Powerful People


“Synonymous with Corruption, Dominance, Control. The naïve want the power to change nations, the cynical want power for selfish gains. But I want it in the name of Revenge.”

Iris Adaline is dauntless.

When she is assigned to write her first story on Aiden Anderson, it ignites a flame in her that will only be extinguished after seeing every part of his empire collapse. She had the perfect plan. Gain his trust, expose his secrets, then see him fall.

Aiden Anderson liked control.

When he first laid his eyes on Iris Adaline, he knew exactly who she was. He knew her intentions, he knew her drive, and he knew the danger. But he couldn’t keep away. He was adamant on seeing her on her knees, begging for mercy, and begging for him.

Sparks fly when two determined forces collide in a battle of power, control, and desire.


8. The Stalker

Our twilight fantasy was abruptly cut short by the high rise morning sun. The place where Aiden embraced me yesterday was now empty, making the bed feel desolate. On the bedside, he left a note for me.

    I walk up to the glass, wondering what it must be like to wake up to this landscape every day, and be with a different lover every night. Bitterness came to my mouth when I realize what could have happened. I was close to being just another hopeless girl Aiden took advantage of. Dangerously close.

    The note scribbled: “Business calls, I will be back before 4:00. I left you two choices in the drawer. Take your pick. But you know which one I’d want you to wear...”

    Sure enough, the first option was just a lacy black lingerie one piece. I scoff at him, knowing he’d be all over me if I wore it. The second were a pair of jeans with a shirt that said “fries before guys”, just like the one he saw me wear at Vogue. I chose the latter knowing he’d be disappointed.


    After pillaging his kitchen for ramen and hot pockets, my stomach let out a rumble of satisfaction. There was a half-open laptop on the sofa and in morbid curiosity I stalk up to it, expecting to see finance reports and stock market monitors. Instead it opens up to his inbox. There was only one unread email, no doubt the rest have been deleted and encrypted.

    The email was titled “Subj. Adaline, Day 13.” from an unknown source. What fresh hell is this? Knowing that Aiden would see something strange if his inbox had been tampered with I swiftly create a digital copy of the email and set up cyberwall security.


    The email had a single link to a document, which opened up to hundreds of pictures of my life. Snapshots of when I was young, of my family, and when I was at college. The more I scrolled the more petrified I became. The last picture had to be taken just last week, it was of Jasmine and I in our apartment.

    What. The. Hell.

    Franticly, my shaking hands open the deleted emails on his software. Hundreds of messages were sent between Aiden and this unknown address. The most recent email had read: “Aiden, I suggest you take care of her. Look at the court documents, it’s confirmed.”

    My trembling mind opened the court documents attached. The ones from my father’s case fifteen years ago.

    There were only five pages in the verdict, five pages which destroyed a family. A wave of nausea came over me and my mind became hazed with anger. I sent the documents, the pictures, and everything else to my own email. The devil will pay for his sins.


    But nothing explained our distorted relationship. Regret and disappointment nipped at my brain, was it wrong that I hoped what happened at the gala was genuine? Had Aiden been manipulating me this entire time?

    Down in the lobby there were still mobs of paparazzi, but I could no longer stand to be in his penthouse. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes as I pushed through the crowd waiting for a new headline.

    My mind went numb with emotion as people screamed questions at me and cameras started to record around me. I couldn’t contain it any longer, my legs were getting weak, and it was becoming difficult to walk. My knees crumpled underneath me. I was the prey, and the media became the predator.

    “Let her leave!” One familiar voice reigned clear against the crowd. A voice that commanded authority, a voice that had once commanded my body.

    Aiden ran up to me, holding my wrist firmly, and his grey eyes welled with worry as he searched my face. My once fluid limbs became rock in his embrace. He gently turns my face towards his but I reject his touch.

    “Get the hell away from her.” Damon’s infuriated oak eyes appeared and dared Aiden’s.

    Aiden glares at him, but looks at me to make a decision. “Let me go, Aiden,” I whisper to him. The press became as silent as my tone. I retract my wrist from his touch and Damon leads me away. Aiden’s blue irises look shattered in betrayal. The cameras focus on Aiden and consume the broken pieces of his heart.


    Rain from stormy clouds falling from my eyes brings me back into reality. Damon shields me with his jacket and ushers me into his cadillac. His gaze is fixated on me, it is slightly worried but I refuse to meet them.

    “How did you know I didn’t leave Aiden’s?” I ask him. There is an amount of vulnerability I haven’t experienced dripping from my words. Damon is unsure of how to respond to my fragile state.

    “I just know, okay. Aiden is a bad person,” he finally says. “You didn’t do anything with him right?”

    “No.” My tone is cold and devoid of emotion. My supervisor lets out a sigh of relief at my answer. He stops the car in front of my apartment complex and strokes my hair. He plants a kiss ontop my head. It was different than the bittersweet one Aiden and I shared last night.

    Damon’s was rough, it was one sided, it was forced. But I froze. His hand trails up to my thigh. I no longer had a complete and functioning consciousness, I just needed something to fill the pain.

    I allowed my body to react. Before long his hand lingered on the skin on my back, having made its way beneath my shirt. He aches towards me, yearning for physical fulfillment.

    “We shouldn’t,” I breath heavily. “You’re my supervisor…”

    “I’m also the head of the publication, Iris. I’m everyone’s supervisor.” He looks slightly deflated. But eventually, Damon leads me into my building with a steady hand.

    When I arrive at the floor of my apartment the door has creaked open. And inside, chatting casually with Jasmine, was someone I thought I’d never see again. Ambassador Cindermil.

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