His jaw hardened with a lethal, absolute vow that instantly silenced my tongue, his voice cutting like a razor-sharp knife against my skin:

"Add a single additional word of objection, Miss Miller... and you will find out for yourself, in a very practical manner, exactly what I am capable of doing to you and your future in this city."

I fell silent, forced and entirely compelled, hot tears threatening to spill and burn my eyelids because of his sheer tyranny. The wretched man, with all his arrogance and superiority, wanted to turn me into his private chauffeur to drive him to his house—while the cursed Alexander didn’t even bother to call me back or answer my continuous cries for help throughout the entire day to rescue me from this swamp!

We walked out of the corporate building with heavy, dragging steps. I marched toward my vehicle with tense, loud paces that struck the pavement. I climbed behind the steering wheel in pure fury, while he climbed inside with absolute coldness, his massive frame instantly occupying the adjacent passenger seat and filling the space. I started the engine with a violent twist, venting my suppressed rage into the machine. Turning my body toward him, I locked my eyes into the depths of his dark pupils, demanding with clear irritation and a visible yell:

"Where exactly is your residential address located so we can move?!"

He tilted his head with a mocking smirk, his features reflecting a sharp irony as he took in my burning rage and the flush of my face caused by his actions. He spoke in a provocative tone:

"It is glaringly obvious that you are highly annoyed and resentful of my company inside this vehicle, Miss Miller."

I gripped the steering wheel with both of my hands with such excessive, violent force that the bones of my fingers ached. I spoke with sharp, rigid finality:

"Yes, absolutely! I am highly annoyed, and I am entirely forced to do this because of your despicable, vile threats!"

He shifted his cold gaze forward, staring through the front windshield. With an absolute, cutting indifference to my emotions, he delivered his commanding decree:

"I do not care about your feelings or your annoyance in the slightest. Drive the vehicle, and remain silent."

I launched the car forward, maneuvering through the crowded streets with a mounting, chaotic tension that thoroughly shredded my nerves, especially after he had barked the address at me with curt, dry brevity. Suddenly, and without warning, the loud, booming ringtone of my phone shattered the dead silence of the car. I darted a frantic glance at the glowing screen it was Alexander calling at last!

My heart clenched with a wild rush of eagerness and intense hope. I was on the absolute verge of grabbing the phone to answer rapidly, cry out for his help, and expose the living hell I was currently trapped in.

But with a swift, mbaquat, and shocking motion of his massive, broad palm, his hand slashed across from my side with an unparalleled, blatant audacity snatching the phone violently right out from between my fingers and blocking me from answering!

I froze completely in my seat, a wave of profound shock and bewilderment paralyzing my veins. Then, I spun toward him completely in a blind, mad fury, screaming in his face with a deafening, explosive agitation as my entire body shook and convulsed with burning rage:

"What on earth do you think you are doing?! Give me my mobile phone right now, and do not interfere in my privacy with this blatant audacity!"

He pinned the phone tightly inside his broad palm, completely blocking me from reaching it with his massive, towering build. Locking his dark, unyielding, and merciless eyes directly into mine, he uttered a rough, cold, absolute, and condescending rumble that entirely paralyzed my movements and permanently silenced my tongue:

"No... you will not take it, and you will not answer any call while you are in my company inside this vehicle, Miss Miller."