Chapter 9: I'll Show You What I Dare - My Nightclub Connects to Another Realm

Bonnie's POV

A few days later, I was in high spirits walking home from the shop.

Doomsday Nightclub had taken off like a rocket, and the profits were more than generous. On top of that, Nova's million dollars had landed in my account right on schedule. I was officially a millionaire — small-time, sure, but a millionaire nonetheless.

I was humming to myself, key already in hand, when I pushed open my front door — and a hand shot out from inside and cracked me hard across the face.

"Bonnie! You shameless, selfish woman!" Catherine shook out her hand, standing beside our mother Hannah with all the righteous fury of someone who'd rehearsed this entrance. "Mother! Tell her! She's sitting on a fortune and won't give a single cent to her own family!"

I pressed my palm to my stinging cheek and stared at her. "Catherine, what are you talking about? Why did you just slap me?"

"Don't play dumb!" She jabbed a finger in my face. "Your trust fund manager James already told me everything. You have a million dollars in that account. And you — you stingy little bitch — you haven't shared a dime with the people who raised you."

"How do you know about that?" The fog cleared fast. James had sold me out. He'd violated every confidentiality protocol that existed and handed my private financial details straight to Catherine.

I studied her face, and something clicked. James had practically tripped over himself praising Catherine's looks the last time I'd seen him.

I let out a short, contemptuous laugh. "You slept with him, didn't you? My dear little sister?"

Catherine's expression flickered with something she couldn't quite hide fast enough.

I pictured James — rounder than me, sweaty, perpetually out of breath — and shook my head with exaggerated sympathy. "Lucky you survived without being crushed. Tell me, did you have to dig around through all those rolls of fat to find his dick, or had it fully retracted by now?"

"Stop it!" Catherine shrieked, cutting me off. "Stop changing the subject! We're talking about one million dollars!"

My mother, Mrs. Hannah Davis, drew herself up with the particular stiffness of a woman who believed she was being very reasonable.

"Bonnie," she said, "I raised you to understand that family shares what it has. I am your mother. Catherine is your sister. What's yours belongs to us. You have more money than you need — why are you refusing to share it?"

I looked at her, and something in my chest buckled.

"Mom," I said quietly. "In all the years I've been working — how much of that money ever stayed with me? How much of it turned into designer handbags on your arm and private school tuition for Catherine?"

"We are not dredging up the past." Her voice went sharp. "You are still a member of the Davis family, Bonnie, and you have an obligation to contribute to this family."

I couldn't help the smile that pulled at my mouth. "And what exactly does that contribution look like, Mrs. Hannah Davis?"

She answered with the calm efficiency of someone announcing a budget meeting.

"I'm at retirement age. It's time I enjoyed my life. Catherine and Blake's wedding also needs to be financed. All of this requires money." She paused, as if doing the maths in her head. "You'll provide two hundred thousand for me to travel the world, and another four hundred thousand as my retirement fund."

"Blake's family is well-established in this city. Catherine's wedding cannot look cheap — that would reflect badly on all of us. We are not the kind of family that bleeds a man dry, so we won't make Blake foot the entire bill. You'll put in one hundred thousand for the wedding." Another pause. "The remaining three hundred thousand will go to Catherine as her dowry."

I stared at her. She had carved up my entire million dollars with the calm precision of someone dividing a pie — and in her meticulous accounting, there was not a single slice left for me. Just like there never had been.

Catherine tugged at Mom's arm and swayed against her like a child. "Mommy, three hundred thousand is not enough! Blake's family owns a cosmetics company. If my dowry is less than five hundred thousand, his mother will never respect me."

Mom reached up and stroked Catherine's long blonde hair with a tenderness she had never once aimed in my direction. "All right, all right. Five hundred thousand for you, sweetheart. We'll take the difference from my portion."

I drew in a slow breath and opened my mouth.

Then Blake walked in.

He looked at Catherine with an expression that was almost gentle. "Darling, even if you didn't have a single cent for a dowry, I promise no one in my family would think less of you. A dowry is meant to be your security — not a way to shut other people up."

Catherine grabbed his hand, eyes shimmering. "You're so good to me."

"Enough." Something in me snapped clean through. "If you want to perform your little love story, do it on your own dime. You are not touching my money."

I picked up my phone and called the trust office.

"This is Bonnie Davis. I want James terminated. Effective immediately. If that doesn't happen before I hang up, I will liquidate every cent in my account and move it to your biggest competitor."

The voice on the other end didn't hesitate. "Absolutely, Ms. Davis. James is being removed right now. Your account will be handled personally by our senior director going forward."

I ended the call and turned back to the three of them.

"Now," I said, "I suggest you all leave my apartment. Because if you don't, I can't promise I won't be pressing charges against Catherine for obtaining my private financial information without authorisation."

Catherine's face went the colour of chalk. "You — you wouldn't—"

I walked past them and opened the front door.

"Keep standing there and find out."

Mrs. Hannah Davis looked like she had more to say. Catherine, pale and rattled, grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the exit before she could get it out. Blake followed without a word.

I shut the door behind them. Hard.

I stood in the silence that followed, and there was no triumph in it. Just exhaustion, deep and bone-level. I needed to find a new place to live. Somewhere none of them knew about.

I sank onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling until my mind went blank.

Eventually, my phone buzzed. The group chat with Nova's nutritionist and PA — a reminder that it was time for my scheduled meal.

I followed the menu the nutritionist had sent, cooked everything exactly as instructed, ate, and then pulled up the workout video from my personal trainer and pushed through a full session until I was drenched in sweat.

Then I stepped on the scale.

After a full week of clean eating and daily exercise—

I had gained two pounds.

The number hit me like a wall. What was wrong with my body? How was it possible that I was working this hard and still going in the wrong direction?

Blake's POV

I walked out of Bonnie's building seething.

Catherine caught up and hooked her arm through mine, tilting her face up toward me, lips parted, voice soft. "Darling, about the thing with James — I really didn't—"

"Drop it." I pulled my arm free and stepped away from her. The revulsion I felt in that moment wasn't something I could talk myself out of. The image Bonnie had put in my head — Catherine on her hands and knees digging through that man's fat to find something worth sleeping with — turned my stomach.

My phone buzzed.

I glanced down. A message from a friend: Doomsday Nightclub was throwing a masquerade party tonight. And Queen Layla would be there, apparently — dressed to devastate — with a very public plan to select one lucky man from the crowd for some very close personal attention.

Every other thought evaporated.

"Something came up," I told Catherine. "I have to go."

My usual stylist's place. My friends already lounging around when I arrived.

"Blake." Ryan grinned and punched my shoulder. "This is your shot, man. You've been obsessing over her forever. Want to make a bet on whether she picks you tonight?"

The competitive part of my brain lit up immediately. I looked around at the group and said it loud enough for all of them to hear:

"Picking me is the bare minimum. Tonight I'm going to throw enough money at this to take her all the way home. I'll get that mask off her face — and have her screaming my name until sunrise."