Late that night, Jared tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep.
Earlier that day, he had received some very bad news from his childhood friend, Bryce.
Bryce had lied to him. He wasn't a successful hotshot lawyer.
In fact, he was a massive failure.
Bryce had recently blown hundreds of thousands of dollars gambling in Las Vegas. And worse, most of that money wasn't his. He had maxed out credit cards and borrowed heavily from loan sharks.
Unable to pay, Bryce had fled the US and come to the Bahamas to hide out.
He hadn't lied about the seaside villa and the luxury yacht in Nassau—they were indeed collateral his law firm had seized after winning a case. But Bryce had neglected to mention that he was only allowed to stay there temporarily. He had begged a former colleague to let him use the place under the guise of an "inspection."
He was strictly forbidden from taking the yacht out.
Discovering that his "successful" brother was actually a debt-ridden deadbeat shattered Jared's plans. Bryce couldn't provide the funding they needed for a proper deep-sea salvage operation.
Jared had returned from the nightclub weighed down by anxiety.
At the club, Bryce hadn't even bothered looking for his missing girlfriend, Amanda. Instead, he had spent the entire night hounding Jared, trying to convince him to go back down to the crashed plane they had found a few days ago.
Bryce wanted to pull up a few bricks of cocaine and sell them for quick cash to clear his debts.
Jared had initially resisted. It wasn't that he didn't want the money.
Two days ago, when they first discovered the plane and realized it was packed with cartel drugs, Jared had impulsively brought one brick up to the boat.
Sam had exploded.
His sweet, steady girlfriend drew a hard line in the sand. She absolutely refused to let Jared touch the drugs, threatening to go to the police if he did.
Given that he had recently enraged her by pawning her dead mother's necklace—and had failed to buy it back because some anonymous buyer had snatched it up—Jared couldn't afford to push her any further.
He had compromised and agreed not to touch the cocaine.
So, when Bryce pressured him at the club, Jared hesitated, fearing Sam's reaction. He never gave Bryce a definitive "yes."
But now, lying alone in the dark, Jared's mind spun.
For years, his terrible temper and Bates's relentless suppression had kept him at the bottom of the barrel. He was constantly getting fired, forcing him to rely on Sam's meager income.
Jared acted like he didn't care, but it ate at his pride. He desperately wanted to prove he was a capable man who could provide for her. He needed a massive payout.
And now, a plane filled with hundreds of millions of dollars in cocaine was sitting at the bottom of the ocean.
Even a fraction of that haul—just a few million dollars—would change his life forever.
It was impossible not to be tempted. But he knew Sam. She would never compromise her principles for drug money.
Trapped between his greed and his fear of losing her, Jared couldn't sleep.
Suddenly, a dog started barking outside.
Then came a knock at the door.
Jared frowned. He knew it couldn't be Sam. She was still furious with him and wouldn't come over this late. Besides, his adopted stray dog loved Sam and wouldn't bark at her.
Curious, Jared got up and opened the door.
A woman reeking of alcohol stumbled forward, collapsing directly into his arms.
"Amanda!"
Jared caught her, stunned. He hadn't seen her since she vanished at the club earlier tonight. Why was she here?
"Hehehe!"
Amanda let out a sloppy, intoxicated giggle.
What shocked Jared more was the realization that she was missing her top. She had tumbled into his arms wearing only her bra and a mini-skirt.
"I'm sleepy. Let's go to bed," she slurred.
She casually tossed her small clutch bag behind the door.
Then, she began to squirm restlessly against his chest.
Before Jared could fully process the situation, she reached down, unzipped her mini-skirt, and kicked it away into the corner.
The sudden display of skin and curves made Jared's breath hitch.
"Darling, let's sleep," Amanda whispered, trailing a hand gently down his cheek, acting as if she were too drunk to realize who was holding her.
As Jared swallowed hard, paralyzed by indecision, Amanda moved like a slippery eel.
She stepped back slightly, reached behind her back, and unhooked her bra. She tossed it casually aside.
Now completely bare, the stunning blonde leaned heavily back against him.
Breathing in the intoxicating mix of alcohol and expensive perfume, the fragile string of logic in Jared's brain simply snapped.
For a brief, catastrophic moment, he forgot she was his best friend's girlfriend. He forgot about Sam.
He scooped Amanda up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
The Next Morning.
Sam had been woken up in the middle of the night by the dog barking next door. She had tossed and turned for the rest of the night, plagued by an unexplainable sense of unease.
She got up early. After washing up, she didn't bother making breakfast. Instead, she stepped outside.
"Hey, baby," she cooed, noticing Jared's dog pacing anxiously in front of his door.
As she reached out to pet the dog, her eyes landed on the doorknob.
Draped over the handle was a woman's floral shirt.
Sam froze. Her face tightened.
She pushed the door—it hadn't been latched properly—and stepped inside.
The first thing she saw was a familiar designer clutch bag lying on the floor.
A few feet away lay a mini-skirt.
Then, a bra.
Sam started to tremble. Her blood ran cold.
She rushed toward the messy bedroom.
One glance was all it took.
Tangled together in the bed, fast asleep, were two people.
One was her boyfriend, Jared.
The other was Amanda.
A wave of intense dizziness washed over Sam. She stumbled backward, nearly falling.
She reached out blindly and grabbed the bedroom doorframe to steady herself. The old hinges let out a loud, screeching creak.
The sound stirred Jared. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes.
He saw Sam standing in the doorway.
"Sam?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He started to raise his hand to wave at her.
But as he moved, he felt a weight clinging to his arm.
He looked down.
The memories of last night crashed into him like a tidal wave.
All the color drained from Jared's face. True panic seized him.
"Sam, wait, let me—"
But Sam didn't say a word. Her expression was a mask of absolute, devastating finality.
She turned on her heel and walked out.
SLAM!
The heavy thud of the front door echoed through the shack.
Jared scrambled out of bed, grabbing for his pants. He knew Sam. He knew that look.
It was over.
He sprinted out of the room, desperate to catch her.
Because he was running in a blind panic, he completely missed the sight of the supposedly "dead asleep" Amanda opening one eye just a fraction.
A sly, triumphant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
One hundred thousand dollars.
It was the easiest money she had ever made.
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