Page 76 of High Reward

The menace in his voice has my blood boiling. “She stayed because you threatened her,” I counter, fists clenched so tight my nails dig into my palms. “Because you isolated her from everyone who cared about her.”

“Is that what she told you?” Phineas laughs. “You poor bastard. She’s playing you, just like she played me. It’s what she does. The helpless victim act is just foreplay for her.”

Owen mutters a warning, but it’s background noise now.

“She’ll get bored with you too,” Phineas continues. “Especially since you’ve dragged that mousy little sandwich girl into your bed. What’s her name? Grace? So desperate for attention, she’ll let anyone fuck her.”

The red haze descends before I can stop it. Two long strides and I’m on him, fist connecting with his jaw, chair tipping backward with the force. I catch it before it falls, keeping him upright, my face inches from his.

“Say her name again,” I growl. “I fucking dare you.”

Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. He spits, a pink glob landing on the concrete floor. “Which one? The frigid wife or the desperate whore?”

My fist connects again, harder this time. Something cracks, his nose, or my knuckle, I don’t care which. I grab his throat, squeezing just enough to restrict air without cutting it off completely.

“Listen carefully,” I say, voice deadly quiet. “If anything else happens to either of them, if they get so much as a paper cut, I will make you beg for death. I will take you apart piece by piece, and I will keep you alive through all of it. And if Liliana wants to, I’ll let her fucking watch as I drain the life out of you. Do you understand me?”

Phineas wheezes, eyes watering, but his bloody smile doesn’t fade. “Perfectly.”

Hands grip my shoulders, pulling me back. Owen’s voice cuts through the rage. “Victor. Enough.”

I release Phineas’s throat, stepping back. My knuckles throb, skin split, and bleeding.

“We’re done here,” Matteo says. “For now.”

Phineas coughs, sucking in air. “You should ask her about the scars on her inner thighs,” he calls after us. “The ones she gave herself. Ask her why she did it only after we fought. Ask her about the games she likes to play.”

I make a move to turn back, but Owen’s grip on my arm tightens. “Don’t. It’s what he wants.”

We walk toward the exit, Phineas’s voice following us. “You think you know her, Serrano? You don’t know shit. She’ll destroy you like she tried to destroy me. It’s what she does.”

The metal door clangs shut behind us, cutting off his words.

The security guards eye my bloodied hand but say nothing as we walk past. Owen hands me a handkerchief without comment.

“He’s lying,” I say, wrapping the cloth around my knuckles. “About Lili.”

Owen nods. “Of course he is. It’s what abusers do, twist the narrative, make their victims seem unstable.”

“He didn’t react to Harper’s name,” Matteo notes. “Not even a flicker of recognition.”

“No,” Owen agrees. “That might be genuine. Or he’s a better actor than we thought.”

I flex my injured hand, pain centering me. “The fact that he knew Grace’s name and that I’m sleeping with both women is unsettling. He’s playing games. Trying to get under our skin.”

“And succeeding,” Matteo says pointedly.

I don’t argue the point. He’s right. I lost control exactly as Phineas wanted.

“The main question remains,” Owen says as we reach the edge of the property. “If he’s not behind Harper’s overdose, who is? And what was he implying about someone setting him up? My baseline analytics say he was at least partially telling the truth there.”

“Misdirection,” I say. “He’s trying to turn us against each other.”

Matteo doesn’t look convinced. “Perhaps. Or there’s something bigger happening that we’re not seeing. Perhaps he’s not the head of the snake like we thought.”

We walk in silence toward the car, each lost in our own thoughts.

I lean against the hood of the car, unwrapping Owen’s handkerchief to examine my split knuckles. The skin is already swelling, blood seeping from the cracks where Phineas’s teeth cut into me. Worth it. Completely worth it. I flex my fingers, testing the damage. Nothing broken, just bruised. Unlike Phineas’s face.