Chapter 6

Michael's icy warning echoed in Jessica's ears as she returned to the villa that night, her mind in turmoil.

She locked herself in the guest room, replaying every moment from the gala—especially the way Michael had held her waist, his grip commanding and absolute.

This man was dangerous.

His world, his mission—all of it was far too dangerous for someone like her, just a probationary officer.

The next morning, her phone buzzed. A message from Sarah, with a photo downloaded from the department's internal forum.

In the image, Michael was leaning close to whisper in her ear, the pose intimate. Under the brilliant lighting, there was an undeniable air of... something more.

Sarah's call came through immediately, her voice laced with jealousy. "Jessica, now that you're attending galas with the Chief, I suppose you've forgotten all about me?"

Jessica's stomach dropped. "Sarah, it's not like that—"

"I don't care," Sarah cut her off, her tone suddenly righteous. "You promised me. That rotating restaurant, the most expensive set menu. You're the Chief's right hand now—you're not backing out, are you?"

Unable to explain the classified nature of her assignment, Jessica forced herself to agree. "Fine. Tonight."

Only then did Sarah let it drop.

That evening, as the city lights glittered below, the rotating restaurant slowly turned. Sarah ordered the priciest prix fixe menu without hesitation, her eyes gleaming with excitement as each artfully plated dish arrived.

"Jessica, be honest with me." Sarah sliced into her foie gras with studied casualness. "You and Chief Sullivan—how far have things gone? Everyone on the forum's saying you're the only woman he's let near him since he took office."

"I've told you, it's for the assignment. We're pretending." Jessica set down her cutlery, exhausted. "It'll be over soon."

"Pretending?" Sarah scoffed, leaning forward and lowering her voice. "Even if it's fake, it's still the opportunity of a lifetime. A man like Chief Sullivan—gorgeous, loaded, powerful—what woman wouldn't jump at the chance? You'd better seize it."

Jessica frowned. "Sarah, he's my superior. I haven't thought about any of that."

"Just because you haven't doesn't mean others won't." Sarah swirled her wine glass, her gaze turning pointed. "But let me give you some advice—don't fall too hard. Men in his position? Their private lives are way more complicated than we think."

Jessica's heart lurched. She looked up sharply.

Seeing she'd struck a nerve, Sarah pressed on. "I've heard things. Sure, he looks all cold and untouchable, but apparently he's quite the player behind closed doors. Never short on women—he just keeps it under wraps. Come on, with all that money and power, you really think he's as chaste as the rumors claim?"

She paused, her expression shifting to something resembling pity. "You're just a probationer from a modest background. You can't compete in his league. What if you're just a novelty to him? Once he gets bored, he'll toss you aside. Then what?"

Sarah's words pierced Jessica's deepest insecurities like needles.

Seeing her pale expression, Sarah twisted the knife further. "Besides, he already came to me privately. Gave me a necklace and a check. Looks like that's his standard operating procedure."

She conveniently omitted that Michael had given her those things because he'd mistaken her for the woman from that night. Instead, she painted him as a playboy—a man who shirked responsibility.

It suddenly made sense to Jessica why Michael hadn't pursued her afterward. In his eyes, that night was probably nothing—just a drug-induced accident, a problem money could fix.

And around him, there were likely countless women like her—or like Sarah—easily replaceable.

A chill spread from her feet upward, flooding her limbs. Jessica's fingers went white around her wine glass.

Sarah caught every flicker of emotion, a barely perceptible smile tugging at her lips.

She knew her words had hit their mark.

The more Jessica feared Michael, the better for her.

"Just... be careful, okay?" Sarah patted her hand with false concern. "I'm only telling you this because we're friends."

Jessica forced a smile and nodded, though her emotions churned inside.

She made a silent vow: until this assignment ended, she'd keep absolute distance from Michael. No entanglements beyond work. None.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur—Jessica barely tasted anything.

After they parted ways, Sarah climbed into a taxi, the mask of worry and concern vanishing instantly. Her face lit up with barely suppressed excitement and greed.

She pulled out her phone, opening the webpage she'd secretly searched earlier.

"The Sullivan Group... Vesperia State's wealthiest family... heir, Michael."

So he wasn't just the new Chief of Police—he was the heir to one of Vesperia State's most elite dynasties.

That check, large enough to buy an apartment outright, was probably pocket change to him.

Sarah's fingers traced over Michael's photo on the screen, her eyes burning with ambition.

Jessica, that fool, actually believed it was "just an assignment."

With a man this prime right beside her, all she wanted was to distance herself.

Well, if you don't want him, don't blame me for taking him.

Sarah clutched her phone tightly, as if gripping a golden ticket into high society.

This misunderstanding born from a diamond necklace—she wouldn't just let it stand. She'd turn it into the most solid stepping stone toward wealth and power.

Jessica returned to Michael's villa carrying a storm of conflicting emotions.

The cold, cavernous living room sent a chill through her from the ground up.

Sarah's words circled her mind like a curse. Complicated private life. Toss you aside once he's bored.