The Price of Power
The Riggs estate was a testament to grandeur, its sprawling structure perched on the edge of a pristine cliff overlooking the turquoise ocean. The mansion itself was a masterpiece of modern architecture, its glass walls reflecting the sunlight like a beacon of opulence. The living room, where Helen Vicker now sat, was no less impressive.
The ceiling stretched impossibly high, adorned with an intricate crystal chandelier that seemed to drip with diamonds. The walls were lined with priceless artwork, each piece meticulously chosen to showcase the family's wealth and refined taste. A grand piano sat in one corner, its sleek black surface polished to perfection, while floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the endless ocean waves crashing against the rocks below.
Helen sat on the edge of a velvet armchair, her posture perfect despite the tension radiating from her. She was dressed in a tailored navy suit, her hair pinned back into a flawless bun. Her sharp features betrayed no emotion, but her fingers, resting lightly on the armrest, twitched ever so slightly.
Across from her sat Robert and Miranda Riggs, the heads of the most powerful family in the country. Robert, with his salt-and-pepper hair and piercing gray eyes, exuded authority. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, a subtle reminder of his unrelenting perfectionism. Miranda, on the other hand, was a vision of elegance. Her blonde hair was swept into a sophisticated chignon, and her emerald-green dress shimmered faintly under the light. Her gaze was sharp, her green eyes assessing Helen with an air of quiet dominance.
Robert spoke first, his voice low and deliberate. "Helen, you've always been a woman of ambition. That's why we considered your family for this alliance in the first place. But this… situation has made us reconsider."
Helen's stomach churned, though she kept her face neutral. "I understand your concerns, Robert," she said evenly. "But I assure you, the matter is being handled."
Miranda tilted her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. It wasn't a kind smile—it was the kind that stripped away facades, leaving nothing but raw truth in its wake. "Handled, you say?" she asked, her tone dripping with polite skepticism. "Forgive me, Helen, but from where we stand, it seems quite the opposite. Gia's scandal has not only tarnished her reputation but also cast a shadow on ours by mere association."
Helen's jaw tightened, her composure faltering for the briefest moment. "Gia was manipulated into this situation," she said, her voice clipped. "The video was leaked by someone with a personal vendetta. It doesn't reflect who she is."
"And yet, the public believes otherwise," Robert interjected, his gray eyes narrowing. "Reputations, Helen, are not built on truth—they're built on perception. And right now, the perception of the Vicker name is... tainted."
Helen felt the weight of their words pressing down on her, each one like a dagger to her pride. "What do you propose?" she asked finally, her voice colder now.
Robert leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "We've decided to put the engagement between Zach and Gia on hold."
Helen's chest tightened. "On hold?"
"Indefinitely," Miranda clarified, her tone unwavering. "The Riggs family cannot risk its name being dragged through the mud. Zach's reputation is pristine, and we intend to keep it that way."
Helen's mind raced, but she kept her expression unreadable. "Surely, there's a way to salvage this," she said carefully.
Robert nodded slowly. "Perhaps. If you can clear Gia's name and restore your family's reputation, we might reconsider."
The words were a death sentence masked as a reprieve. Helen nodded, rising gracefully from her seat. "Thank you for your time," she said, her voice even despite the storm brewing inside her.
Later that evening, Helen sat in her private study, her fingers drumming against the polished mahogany desk. Gia and Sara were seated across from her, the tension in the room palpable.
"This is your fault," Sara said sharply, her gaze fixed on Gia.
Gia bristled, crossing her arms. "My fault? You think I wanted this to happen?"
"You acted recklessly," Sara snapped. "And now we're all paying the price."
"Enough," Helen said coldly, her voice slicing through their argument. Both women fell silent, their gazes turning to their mother.
"We have a bigger problem," Helen continued. "The Riggs family has made it clear that they won't proceed with the engagement unless we clear Gia's name. This scandal needs to be buried—permanently."
Gia straightened, her eyes narrowing. "I know who's behind it."
Helen's gaze sharpened. "Who?"
"Abigail," Gia said firmly. "She's the only one who had a reason to leak that video."
"Do you have proof?" Helen asked.
"No," Gia admitted. "But I know it's her. She's the only one we wronged."
Helen leaned back in her chair, her mind working quickly. "Proof or not, we can't take any chances. I'll handle it."
Sara frowned. "What are you going to do?"
Helen's lips curved into a cold smile. "Leave that to me."
---
The next morning, Abigail was heading to Halo's apartment to pick up some documents. The air was crisp, the sun casting a golden glow over the city streets as she drove with the windows slightly down.
Her phone buzzed in the passenger seat, and she glanced at the screen. It was Ed.
"Hey," she said, picking up the call.
"Good morning," Ed replied, his voice warm. "How are you feeling today?"
"I'm good," Abigail said, smiling faintly. "How about you?"
"I'm fine," Ed said. "Just wanted to check in. How's the meeting with the studio going?"
"I'm on my way to Halo's to grab some documents," she explained. "The meeting's later this afternoon."
"Sounds good," Ed said. "Let me know how it goes, okay?"
"I will," Abigail promised.
They ended the call, and Abigail's smile lingered as she focused back on the road.
But as she approached an intersection, a black SUV pulled out of a side street, moving slowly behind her. Abigail didn't think much of it at first, but as she made turn after turn, the vehicle stayed close.
Her heart began to race. It's probably nothing, she told herself. Just a coincidence.
But when the SUV suddenly sped up and cut her off, her pulse spiked. Abigail slammed on the brakes, her tires screeching against the pavement.
Before she could react, two masked men emerged from the vehicle, their movements quick and deliberate. One of them yanked her car door open, the other grabbing her arm.
"Let me go!" Abigail screamed, struggling against their grip.
Her shouts went unanswered as they dragged her toward the SUV, shoving her into the back seat. The door slammed shut, and the vehicle sped away, leaving nothing but the echo of her cries and the screech of tires on the asphalt.
The dark interior of the SUV was suffocating, the windows tinted so heavily that no light penetrated. Abigail's breaths came in quick, panicked bursts as she struggled to comprehend what had just happened.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice trembling.
The men remained silent, their faces obscured by black masks.
As the vehicle raced through the city, Abigail's fear began to give way to something else: anger.
If this is Helen's doing, she's just made the biggest mistake of her life.
---
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