Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 113

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Chapter 113 That Was Insane

It wasn't that Beatrice didn't feel anything for him.

She just knew how this story ended—and it wasn't with "happily ever after." So she refused to even open the book.

Most people in horror movies at least try to fight for survival.

But Beatrice?

She treated love like an incoming meteor—no point running when the impact would vaporize you anyway.

Not that she was passive by nature...

"I'm grabbing us some drinks," Violet muttered, feeling restless and not knowing what else to say. She hurried off into the kitchen.

Beatrice sank into the couch cushions.

A faint sound at the door made her freeze.

Footsteps?

She held her breath.

Silence.

Just my stupid nerves.

She thought, rubbing her temples.

Violet returned, thrusting an icy beer into her hands. "Screw Damian and his dating circus. You're a whole damn masterpiece solo."

Beatrice accepted the beer and took a sip, fingers tracing idly over the condensation on the bottle.

"He's... objectively great. Kind. Decent.

"But with that family name? Marriage is never his choice to make."

"You weren't nearly this reasonable when you were dating Desmond," Violet said.

She then immediately realized she'd accidentally brought up a sore subject and quickly changed the topic. "Anyway, didn't you once swear to me Damian was gay?"

"Maybe... maybe there was a little misunderstanding," Beatrice said awkwardly and then added hesitantly, "Or maybe... maybe he's bi."

Anyway, she refused to believe she had enough charm to turn a guy straight.

Violet stared at her blankly, beer paused mid-air, her expression complicated.

For a few seconds, they just looked at each other.

Then Violet abruptly swatted her arm. "Bisexual my ass! Damian's entire brand is 'tragically straight and untouchable'! Don't corrupt my delusions!"

Beatrice ducked another swing, laughing. "Okay, okay! He's your fictional straight!"

Their laughter faded into the cushions, beer bottles glinting in the low light.

A comfortable silence settled—until Violet bolted upright. "Oh shit, the recording! You won't believe how wild this is!"

Beatrice gave her a wary look. "If it's another one of your 'funny' bathroom recordings, I swear to god..."

Violet rolled her eyes dramatically. "Please. I have standards."

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping. "But speaking of disturbing... Desmond was acting so strange earlier. Madeline tried to cozy up to him, and you should've seen how repulsed he looked.

"If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he was forced into sleeping with her before. Why is he suddenly so dramatic? He wasn't always like this."

Beatrice felt a strange pang in her heart as she tried to remember.

Before...

What was he like before?

But it was hazy now, like a memory from a past life—the bright, clean-cut, confident boy she once knew.

"Yeah, figures," Beatrice murmured. "Hang around a crazy person long enough, and some of it's bound to rub off on you."

Violet nodded. "You're right."

She pulled up the audio file she'd recorded in secret and hit play.

It was from earlier in the evening, after Madeline had dinner at Belmont Manor, when she and Autumn stepped out into the garden alone.

At first, only footsteps and silence.

Then Madeline's voice cut through—honeyed, with a whiny edge.

"Could you talk to Desmond for me?" Madeline's voice dripped faux distress. "He's been so cold... it's breaking my heart."

Autumn's reply was flat. "I don't control how he treats you. If you're unhappy, no one's forcing you to marry him."

Silence again.

Then Madeline's tone dropped, venom seeping in. "Sure you wanna cross me? Because if I'm unhappy, I might start talking. Like about that boy you've been hiding... William would love that little gossip.

"Especially since his little mistress overseas is dying to replace you. And her son—he's nineteen now, right? Perfect age to waltz back and claim his share. When that happens, you'll lose your position, and everything Desmond stands to inherit will have to be split in half with that bastard."

"You—"

Autumn's voice cracked. "You schemed to steal Desmond from Beatrice, and now you'd ruin him?"

"I'm not hurting him," Madeline crooned. "I love him. You're the one screwing him over. Say no to me, and it's on you."

Autumn seemed stunned into silence by Madeline's warped logic.

A long silence.

Then Autumn's voice sliced through, raw and shaking. "Remember who lied about your fake pregnancy, Madeline. One word out of line, and I'll drag you down myself—straight to Desmond."