The Devil's Bargain
The air inside the 2025 Rolls-Royce Spectre was too still, too clean—like the silence before a landslide. The scent of leather and wealth filled the back seat, but none of it eased the heaviness pressing against William Hart's chest. He sat rigidly, his phone resting loosely in his palm, as the city lights of Manhattan flickered past the tinted windows like flashbulbs from a relentless dream.
The headlines didn't stop.
He thumbed past yet another tag — #HartGlobalExposed — and kept scrolling, his face pale in the blue light of his phone screen.
"Shell Games: Hart Global Accused of Laundering for Eastern Syndicates""Interpol Confirms Active Investigation Into Hart Global Board""From Boardroom to Backdoor: How Hart Group Moved Dirty Money Through Clean Contracts""Hart Group in Free Fall: Stocks Plummet Amid Scandal""Anonymous Leaks: Hart Group Email Archive Released — 70GB of Corporate Corruption"
Every swipe was a nail in the coffin. He saw the memes. The edited videos. Old gala photos of him next to world leaders now plastered with red headlines: Fraud. Liar. Criminal.
A week ago, he was on the shortlist for a federal advisory board.Now he was on Interpol's watchlist.
The silence of the car was interrupted only by the occasional vibration of his phone as more alerts popped up. He ignored most of them.
Until one name stopped him cold.
Theo Dore
William paused, staring at the search bar. Mira's voice echoed in his mind, trembling and sharp:"You're giving your daughter to a monster."
He swallowed hard and typed Theo's name.
What appeared… was a horror show wearing a designer suit.
Theo Dore: The Dark Side of the Dore Heir"Money Can't Buy Morals: The Violent History of Theo Dore""Ex-Girlfriend Speaks Out: 'He Turned Me Into a Ghost'""Billionaire or Beast? The Hidden Abuse Allegations Against Theo Dore"
There were pictures — nightclub brawls, women crying outside hotel lobbies, smashed hotel suites. And those were the public incidents.
William's thumb hovered over a video thumbnail.
The caption read:
"EXCLUSIVE: The Woman Theo Destroyed — Her Story From Dubai"
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
The screen opened on a woman in her mid-twenties. Her skin was pale. She wore no makeup. Her hair had clearly once been long and lush, but now hung uneven, half-cut and limp. Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot, the whites rimmed red. She sat on a terrace, the skyline of Dubai glittering behind her like some cruel irony.
"Hi," she said softly, then paused. "I don't even know if I'm allowed to do this. I signed so many NDAs. But I can't stay silent anymore."
She swallowed hard. The camera shook slightly. She was holding it herself.
"My name is… was Sofia," she said. "And for three years, I dated Theo Dore."
A deep breath. Her hands trembled.
"At first, it was perfect. He was charming. Generous. He knew all the right things to say. But it didn't take long before the mask slipped."
The background buzzed with the ambient noise of the Dubai night — traffic, faint music, the distant clink of glasses.
"He isolated me. Took my phone. Hired drivers who only answered to him. I wasn't allowed to work. He'd fly into rages when I wore lipstick without asking him. Once, I smiled at a waiter and he locked me out of our penthouse all night."
Tears slipped down her cheeks. Her voice cracked.
"He made me feel like I was the problem. Every bruise, every breakdown… was my fault. And then he started calling me crazy in public. Even his friends looked the other way. They joked about it."
She looked up. Her eyes burned.
"And the Dores… they knew. They paid off doctors. They covered hospital visits. They bought silence."
She leaned forward now, voice shaking.
"So, to whoever you are… whoever is marrying him next… run. Run and never look back. Because I didn't. And I lost everything."
Her face collapsed in on itself. The screen shook violently, then went black.
Back to: William Hart in the Car
William stared at the phone, his reflection faint in the screen — hollow, tired, afraid.
The video ended, and the silence that followed was thick enough to drown in.
He dropped the phone onto the seat beside him like it burned.
Theo Dore was worse than a mistake. He was a disease.
And William—he was feeding his daughter to it.
"Sir?" the driver's voice came quietly from the front seat. "Everything okay?"
William didn't answer. His heart pounded. Sweat dampened the collar of his shirt.
This wasn't just about money anymore.It was about morality.It was about his daughter's life.
But then another vibration. And another. William looked down again.
"Breaking: Hart Global COO Arrested in Warsaw""New Leaks Reveal $1.2 Billion Transferred Through Shell Companies""Senator Demands Hart Group Be Stripped of All Federal Contracts""Rumors Swirl That William Hart Is Next in Line for Interpol Arrest"
His lungs constricted.
He'd spent forty years building Hart Global. His life's work. His legacy. His name. His world.And now it was being torn apart by PDF files and shadowy hackers in ski masks.
The Dores were the only ones who had offered a way out.
Harrison Dore had said it simply:"You give us your daughter, and the case dies. You keep her... and so do the headlines."
Could he let it all fall?
Was he willing to trade his empire for his daughter's future?
Or trade his daughter's soul to save his own skin?
William Hart, billionaire. Head of Hart Global. Father.Now stood on the edge of a cliff — and the ground was giving way beneath both feet.
He looked out the window as the car turned onto Fifth Avenue. A huge screen above a luxury store flashed another headline.
"Billionaire Betrayal: Hart Group's Fall from Grace"
And just beneath it, another flashing alert:
"Theo Dore Engaged — Mysterious Bride-to-Be Rumored to Be Daughter of Disgraced Tycoon"
William's hands trembled as he reached for the phone again.
He saw himself in the reflection of the screen.
And hated the man looking back.
With a ragged breath, he leaned back in the seat, pinched the bridge of his nose, and whispered:
"What have I done?"
Then, in a sudden burst of rage, he hurled the phone across the cabin. It slammed into the leather panel of the opposite seat with a sickening crack.
The driver flinched.
"Sir?"
"Drive," William said hoarsely. "Just… drive."