CHAPTER 83: CHAPTER 83-THE TRAP

The room was dimly lit, a shadowy figure barely visible in the corner.

As Janet stepped further inside, blinding lights suddenly flared on, forcing her eyes to adjust—only then did she finally see who was standing before her.

"Elvira?"

Janet’s wide eyes scanned the room. There was no sign of Ternence. No trace of Philip either. Her heart sank.

It all clicked.

This was a setup.

She’d ignored Elvira’s calls, so the woman had used Ternence’s phone to lure her here.

"You tricked me?" Janet’s voice turned cold as she spun on her heel to leave.

But Elvira grabbed her arm before she could reach the door, her voice dripping with malice. "Leaving already? I haven’t even said what I came here to say."

Janet tried to shake her off. "What do you want? There’s nothing for us to talk about!"

Elvira’s grip tightened. Janet staggered slightly in her heels, almost falling from the force of the pull.

"Oh? Not even married to Elwin yet, and you already think you’re above me?" Elvira’s eyes narrowed, burning with jealousy as she stared at Janet’s flawless porcelain-like face. That face... was this what had bewitched Charles?

She hated to admit it, but it was the truth.

Janet was beautiful. Far more beautiful than her.

"You? A sister? You’re not even worthy of that title," Janet snapped. "Move. I’m leaving."

If she had known Elvira was behind the message, she wouldn’t have bothered coming at all.

But Elvira wasn’t finished. "Come on, as your sister—at least once in name—let me toast to your upcoming marriage. Drink this, and I’ll let you go. My blessing to you both."

She picked up a glass of red wine from the cabinet, holding it out with an eerie smile. The deep crimson liquid swirled in the glass like blood.

Janet’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing through them.

"What? Think I poisoned it?" Elvira scoffed. "Please. I’m not that stupid."

She was lying.

Of course she was lying.

But Janet didn’t want to waste another second in this room. Being near Elvira made her feel suffocated.

She took the glass.

With a sharp breath, she downed the sweet-tasting wine in one go and shoved past Elvira.

"Now get out of my—"

But Elvira didn’t move.

She smiled.

A twisted, triumphant smile.

Janet froze.

Something was wrong.

"You—" she stammered, the glass slipping from her fingers.

"You’re not leaving so easily now," Elvira said, and gave her a hard push.

Janet’s knees buckled.

Her body fell—into the arms of someone behind her.

Arms strong and warm. A clean scent of soap and skin.

She shivered.

Emerging from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, was Manfred.

He caught Janet effortlessly, then glanced at Elvira.

"You can go now."

Elvira smirked as she turned to leave. "Make sure you don’t waste time," she said, casting one last glance at the dazed, flushed woman in Manfred’s arms.

She pulled out her phone as the door shut behind her.

Janet’s heart pounded wildly.

She struggled, finally realizing what was happening. "Manfred... What are you doing?! What is this?!"

Her voice shook with disbelief.

She looked up and saw his bare chest, droplets of water still clinging to his skin.

He had just been in the shower.

This... was all premeditated.

"You tell me," Manfred said with a dark smile. "Alone in a room. Just the two of us. What do you think I want?"

He leaned closer, voice low and dangerous. "You went and got engaged to Charles without even asking me?"

"Do you know how furious that made me?"

"But don’t worry, sweetheart..."

He reached out and brushed her cheek, his voice a wicked purr.

"I’ll take very good care of you tonight."

"Janet... be mine."

Manfred’s voice was low, magnetic, dangerous.

Every word he spoke made Janet feel like her mouth was parched, her breathing uneven. She staggered back, step by step, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the massive Simmons bed behind her.

It was like there was a fire igniting in her veins—hot, consuming, unbearable.

"No... No, stay away!" she gasped, trying to back away, but her limbs were weak, powerless. She had walked straight into a trap—layer by layer, like a cage tightening around her.

And Manfred’s presence only made her burning body ache more intensely.

No. She couldn’t give in.

She was marrying Charles. In just two days. He had built a home for her, a life filled with love—and she couldn’t be the one to destroy it.

"Please... I’m begging you, don’t do this to me... Manfred, please..."

Her voice cracked as she tugged at her clothes, her body betraying her. Her vision blurred, her eyes locked on the devilishly handsome man before her. How could someone so beautiful... be so cruel?

"Shhh... Janet." Manfred crouched down, staring at the woman curled up on the bed, trembling and flushed. "I know what you need. Don’t fight it. I’ll cherish you... I promise."

He never thought it would come to this. Manfred, who had always despised women, had become the very thing he hated—a man willing to use such disgraceful means to claim the woman he desired.

"Charles... Charles, help me..." Janet whimpered.

Her voice was hoarse, her breath hot with need. Her long hair spilled over the sheets like a dark waterfall. Her robe had loosened in the struggle, revealing the thin slip beneath, clinging to her curves like silk to flame. Her chest rose and fell with each labored breath, and her long legs arched instinctively as if seeking relief.

Manfred’s restraint snapped.

And when he heard her call another man’s name—it drove him mad.

He grabbed her wrist, pulled her into his arms, and let himself fall back onto the soft bed, the full weight of his body pressing against hers.

"Get off me! I want Charles... Charles..." she sobbed, her body burning, but her mind still grasping at clarity.

Her resistance only made him more desperate. "You don’t know how tempting you are right now, Janet. Maybe it’s time Charles sees exactly what his woman looks like—under me."

His lips found hers, bruised and bitten from her own restraint. For a split second, guilt flickered in his chest.

But he couldn’t stop.

"Manfred... don’t make me hate you," she cried, turning her face away, trying to escape his kiss. The unfamiliar scent of him made her recoil, even as her body betrayed her over and over again.

"Hate me then," he growled. "Better hate than indifference."

At least if she hated him... she would never forget him.

As Janet bit her lip to keep from crying out, refusing to yield, Manfred’s cold lips left her mouth—and moved to the delicate curve of her neck.