Victor Hail had built his empire on suspicion. He was a man who trusted no one: not his lawyers, not his partners, not even his own blood relatives. To him, loyalty was an illusion—something people pretended at until temptation pried it away. And temptation, Victor believed, was best measured in stacks of cash.
That was why, on this gray afternoon, he found himself sprawled on the carpet of his luxury townhouse, his face painted with artificial bruises, his limbs stiff in a staged collapse. The open safe on the wall glared down at the room like a wicked eye, its mouth gaping wide with bricks of gold stacked neatly at the bottom and bundles of cash piled so high they threatened to spill.
A fortune laid bare.
Bait set for the test. And at the center of his cruel little experiment was Clara Johnson. She was barely twenty-five, dressed in the black-and-white uniform he insisted all staff wear—apron crisp, headband pinned perfectly against her dark hair. She had been working for him only a….Read Full Story Here..………
