Marina and Madeline didn’t get along—not even close. The tension between them was thicker than syrup, heavier than lead. They treated each other like enemies—worse than enemies.

The way Madeline spoke to Marina, the way Marina flinched under her gaze—it was clear they hated each other. And I couldn’t help but chuckle internally, amused by the drama unfolding before me.

They finished their breakfast in silence, the air thick with unspoken hostility. Madeline didn’t say a word to Marina as she stood up, grabbed her handbag, and walked out of the dining room, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a declaration of victory.

Marina stayed seated, her expression stony, her eyes burning with rage and humiliation.

I followed Madeline, my mind racing with the implications of the game I was now entangled in. The car was already waiting outside—a sleek, black luxury vehicle, shining under the morning sun.

Daisy, the driver, stood by the door, her posture rigid, her expression neutral. Madeline didn’t spare her a glance as she slid into the backseat, her movements graceful, commanding.

I opened the front passenger door and slid in beside Daisy, my posture straight, my eyes flickering to the rearview mirror where I could see Madeline sitting back, her phone in hand, her fingers moving quickly over the screen. She didn’t say where we were going—not to me, not to Daisy. But it didn’t matter. She was in control.

"Drive to this location..." Madeline said, her voice sharp, commanding, as she sent the address to the car’s navigation system.

Daisy nodded, her hands tightening on the wheel, her eyes flickering to the screen as the route loaded. The engine purred to life, and we pulled away from the house, leaving Marina—and her seething rage—behind.

The ride was silent, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the occasional tap of Madeline’s fingers on her phone.

I watched the scenery pass by, my mind racing with possibilities. Where were we going? Why had Madeline chosen me as her bodyguard? And what was Marina’s plan in all of this?

The car slowed as we approached a massive iron gate, the letters on the stone pillars announcing the estate of someone wealthy—someone powerful.

Daisy rolled down the window, exchanging a few words with the guard, who nodded and waved us through. The gate creaked open, and we drove in, the path lined with manicured gardens and towering trees.

Daisy parked the car at the entrance of the mansion, a grand structure of stone and glass, gleaming under the sunlight. I stepped out, moving quickly to open Madeline’s door before she could complain. But as I reached for the handle, I froze.

A woman was walking out of the mansion’s gates—tall, elegant, exuding an aura of power and confidence. She was dressed in a fitted white dress, her hair pinned back in a sleek bun, her sunglasses perched on her nose. And as she spotted Madeline, her face lit up with a smile—genuine, warm, affectionate.

It was Eleanor.

She hurried toward the car, her heels clicking against the pavement like a metronome counting down to chaos. As soon as Madeline stepped out, Eleanor pulled her into a tight embrace, her voice bright, happy, genuine.

"Madeline!" she exclaimed, her arms wrapping around her friend like she was the only person in the world who mattered. "It’s been too long..." Madeline returned the hug, her expression softening for the first time since I’d met her. The ice queen had thawed—just a little.

I stood back, my posture straight, my eyes scanning the scene. So Madeline had come to meet her friend Eleanor. Interesting. The dynamic between them was clear—allies, confidantes, partners in crime, or gossip, or whatever the hell they were plotting.

Eleanor linked her arm with Madeline’s, pulling her toward the mansion, her voice warm, inviting. "Come on in... We have so much to catch up on..." Madeline laughed—a real laugh, not the cold, mocking sound she’d used on Marina.

The contrast was stark, and I couldn’t help but watch as the two women walked ahead of me, their asses swaying in perfect rhythm, taunting me with every step.

I followed behind, my eyes locked on the sight—two powerful women, two queens, two targets of Marina’s ire. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Marina had sent me to seduce Madeline, to blackmail her, to bring her down. But here I was, watching Madeline and Eleanor laughing, bonding, unaware of the storm brewing in their wake.

We entered the living area, a spacious room bathed in natural light, elegant furniture scattered around like pieces on a chessboard. Eleanor sat down on a plush sofa, pulling Madeline beside her, their heads leaning together like conspirators.

I stood behind them, my posture rigid, my eyes scanning the room. And then I saw her—Carter, standing near a window, her arms crossed, her gaze sharp, watchful. She nodded at me, a small acknowledgment, but didn’t say a word.

Eleanor turned to Madeline, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though I could still hear every word. "So... have you met your dear daughter-in-law yet?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Madeline scoffed, her lips curling into a sneer. "That bitch..." she spat, the word dripping with venom. It was clear she didn’t even want to say Marina’s name.

Eleanor leaned in closer, her voice a whisper, but her eyes flickered to me, peeking to see if I was listening. I was. And so was Carter, her gaze locked on the two women, her expression unreadable.

"She has gotten closer to Brittany recently..." Eleanor murmured, her voice low, teasing. "Brittany has been giving her some gifts..."

Madeline’s eyebrows shot up, her voice sharp, demanding. "What gift?" There was a hint of alarm in her tone, a flicker of something darker—fear, curiosity, rage.

Eleanor leaned in even closer, her voice a whisper, her eyes darting to me again. And then I understood. She was talking about the dildo—the gift Brittany had given to Marina. The one Marina was using under the blanket that night. The one that I replaced with my cock.