Chapter 425

There she was. Maeve.

Thankfully, the door wasn’t fully open yet—she hadn’t stepped inside and spotted me. Good.

Time had already halted the moment I triggered the skill. The world outside the window was frozen: snowflakes suspended mid-fall like white confetti caught in amber, distant traffic locked in place, even the faint steam from someone’s coffee cup downstairs hanging motionless in the air.

I rose quickly from the chair, grabbed the laptop off her desk, and moved toward her. She stood frozen in the doorway—mid-stride, one hand still on the knob, expression neutral, professional, the same calm mask she always wore.

I lifted her right hand gently—fingers cool and limp—and pressed her index finger to the reader on the laptop lid. The sensor beeped once, soft green light flashing. Unlocked.

"Let’s see..." I muttered, carrying the laptop back to her desk and setting it down. "What was that beep sound, huh? Maybe the same beep that came from the hidden cam?"

The desktop loaded instantly. Clean, minimal—medical journals, patient notes, a single locked folder labeled simply "1".

I used her fingerprint again. The folder opened.

Inside was fifteen video files, neatly named with dates and short descriptors. Custom_Order_01, Custom_Order_02, Custom_Order_03... all the way to the most recent one, timestamped two days ago.

I clicked the first.

The screen filled with a woman recording herself in a bathroom mirror, phone held high. She was completely naked—curvy, confident, skin glowing under warm lighting. Big, heavy tits hung full and natural, dark nipples already hard. Wide hips flared into a thick, juicy ass that jiggled slightly when she turned sideways for the camera. A pair of fluffy black dog ears perched on her head—part of a cheap but sexy costume set—and a matching collar with a little silver tag dangled between her breasts. A bushy tail plug was clearly visible when she bent forward, the base nestled snug between her cheeks.

Next to her stood a man—fully clothed in jeans and a black hoodie, arms crossed, smirking at the camera like he owned the room. Boyfriend, probably. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him yet.

"Hello, Maeve!" the woman chirped, voice bright and performative. "Thanks for joining my OnlyFans and ordering a custom video!"

She turned, showing off the tail plug again—wagging her hips so the fluffy end bounced.

"I’m wearing everything you sent me."

"Man, this is going to be exciting," the guy said, voice low and amused.

"Oh, it’ll be," she replied, grinning. "Come on, let’s go."

The video cut.

Then the next scene came, nighttime park. Empty paths, sodium lamps casting long orange pools. The woman was on all fours now—naked except for the ears, collar, and tail plug—crawling slowly toward a tree while her boyfriend set the phone up on a low branch. Once the framing was perfect, he knelt behind her, grabbed the collar, and tugged it back gently.

She lifted one leg—high, exaggerated, like a dog marking territory—and pissed against the tree trunk. A clear stream arced out; she exhaled shakily, cheeks flushed, clearly thrilled and terrified at the same time.

They both laughed—quiet, conspiratorial. He checked the surroundings once more, no one, then dropped to his knees behind her and started fucking her doggy-style, right there under the streetlight.

I fast-forwarded. The rest was more of the same: outdoor play, tail-plug wagging, collar-pulling, her moaning like she was in heat. Nothing else stood out.

But the man... I paused on a clear frame of his face.

"Shit..." I muttered. "Vanessa’s boyfriend. The chick I exposed at the gala. He had her do something similar..."

I closed the video and opened the next. Another custom order. Then another. All the same woman, different scenarios—public parks, alleyways, even a quiet beach at night. All commissioned by Maeve. All expensive.

"Fucking hell," I whispered. "Just how much money does she have to burn on this shit?"

I closed the folder, opened her browser. Several tabs were already loaded. I clicked the first one—a messaging app. Only three contacts visible: her father, her mother, and someone saved simply as "K" with no profile picture.

The most recent thread with "K" was from a few hours ago.

I read aloud, voice low in the frozen room:

"Maeve: Did you put the hidden cam in her office, K?"

"K: Why do you care?"

"Maeve: Stop it!"

"K: Fuck you, Maeve."

"Maeve: No, fuck you. I’ll call the cops."

"K: I’ll expose the pervert you are, then. Have fun explaining those videos to your parents."

That was it. No more messages.

Fuck.

So after we confronted her about the hidden cam in Nala’s office, Maeve knew exactly who might have planted it. But she said nothing. Hid it. And "K" was threatening to leak... what? The OnlyFans customs? The dog-play videos?

This was tangled. Deeply, dangerously tangled.

Realizing time was running low, I could feel the faint pressure in my temples that always signaled the skill was about to end, I quickly backed up the first five videos to my phone via bluetooth, snapped a photo of the K conversation with my phone, closed everything, locked the laptop with her fingerprint again, and placed it exactly back where it had been.

I walked to the window and stood in front of Maeve—still frozen mid-step in the doorway.

I exhaled.

Time resumed.

The world lurched back into motion. Snowflakes continued their lazy fall outside. Maeve finished stepping inside, door swinging shut behind her.

"Oh," she muttered, blinking once when she saw me standing by the window. "Mr. Marlowe."

"Evan," I corrected, turning slowly. "Hey, Maeve."

"Hey..." She closed the door fully, crossed to her chair, and sat—posture perfect, expression neutral. "How may I help you?"

"I was going to ask you about the hidden cam," I said, voice calm. "And why you’re refusing to help us trace it."

Her eyes flickered, just a fraction, but I caught it.

"I already told Mrs. Nolin about it," Maeve said quietly. "I can’t help with that. I left those years behind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mr. Marlowe. I’m sure."

I studied her for a moment. Calm posture. Steady eyes. No hesitation in her voice. If she was lying, she was good at it.

I had leverage now. The videos. The messages with K. Enough to pressure her if I really had to. But that would be the last option. Blackmailing the head doctor of TechForge, someone with a hacking background, sounded like a great way to create a powerful enemy. I didn’t need more of those.

I gave a small nod and crossed my arms. She mirrored the movement, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs, watching me carefully.

I tried to feel for that familiar internal push, the nudge of Honeyed Words, but nothing surfaced. Either my charm wasn’t high enough, or I hadn’t invested enough into the skill. Either way, I was on my own.

"Okay," I said finally. "I’ll leave you to it."

"Thank you, Mr. Marlowe," she replied. "Have a nice day."

"You too, Maeve."

"Mm..."

I stepped out and closed the door behind me.

So Tuck was out. Maeve was out. I didn’t know anyone else who could trace where that hidden camera was sending its footage. That left me with one lead.

K.

I needed to find out who K was.

My phone buzzed again in my pocket. I pulled it out while walking toward the elevators.

Cora.

I had already missed a few of her calls today. Ignoring her again would just make things worse. I answered.

"Hey, Cora."

"E-Evan." Her voice was shaky. "Um... how are you?"

"I’m good," I said. "You sound nervous. What’s wrong?"

"I was wondering if we could... maybe hang out..."

I closed my eyes briefly as I stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the button.

Not now. I couldn’t afford distractions. Not after Kayla. Not with the hidden cam. Not with Chase still in the background of all this.

"I’m sorry, Cora," I said carefully. "Maybe another time? I promise."

"O-okay," she replied softly. "Another time. Yes."

Guilt settled in my chest, but I pushed it down. I didn’t have space for it.

"I’ll see you soon, Cora."

"Of course," she said. "Um... bye..."

The call ended just as the elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside, staring at my reflection in the metal wall.

One problem at a time.

First, Chase.

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

I sat in the waiting area outside Chase Bellings’ office, legs stretched out, phone balanced on my thigh, scrolling aimlessly through X to kill time. The place hadn’t changed since my last visit: same beige walls, same fake plant in the corner, same low-volume jazz drifting from a speaker somewhere. I’d been here eearly on purpose. Observation was the goal today. Watch who came and went. Watch their faces.

My phone buzzed once—soft vibration against my leg.

Notification from Minne.

I tapped it open.

The photo loaded instantly.

Minne bent over the dining table at home, back arched, maid skirt rucked up around her waist. No panties. A thick black buttplug nestled snug between her pale cheeks, the flared base glinting under the kitchen lights. Tessa’s face was pressed playfully against one ass cheek—cheeky grin, tongue poking out, peace sign flashed right next to Minne’s hip. Minne’s head was turned just enough to look back at the camera, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Caption beneath it read, ’We have a surprise for you, stud’

Well, not really a surprise now, huh?

My cock gave an immediate, insistent throb—thickening against my zipper in seconds. I exhaled through my nose, shifted in the chair to hide the growing bulge, and fired off three heart emojis in reply.