The Actor's Emperor System

Chapter 3: Wait, Did I Just Become the Prey?

Man, Caleb Davis finally got it. The secret sauce of true, forbidden thrill.

Forget "mere pleasure"—there’s this thing about wicked ecstasy, you know? It's that moment when you combine an A-list star, a married woman, and her absolutely furious husband pounding on the door just feet away. It was a kind of high so reckless, so intoxicating, he actually considered inviting Brandon Smith in to watch the culmination of his own betrayal. Total madness.

Time, weirdly, felt both agonizingly slow and lightning fast.

It was a full, tense twenty minutes after Brandon Smith first tried to rattle the doorknob before the moment finally broke.

Caleb Davis was done. He literally just collapsed back onto the deep velvet sofa, sucking wind, sweat running down his temples like he'd just run a marathon. Helena Madison, next to him, was just as wrecked.

She was sprawled out, all boneless and languid, her usually perfect hair scattered everywhere. Her eyes, those shrewd, foxy things she was famous for, were wide, glazed over, and totally lost. She just stared blankly at the ceiling tiles, panting like she'd never breathe again.

It took the deep, bone-aching exhaustion hitting her all at once for Helena Madison to finally snap back.

The first thing she felt was discomfort. She turned her head, her voice raw. "Caleb Davis, are you seriously trying to kill me?"

Before he could even open his mouth, a sudden spike of panic hit her face. "Wait. You didn't pull out?"

"Nope," he confirmed, sounding ridiculously honest and innocent. "You squeezed too tight at the end, Sister Helena. Like, legitimately. I couldn't break free."

She rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck. Pure annoyance.

Seriously? She was practically dead from exhaustion, and somehow, that made it her fault?

He's a big, strong guy! How dare he blame his size on her?

She didn't believe his lame excuse for a second, but she was too exhausted to pick a fight. They had a much, much bigger problem than his fake innocence right now.

The main issue was the enraged man still stuck right outside the bolted door.

"The secret door is over there," Helena Madison whispered urgently, pointing toward the heavy wine cabinet. "Take the bottles down first, press hard on the back panel, and push. You'll see the passage."

"You go. I'll text you later."

She forced herself up off the couch, pushing herself to stand, and started frantically pulling on her clothes.

Watching her rush, Caleb Davis paused with the tissue he'd grabbed. "That urgent, huh?"

"It's my husband, you idiot! Yes, it's urgent! Get out!" she hissed, her irritation bordering on desperation.

"Fine, fine," Caleb Davis muttered, conceding the point.

He dressed fast, gathered his remaining stuff, and went to the wine cabinet, following her rapid-fire instructions exactly.

Click. The hidden panel sprang open.

Just as he was about to dive into the passage, something stopped him. He turned back, suddenly suspicious. "Wait a minute. How are you so good at this? And why the hell does this room have a secret door? Sister Helena, was this, like, a plan?"

"Get lost and get in there!"

He'd hit a nerve. Helena Madison screamed the command, a mix of shame and blinding fury, and gave him a hard, well-aimed kick that shoved him into the dark passage.

She slammed the secret door shut, expertly reset the lock, and quickly stacked the heavy wine bottles back into place.

Then, Helena Madison grabbed a bottle of the strongest, heaviest perfume she kept around and sprayed the entire room down, trying to kill any lingering scent.

She had initially thought about fixing her hair and maybe touching up her lipstick to look convincingly drunk. But one look in the mirror confirmed it wasn't necessary.

That jerk Caleb Davis had already taken care of her appearance—she looked perfectly ruined.

When Brandon Smith pounded on the door again, she walked over and slid the bolt.

---

Click—

Brandon Smith heard the loud, distinct sound of the lock and surged forward.

He practically ripped the door open, his eyes immediately sweeping past Helena Madison’s exhausted, lifeless face.

He shoved past her, storming inside.

His furious gaze swept the entire entertainment room, searching for a man, a fight, or a sign of a struggle.

All he saw was a wasteland of empty beer bottles and dozens of cigarette butts scattered all over the floor.

Brandon Smith froze.

What the hell?

No one is here?

The entire twenty minutes he'd spent locked out, his mind had run wild: Why did the voice stop? Why was it bolted? He was convinced—totally convinced—that Helena Madison was cheating, mirroring his own infidelity.

He’d been ready for a physical brawl. He was completely gutted to find the room empty.

Helena Madison stood behind him, arms crossed, staring at his bewildered face with icy contempt. "What? Are you disappointed that I wasn't cheating on you?"

Brandon Smith’s heart sank into his stomach.

He realized his massive mistake. He hadn't even looked at her when he entered. He had just charged in, blinded by his own guilt and suspicion.

If there had been a lover, he might have been justified. But the room was empty.

"I am screwed," he thought with a painful jolt.

He swallowed, hard, trying to look calm. He put on a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Honey, what nonsense are you talking about? Why on earth would I suspect you of cheating?"

"Ha! Really?" Helena Madison let out a harsh, chilling laugh. She looked at him with utter hatred. "If you didn't suspect me, then what was that pathetic, furious performance when you burst in here just now?"

"Uh, look, I..." Brandon Smith's eyes darted frantically, desperately searching for a lie.

Helena Madison cut him off. She grabbed an empty bottle from the table—crack!—and smashed it violently on the floor, exploding in fury:

"Brandon Smith! What the hell is your game?! Did you think you could publicly humiliate me and still treat me like your property?!"

"I haven't even finished settling the score with you for your cheating yet!"

"Now, simply because I made you wait outside for half an hour, you instantly jump to infidelity?!"

"You are truly unbelievable!"

"Are you so damn eager for me to cheat? Should I go outside right now, find a man, and hook up with him right in front of your face?!"

She'd seized the moral high ground perfectly and stunned him into silence. Helena Madison pressed the attack, a merciless, relentless interrogation.

Normally, his own arrogance would never have allowed him to endure this.

But today? Today, he was fundamentally and irrevocably wrong.

Faced with her righteous rage, Brandon Smith didn't dare say a single word in protest.

He waited until she finally paused, breathless, then reached out, pleadingly grabbing her wrist. "Honey, I messed up. Please. Don't be like this."

Helena Madison yanked her hand away, violently shaking off his touch.

"You messed up? No, I messed up! Brandon Smith, I swear I never realized what a disgusting scumbag you actually were!"

"We're done. This is over. We have absolutely nothing to do with each other anymore!"

"Get out! Get out of my house, and never, ever come back!"

(End of Chapter)