0001 - Proving Her Loyalty (1)

Marcus paced back and forth across the living room, his jaw clenched and fists tightening with every step. Heather stood by the window, her eyes filled with tears and frustration. The silence between them was thick, nearly suffocating.

"How could you, Heather?" Marcus finally broke the silence, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. "How could you do this to me?"

"Marcus, please, you have to listen to me," Heather pleaded, her voice cracking. "I didn't cheat on you. I never would. That picture—"

"Don't even start with that!" Marcus interrupted, his eyes flashing. "You think I'm stupid? I saw the picture. You were hugging him, Heather. My best friend!"

Heather took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I know how it looks, but it's not what you think. I swear, I don't know how that picture got out there. Yes, we hugged, but it wasn't like that. He was comforting me because I was upset about something else entirely."

"Comforting you? Really? That's the best you've got?" Marcus scoffed. "And what exactly were you so upset about that you had to run to him instead of talking to me?"

"It was a misunderstanding at work, something really stressful. I didn't want to bother you with it because I knew how busy you've been," Heather explained, her voice trembling with emotion. "I went to talk to him because he's been through something similar. That's all it was, Marcus. A hug between friends."

Marcus stopped pacing and stared at her, his expression softening just a fraction. "And you expect me to believe that? You should have come to me, Heather. Not him."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I should have come to you," Heather admitted, tears streaming down her face. "But nothing happened. I love you, Marcus. I would never betray you like that."

Marcus shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "It's not just the picture, Heather. It's the trust. How can I trust you after this?"

Heather stepped closer, her eyes pleading. "Please, Marcus, don't let one picture ruin everything we have. Talk to him, ask him. He'll tell you the same thing. It was innocent."

He sighed deeply, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to sadness. "I don't know if I can, Heather. This hurts too much."

"I understand, but please, give me a chance to prove that it was nothing. Let's talk this through, together," Heather begged, reaching out to touch his arm.

"Alright, Heather. You want to prove your loyalty? I've got a way for you to do that."

Heather wiped her tears, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Marcus walked over to the coffee table and picked up a folder, his expression unreadable.

"My boss, Eamon Rodge, has a deal that needs closing. He's been impossible to reach lately, and this deal is crucial for my career. If you can get him to sign this contract, I'll forget about the scandal and marry you immediately."

Heather's mouth dropped open in shock. "Marcus, you can't be serious. You're asking me to go to his house and get his signature? How am I supposed to do that?"

"You said you'd do anything to prove your loyalty," Marcus replied coldly, thrusting the folder into her hands. "Here's your chance."

Heather looked down at the folder, her hands trembling. "But I don't even know where he lives."

Marcus pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. "Here's the address. It's his private residence. You've got until tomorrow night. If you can get his signature, I'll believe you and we'll move past this. If not…"

Heather's eyes filled with a mixture of determination and desperation. "If not?"

"If not, we're done," Marcus said flatly. "I need to know I can trust you, Heather. This is the only way I can think of."

She took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Alright, Marcus. I'll do it. I'll get his signature."

Marcus nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Good. I'll be waiting."

Without another word, Heather grabbed her coat and the folder, heading out the door. As she drove to the address Marcus had given her, her mind raced.

She had never met Eamon Rodge before, in fact she had just arrived in the city a month ago, and the idea of showing up at his house unannounced was nerve-wracking. But she loved Marcus, and she was determined to do whatever it took to prove herself.

As Heather's car disappeared down the street, Marcus closed the door and let out a deep breath. His expression shifted from the strained mask of concern he had worn in front of Heather to a twisted smirk.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number labeled "Sherry."

The phone rang twice before a woman's voice answered, "Hey, Marcus. What's up?"

Marcus's smirk widened. "Sherry, come over. My fiancée's out of the house, and we can finally have some fun."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Marcus, are you sure? What about Heather?"

Marcus laughed, a cruel edge to his voice. "Don't worry about Heather. I got rid of her. I sent her to the devil himself, Eamon Rodge."

"Eamon Rodge? Isn't he….?" Sherry asked, sounding confused.

"Yeah, and he's a blind, reclusive old man who doesn't welcome visitors, let alone someone like Heather," Marcus explained, his tone dripping with malice. "She won't come back alive, and even if she does, it'll take her more than 24 hours to get anything out of him."

Sherry hesitated. "Marcus, that sounds risky. What if she does come back?"

Marcus scoffed. "She won't. Even if she miraculously survives, she won't get his signature. Eamon's practically a ghost. Plus, he's rumored to be... difficult, to say the least. Heather's as good as gone."

He paused, then added with a sneer, "Honestly, she was becoming a burden. Always so emotional and clingy. Bad mouthing her was the least of my problems."

Sherry's tone shifted, a hint of excitement creeping in. "Alright, I'll be there soon."

"Good," Marcus replied, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "I'll see you soon."

He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the couch, his thoughts already turning to the evening ahead.

For the first time in a while, he felt a twisted sense of freedom. With Heather out of the picture, at least temporarily, he could enjoy himself without her constant presence.

As he waited for Sherry, he poured himself a drink and settled into the couch, his mind replaying the look on Heather's face as she left. He felt no remorse, only a cold satisfaction that his plan was in motion.

Heather was gone, and he could finally live the way he wanted, if only for a night.