Blackmailed Between My Thighs - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Isabella's marriage was a train wreck—her husband had a mistress and a love child, while she was tangled up with a man nearly ten years her junior. Messy? Absolutely. But at the end of the day, it was still her private life.
The person who planted that hidden camera, though? That was a whole different crime.
From illegal surveillance to distributing the footage, every step was a felony.
I wasn’t about to let that slide. The next morning, I got to the office early and called Daniel in under the guise of a work discussion.
He strolled into my office, eyes flickering around before he dropped into the chair across from me with that infuriating smirk.
"Summoning me in broad daylight, Vivian? Someone’s feeling bold."
The implication made my skin crawl. Suddenly, even his perfectly sculpted jawline looked disgusting.
I didn’t bother with small talk. "Was it you who planted the camera?"
A flash of panic—there and gone. He waved me off. "No clue what you’re talking about."
I scoffed and swiveled my laptop toward him, hitting play.
This was footage Michael had dug up for me. In the video, Daniel—hoodie up, baseball cap low—sauntered into the restroom like he didn’t have a care in the world.
From the official security feed, it looked like nothing. Just a guy killing time. But then he slipped into a blind spot and vanished for a few minutes.
To anyone else, meaningless. But paired with the illicit recording? Undeniable.
The hidden camera’s footage showed him planting the device in that exact spot.
As the video played, Daniel’s face drained of color.
He shot up, towering over me, but his voice cracked. "Vivian, I swear—this wasn’t my idea!"
A few heads turned outside at the outburst. I yanked him back down and hissed, "Sit. The hell. Down."
His legs gave out, and he collapsed into the chair like a puppet with cut strings.
I barely knew the guy, but his reaction said it all—all swagger, no spine.
Sure enough, after a few sharp questions, he folded.
"I was talking to Nathan once, mentioned how close I’d gotten with Isabella… He told me to seduce her, get something on tape, then use it to blackmail her for promotions later."
Daniel was sweating now, fists clenched. "You know how it is for us tech guys—if you don’t climb fast, you’re roadkill. When an opportunity drops in your lap, you take it."
Under different circumstances, I might’ve laughed at the "roadkill" comment.
But the thought of Isabella—trapped from both sides—sent ice through my veins.
If the blackmail worked, she’d live in fear. If it failed? Those videos would go public, shredding her reputation.
My mind raced. For now, I sent Daniel packing with a warning—deliver a message to Nathan, hand over every last memory card, or face the consequences.
Afterward, I went looking for Isabella, only to find her office empty.
A quick check revealed she’d called out for the day.
I’d been to her place before, so I grabbed a cab and headed straight there. But after pounding on her door for minutes with no answer, I was starting to worry.
Finally, her elderly landlady trudged upstairs, scowling, spare key in hand.
Tiny but terrifying, she barked, "What’s wrong with your friend?! Last night, she was drunk, screaming, crying like the world was ending! One more scene like that, and she’s out!"
Too embarrassed to explain that Isabella was a department head, I apologized profusely and let myself in.
The apartment was a war zone—dozens of liquor bottles scattered across the floor.
And there, sprawled on the couch, was Isabella—surrounded by a sea of white pills.