Betrayed by Him Claimed By His Rival

Chapter 9

Samantha

I stared at the papers in front of me, my mind spinning in circles. *Was this really happening?*

"You… you’re serious?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. It felt as if saying the words too loudly might shatter this fragile thread of hope dangling before me.

Jack leaned back in his chair, the dim light casting shadows across his sharp features. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, one that never quite reached his eyes. "As a heart attack," he replied, his voice that smooth, low tone that always had an unsettling effect on me. "Sign the contract, and your brother’s out on bail. But from this moment forward, you’re working for me. Full-time."

*Full-time*. The words echoed in my mind, louder than the ticking of the clock in the room. I glanced down at the contract again, the black ink swimming in front of my eyes. How had my life spiraled into this? A personal assistant? I didn’t know the first thing about working in an office, let alone working for a man like Jack. I was barely holding myself together as it was.

"But I don’t know anything about being a personal assistant," I stammered, my voice shaky, tinged with desperation. "The only thing I’m good at is cooking. I don’t want to slow you down or mess anything up."

Jack didn’t respond immediately. He steepled his fingers, studying me, his sharp gaze making the silence feel heavier than before. His office—dark mahogany furniture, the faint scent of leather and expensive cologne, and the faint hum of the city beyond—felt stifling, like the walls were closing in around me. Just when I thought he might reconsider, he finally spoke.

"Samantha," he said, his voice firm, but not entirely without warmth, "you’re just making excuses. I know this isn’t your area of expertise, but you can learn. You’ll adapt. And I have a feeling you’re a fast learner." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking onto mine, as if daring me to contradict him. "You don’t have a choice, do you?"

I blinked, the sting of his words hitting me like cold water. It wasn’t just the truth behind them that hurt—it was the way he said it. Like he knew me, knew the depth of my desperation, and knew I wouldn’t refuse him. *Was this all just a game to him?*

"But, Mr. Smith, I—" I began, trying one last time to protest, though I knew it was futile. My voice was weak, barely a whisper of resistance.

Jack raised his hand, silencing me instantly. His eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and authority. "No buts, Samantha. Either sign this agreement now, or figure out how to get your brother out of jail on your own." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But we both know you’re running out of options. You need me."

His words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. I could feel the weight of my situation pressing down on me, squeezing my chest like a vice. He wasn’t wrong. I *did* need him. There was no way I could save my brother without Jack’s help. And Jack knew it.

With a defeated sigh, I reached for the pen. My fingers trembled as they hovered above the paper, the weight of my decision pressing down on me like a lead blanket. Every instinct screamed at me to stop, to walk away, to find another way. But my brother’s face flashed before my eyes—locked behind bars, alone, and afraid. I had no choice.

I pressed the pen to the paper, signing my name in shaky script. Each stroke felt like a chain locking into place around me, binding me to Jack.

"There," I muttered, sliding the contract back across the desk. "Happy now?"

Jack’s gaze flicked down to the papers. He examined my signature with an intensity that made me feel exposed, vulnerable. After a moment, he gave a curt nod. "Perfect. Everything is in order."

I let out a shaky breath, though there was no relief in it. The deed was done. I was now bound to him, officially his employee, and at his mercy. The realization sent a chill down my spine.

Before I could dwell on it, the shrill ring of Jack’s phone pierced the silence, pulling me from my thoughts. It startled me, my nerves already frayed from the confrontation. Jack glanced at the phone, his jaw tightening slightly before he answered, putting the call on speaker.

"Hey there, big bro! My fiancé just called to let me know that our pre-wedding pictures are ready at his office," a chirpy female voice sang through the speaker. "You know I’m out of the country shopping for the wedding with Mom, so can you kindly have someone pick them up for me? They’re for the invitations. Love you, bye! Kisses!"

I didn’t need to be a genius to figure out who it was—Clara Smith, Jack’s stepsister. I froze, feeling awkward, like I was eavesdropping on a private moment. Why had he left it on speaker? I had no idea, but the discomfort settled in my chest like a stone.

The call ended abruptly, and Jack’s hand dropped to his desk with a thud. His face hardened, a flash of irritation crossing his features before it disappeared, replaced with his usual cool composure. But when he turned his gaze to me, I saw something there—something that set off alarm bells in my head.

"You heard everything, Samantha," he said, his voice colder than before. "Get ready. You’re going to Louis' office to pick up the photos."

His words hit me like a freight train, each syllable crashing into me with brutal force. My body went rigid, my mind scrambling to process what I’d just heard. "What?" The word barely escaped my lips, but the panic was clear in my tone.

"You heard me." Jack’s expression didn’t waver, but his eyes softened, as if acknowledging the impossibility of what he was asking. "It’s business. Consider it part of your new job."

My heart pounded in my chest. *Louis*. The name alone was enough to send a wave of nausea through me. The thought of seeing him, of stepping foot in his office, of facing the man who’d betrayed me so completely—it was too much.

"I… I can’t," I stammered, my voice breaking. "Not him, send me to go feed the lions instead, I don't want to ever look at that bastard ever again."

Jack’s eyes darkened, but there was a flicker of something else there—sympathy? No. Jack wasn’t the type to sympathize. But whatever it was, it faded quickly, replaced by his usual commanding tone.

"You can, and you will, Samantha," he said, leaning back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. "You signed the contract. You work for me now. And this is part of the job. Do it and get back quickly, so we can go continue with discussing your brother’s bail situation."

His words were a slap to the face, a cruel reminder of the position I was in. I had no power here. I was trapped, bound by my own signature to a man who had me exactly where he wanted me.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. There was no way out. No escape. I was going to have to face Louis. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.