I Made $1,200 Trillion in 24 Hours

Dangerous Games

Chapter 5 

Jericho's POV 

The office was quiet, almost eerily so. I sat behind my massive oak desk, staring at the glowing city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was late, but sleep had abandoned me. Something in the pit of my stomach told me tonight wouldn’t be ordinary.

I didn’t have to wait long to confirm it. The sound of heels clicking sharply across the polished floor made my pulse quicken. Clara. She didn’t knock. She just walked in, eyes flicking toward me, a slow smile curling on her lips.

I stood, instinctively straightening my jacket. “Clara,” I said calmly, though my voice carried a sharp edge. “I thought I told you to leave when you failed to prove your usefulness.”

Her smile didn’t falter. If anything, it widened. “I did prove it, Jericho. But I came to… celebrate our progress. Together.” Her voice was honey-sweet, but I recognized the underlying poison.

I gestured toward the chair across from me. “Sit. Speak quickly.”

She moved, deliberately slow, each step measured. I noticed it then—her dress. It was short, scandalously so, hugging her body in all the right places. She had done this on purpose. Every curve, every angle calculated. She wanted to distract me, to manipulate me, to make me vulnerable.

I didn’t flinch.

“You know,” she began, running a finger along the edge of the desk, “we’ve come so far. Don’t you think we deserve… a moment of… closeness?” Her eyes locked onto mine, dark and demanding.

I leaned back, watching her carefully. “I see what you’re doing, Clara. And I’m not falling for it.”

Her hand traced the side of my desk as she leaned forward, a sultry smile on her face. “Oh, Jericho… you’ve changed. I can tell you have power now. And it’s… very attractive.”

I didn’t respond. My mind was calculating, scanning for threats. Something about her tone, her movements—it was too deliberate. She wasn’t here because she wanted me. She was here because she wanted *something from me.*

“You don’t trust me?” she whispered, stepping even closer. “After everything… after all this time?”

I finally stood, keeping a measured distance between us. “I don’t trust anyone who once left me to rot, Clara. And I certainly don’t trust someone who suddenly decides she loves me again.”

Her eyes darkened, flicking with frustration. She reached for my arm. I caught it instantly, squeezing just enough to stop her from moving closer.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, voice low. “I know your game.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if she was about to protest, but I didn’t give her a chance. I could feel it—her desperation, the dangerous plan she was hiding beneath that pretty smile. My instincts screamed that she had cameras, evidence, something ready to turn against me.

She straightened suddenly, her fingers fluttering near her neckline. “I just… want a moment with you, Jericho. That’s all.”

I stepped back, keeping her in view. “I don’t do ‘moments.’ I do results. And right now, your only result is proving whether you’re loyal or not.”

She froze for a split second, and I knew I had caught her hesitation.

Then she pulled out her phone. My stomach sank as the glow of the screen reflected in her eyes. She’s recording.

“You’re… you’re filming me?” I asked, voice tight.

Her smile widened, a predatory gleam flashing in her eyes. “I’m documenting our time together, Jericho. So there’s no mistake… nothing can be denied later.”

I stepped to the side, immediately blocking her line of sight. “You think you can trap me? Frame me?”

She tilted her head innocently, but I could see it—the calculation. She wanted to make it look like I was the predator, not the one in control. “I… I’m just trying to capture memories.”

I laughed, bitter and low. “Memories? You’re trying to destroy me. And I won’t let you.”

She advanced slowly, each step deliberate. “You always underestimate me, Jericho. You think I’m weak. But I’ve learned, and I know how to get what I want.”

I raised my hands, keeping my distance. “Clara, I’m giving you one chance. Put the phone down. Stop this now. Or I will do more than block your camera. I will make sure everyone knows the truth—your truth.”

Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but only a fraction. She tilted her phone just slightly, making sure the lens stayed on me.

I stepped forward, moving quickly to grab the phone. She jerked back, trying to keep it out of reach. “Don’t touch me!” she cried, but I could hear the strain in her voice.

“I won’t hit you,” I said firmly, my hands steady. “But I will disarm you. And believe me, Clara, I’m faster than you think.”

She lunged suddenly, and instinctively, I grabbed her wrist, twisting just enough to make her drop the phone onto the desk. It didn’t break, but the angle shifted—it was no longer filming me directly.

Her eyes blazed. “You… you can’t control everything!”

I leaned close, voice cold and deliberate. “I control the consequences, Clara. Not the seduction, not the lies, but what happens next. And right now, the consequences are mine.”

She stepped back, breathing hard, her hands shaking slightly. The confidence she had tried to project was slipping. And yet, her next move made my blood run cold. She started typing furiously on the phone, trying to get it to record again.

I moved faster. One hand on the desk, one on hers, and the phone slipped from her fingers, skittering across the floor.

“This ends now,” I said firmly, looking straight into her eyes. “I won’t be manipulated. Not by you, not by anyone.”

She straightened, trying to regain her composure. “You think you’ve won, but you haven’t seen the whole game.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Then show me the rest, Clara. Show me the rest.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned abruptly and stormed out, leaving the door swinging behind her. My chest heaved as I processed the encounter. The adrenaline was rushing, my heart hammering in my ears.

I crouched and picked up her phone. Nothing incriminating yet, just the partially recorded footage from earlier. I tapped the screen, smiling grimly. “Nice try.”

**************************

Over the next few days, Clara tried every tactic she could think of. Emails, texts, unexpected visits—but I remained calm, calculated. Every attempt she made to lure me into compromising situations was met with precise, controlled responses.

One afternoon, she showed up at the office wearing a red dress so tight it left little to the imagination. Her heels clicked against the floor like a warning bell. “Jericho… we need to talk. Alone.”

I looked up from my desk. “You’ll need more than a dress to get what you want.”

Her lips parted. “Jericho… just one moment.”

I shook my head slowly. “You’ve had your moments, Clara. Now it’s time for reality.”

Her smile faltered, and I could see her frustration building. She wanted me to slip, wanted me to make a mistake—but I had trained for this. I had built more than wealth; I had built control, discipline, patience.

“Clara,” I said, standing slowly, “you don’t get to manipulate me anymore. You can’t seduce me, and you can’t threaten me. Everything you’re trying to do will fail because I see it all.”

She stepped closer, dangerously close this time. “You think you’re untouchable, but everyone has a weakness.”

I held my ground. “Maybe. But not this one.”

I reached for her phone again, already predicting the attempt, and this time I disabled the camera completely. She glared at me, her eyes dark with anger and disbelief.

“You’re… impossible!” she spat.

I smiled, letting the satisfaction settle like fire in my chest. “No, Clara. I’m unstoppable.”

Later that night, I reviewed every possible threat. Every file, every message, every surveillance feed linked to Clara. If she tried to frame me, I would see it coming—and I would neutralize it before it even reached public attention.

The system buzzed quietly, updating me on potential risks. I could track her attempts, anticipate her moves, and act before she had a chance to strike.

And yet, despite the tension, a part of me couldn’t help but admire her cunning. She was dangerous, intelligent, and relentless—the kind of opponent most men would fear. But she had underestimated me. She didn’t know Jericho Matthew anymore.

I leaned back in my chair, the city lights stretching endlessly beyond the windows. Tonight had been a warning, a test of patie

nce and control. Clara had tried to seduce me, to trap me, to frame me.

She failed.

And I was just getting started.