My Harem Will Help Me Get My Revenge-Chapter 51: [ - - 47.2] - Cassey and Marcus

Chapter 47.2

"Just do it," Cassey snapped, her voice sharp like a knife, "Or do you want me to make the call right now?"

The staff boy froze, fear flashing across his face.

It hadn’t been his choice.

He hadn’t been talked into it.

He had been forced. Dragged into something he didn’t want.

**FLASHBACK**

The night before, after his shift ended, he had been walking toward the staff entrance, tired and sleepy. A black car rolled up beside him, slow and silent. Before he could even step back, two men jumped out, grabbed him roughly, and shoved a sack over his head.

He shouted. He struggled. But it was useless, and a hard punch to his stomach knocked all the air out of him, and he collapsed.

And when they yanked the bag off, he found himself tied to a chair inside a dark, cold room. The air smelled like dust and old smoke.

And sitting casually on a sofa across from him was a man he didn’t recognize. But Iris and Lucius would easily recognise him, it was Marcus Dorne.

Marcus leaned back with a smirk, holding a glass of wine in his hand like he had all the time in the world, "I need you to do something for me, Sir" Marcus asked nicely.

The staff boy looked around anxiously, his heart pounding so hard he thought he might faint, "Wh-who are you?" he stammered, voice trembling.

Marcus chuckled lightly, "Not important. What’s important... is that you do exactly what I tell you."

The staff boy tried to shake his head, "I- I don’t know— I can’t—" he began.

One of Marcus’s men stepped forward, cracking his knuckles menacingly, but Marcus lazily raised a hand to stop him.

"Easy. Let me handle this," Marcus said calmly, "Don’t scare the poor guy."

He picked up his phone and tapped a few times, pulling up a photo. Then he turned the screen towards the staff boy.

It was a picture of a young, beautiful woman and young boy.

The staff boy’s blood ran cold. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

"Beautiful family," Marcus said in a soft, almost kind voice, "It would be a shame if something... happened to them."

The staff boy shook violently, tears gathering in his eyes, "Please, please don’t hurt them," he begged, voice breaking, "I will do anything."

Marcus smiled darkly, "Good. Now listen carefully," he said.

He showed the staff boy another picture— this time, it was Cassey.

"Follow her orders. Do whatever she asks. No questions."

Marcus stood up slowly, picked up a black gun from the nearby table, and pressed the cold barrel lightly against the boy’s knee.

"If you fail..." Marcus whispered, smiling wider, "... I will make sure my men keep your wife company while your son watches."

The staff boy sobbed quietly, nodding frantically, too terrified to even speak anymore.

**FLASHBACK ENDS**

The staff boy, pale and shaking, stood at the door outside Iris’s room. He didn’t dare move until Cassey spoke.

"Good boy," Cassey said, giving him a mocking little pat on his shoulder, like he was some pet, "Now open it."

Without saying more, the staff boy slid the master keycard into the lock. A soft beep sounded, and the door clicked open.

Cassey smiled cruelly and stepped inside, her high heels tapping slowly on the marble floor. She glanced back at him, her eyes cold.

"Stay right here," she ordered, "Watch the hallway. If anything moves... You tell me immediately."

The staff boy just nodded stiffly, standing frozen in place, his heart pounding in his chest as Cassey disappeared into Iris’s room, her shadow long and dark against the light.

Cassey softly shut the door behind her and locked it with a sharp click.

"Fucking finally," she muttered under her breath.

She didn’t waste a second. Stormed straight to the drawers, yanking them open so hard they almost came off their tracks. Makeup, cheap perfume, boring-ass notebooks.

"Goddamn useless crap," Cassey snapped, shoving it all aside like trash.

She moved next to the cupboard, yanked it open. Some neatly stacked files sat there, looking all proper and boring. She grabbed them, flipped through page after page, her hands moving faster, rougher.

Nothing.

"Where the fuck do you keep it, princess?" she growled.

Frustration boiling over, she slammed her palm against the cupboard door. The smack was so hard one of her fake acrylic nails cracked clean off.

She stared at the broken nail for half a second, "Fucking perfect."

Breathing heavy, chest heaving, she spun around. Her eyes scanned the room like a hungry animal.

And then she saw it...

Half-buried under a pile of dumb papers, sitting all innocent on the table— the goddamn laptop.

A slow, wicked smile stretched across her face.

"That clever little rat," Cassey whispered, walking toward it like a hunter closing in on its prey, "She thought hiding it in the open would fool me."

She threw herself onto the sofa, legs crossed like a queen, flicked her hair back, and tapped her sharp nails against the laptop lid.

Tap, tap, tap.

Mocking the stupid girl who thought this would stay hidden.

She flipped the screen open. The login screen popped up.

Password. freeweɓnovel.cøm

Of course.

Cassey let out a sharp, mocking laugh, "Of course. You are not completely brain-dead after all."

She cracked her knuckles and leaned forward, fingers flying over the keyboard.

First try:

"1234."

Incorrect.

She rolled her eyes, "Obviously not that easy, stupid."

She tapped her nails against the laptop, thinking, "Maybe her birthday?" she mumbled.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, but then she pulled back with a disgusted grunt, "Pfft. Like I give a fuck when you were born."

Her brain spun faster now, meaner. Another idea popped up, ugly and bitter.

That day. Which was supposed to be Her day. When everything went to hell.

"My 11th birthday," she hissed through her teeth. She jabbed the numbers in— "07082009."

Wrong.

"FUCK!" she snarled, slamming her hands on the table so hard the laptop shook. For a second, she just sat there, panting like she was ready to burn the whole damn hotel down.

Then...

That old hag... Their Grandma.

The woman Iris worshipped like some Saint.

Cassey sneered so hard it hurt, "Let’s see if you are really that fucking predictable."

She punched in the numbers with brutal, angry fingers, "09071953."

Ding!

Laptop unlocked.

A wicked, ugly grin split across Cassey’s face, "Fucking knew it," she whispered, leaning back like a queen on her throne.

She got to work, fast fingers opening folders, digging through the laptop like a thief ransacking a jewelry box. She didn’t give a shit how messy it got. She was gonna find it, rip it out, and leave this place laughing.

And there it was. Hidden inside a Hidden folder. Everything that Iris had worked on all day long.

"Got you, you stupid bitch," she muttered, her grin stretching wider.

For a few seconds, she just sat there, soaking it in. Feeling like she owned not just the laptop, but Iris’s entire fucking life.

She quickly put in the pendrive and sent all the files to herself with quick, eager fingers.

Victory tasted so damn sweet.

And then without wasting a second, she deleted every single copy of the blueprint from Iris’s laptop. Every file. Every backup. She emptied the trash too, just to be sure.

Like she was never even there.

She closed the laptop carefully, setting it back down exactly how she had found it— papers scattered just right. No one would suspect a damn thing.

Standing up, Cassey ran her palms down her tight dress, smoothing it out with a little flourish. She caught her reflection in the mirror and gave herself a wicked smirk.

"Your worst days are about to fucking begin, dear sister," she whispered sweetly, as she pushed her boobs up.

She strutted to the door, heels clicking proudly— queen of the goddamn world. Just as she grabbed the handle, she froze.

She heard some voices outside.

She pressed her ear against the door, frowning. Peered through the tiny peephole.

There she saw tThe hotel manager, talking to the trembling staff boy.

"What are you doing here?" the manager demanded sharply.

The boy almost jumped out of his skin, "N-Nothing, sir!" he stuttered, voice shaking, "I thought I saw someone around... So I came to check!"

Cassey frowned as she heard them, but then the manager sighed.

"Alright. Go downstairs. Plenty of work waiting," The manager told the staff boy.

"Just give me a minute, Sir. I will just check around once," The staff boy told the manager.

"Make it quick," The manager nodded, and then turned around to leave, Soon. his footsteps faded down the hall.

Cassey let out a slow breath, smirking to herself. Lucky little shit.

She cracked the door open, just a sliver. The boy turned and looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Ma’am, please hurry," he whispered desperately, "I have to go..."

Cassey narrowed her eyes, face twisting into a cold sneer, "Don’t you dare rush me," she snapped under her breath.

Stepping out, she locked the door smoothly behind her like nothing had happened.

"You can fuck off now," she said, brushing past him without a second glance.

The boy fidgeted, wringing his hands like a kicked dog, "P... Please, madam... Let my wife and son go. They are the only thing I have in my life... I will lose everything..." he begged, voice cracking.

Cassey laughed— a low, cruel sound, "Aw, poor baby," she mocked, tilting her head with fake sympathy.

Then she leaned in just enough to make him flinch, "Life’s a bitch, sweetheart. Get used to it. Now bug off."

The boy turned and fled down the hall like his life depended on it.

Cassey watched him go with a smirk, then turned, hips swaying arrogantly as she made her way back to her room.

Every step of her room screamed I won.

Once inside, she slammed the door, kicked off her heels, and threw herself into the plush armchair like a goddamn queen.

Still riding the high, she grabbed her phone and punched in Marcus’s number. He picked up almost instantly.

"Hey, baby," Cassey purred, her voice dripping with smugness, "It’s done. Everything you wanted. And guess what? I even made that bitch look stupid while I was at it."

She leaned back, grinning lazily at the ceiling, drunk on victory.

"Now," she said, voice dropping low and greedy, "It’s your fucking turn to deliver."

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Author’s Note:

1. If you are having fun reading the story. Do support me by commenting, voting with Power Stones, Golden Tickets and sending Gifts if you feel like it.

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