I'm In Love With My Bestfriend's Billionaire Fiance!
Chapter 91: And It Begins...

Chapter 91: And It Begins...

(Kira’s POV)

_________

Traffic at the shopping mall was a beast with a bad attitude and an even worse sense of direction. There were cars all over the place, blowing their horns out while screaming at pedestrians to get the fuck out of the way. This was worse than Silicon Valley on a Monday morning after a holiday weekend. Horns honked like a symphony of impatience, and an old guy in a truck a few feet away was clearly auditioning for Fast & Furious: Grocery Run. Still, I kept my cool—barely. I wasn’t supposed to be here, so I needed to do what I needed and get the hell out as fast as possible.

At the moment, I had just one goal, and that was the Rotary Supermarket. That was all that mattered to me and I was going to find it. I looked around me, trying to look above the sea of heads at the dazzling billboards and glistening neon signs. Not long after, I saw it.

There it was, looming ahead like some great capitalist temple, its enormous banner flapping in the wind like it was trying to warn me away. Fresh Deals Inside! it screamed in red and yellow lettering. Yeah, sure. Fresh deals... and possibly a sinister plot courtesy of Maven.

My stomach did a little somersault as I began to walk towards it. I was feeling overly self-conscious, hugging my jacket closer to my form. My nerves were trying to dance the cha-cha while my brain attempted to act like we had everything under control. Spoiler alert: we did not.

I found a space near the middle of the lot—close enough to not be suspicious, but not so close that I’d draw the wrong kind of attention. Kraven was still tailing a few blocks back, lurking in the shadows like the Batman of surveillance, which made me feel a little better. Emphasis on a little.

As I eased into the spot, I stared up at the glowing letters of the supermarket. It didn’t look like a hive of criminal activity. It looked like the kind of place you’d buy discount toilet paper and regret it later. But knowing Maven? There could be a secret underground lab beneath the frozen peas section for all I knew.

I let out a slow breath, my fingers drumming on the steering wheel as I tried to steady myself. "Come on," I muttered. "It’s just a supermarket. How bad could it be?"

Famous last words.

There was still the question of why Maven had sent me here in the first place. What was so important about this ordinary, slightly depressing building? Did he really just want me to go shopping? Or did he want me to find something else? Someone? Or was this just his way of making me sweat?

If it was, it was working.

"Well," I sighed, throwing the doors open and stepping into the cold air of the supermarket. "Guess it’s time to find out if I’m here to buy groceries or walk straight into a trap."

With one last glance toward the reflective glass—and the distant glint of Kraven’s car watching from afar—I adjusted my jacket, squared my shoulders, and made my way deeper into the supermarket.

"Let the games begin."

I sucked in a sharp breath as I zipped my jacket all the way up to my chin, the cold metal teeth scraping against the fabric like a quiet warning. The sliding glass doors hissed shut behind me, sealing me in.

And then it hit me.

"Holy hell," I muttered, frozen in place for a second. "What is this, a Black Friday?"

The Rotary Supermarket was packed. Not just busy—apocalyptically packed. I mean, shoulder-to-shoulder, shopping-cart jousting, aisle-blocking chaos. A sea of faces surged past me, every person lost in their own bubble of coupons, coffee-fueled urgency, and toddler meltdowns. It was like someone had sounded an alarm for free milk and the entire population of Parallel City had answered the call.

Now I understood the hype. This wasn’t just a supermarket—it was the supermarket. The kind that had three floors, an in-house bakery that smelled like heaven, and security guards who looked like they moonlighted as nightclub bouncers. And even though it was barely 9 a.m., the place was alive with an electric hum that felt... off. Like someone had cranked the volume of the world just a little too high.

For a moment, a chill crept up my spine—not from the air conditioning but from the paranoia gnawing at the back of my mind. What if someone recognized me?

I was the heiress to Beacon Studios, after all. Maven’s favorite target. But as a man with a shopping basket brushed past me without so much as a glance, I realized... no one here cared. No whispers. No stares. Not even a polite double take.

Middle-class folk didn’t concern themselves with corporate drama or the affairs of shadowy billionaires. They had bills to pay, mouths to feed, and cereal boxes to compare.

With a small sigh of relief, I pushed through the crowd and started toward the main building, weaving carefully between harried moms and squabbling teenagers. I made a note not to get run over by the man sprinting with two gallons of milk like his life depended on it.

As I stepped through the larger set of swinging doors, a sudden hush seemed to fall over my ears. The din of the mall faded, replaced by a strange stillness. The inside of the Rotary was surreal—almost too pristine. The ceilings stretched impossibly high, and the floor tiles shimmered under the lights, giving the illusion that I was walking on water.

It should’ve been beautiful. It was beautiful.

But it felt... staged.

Like a movie set waiting for its actors to arrive.

And I had a lead role I didn’t audition for.

I took another step, the echo of my boot a little too loud in the silence between conversations. My eyes scanned the polished aisles and velvet-smooth display shelves. This was Maven’s chosen location for a reason.

Now, I just had to figure out if I was here to shop... or to be watched.

Because somehow, I could feel it.

Someone, besides Kraven, was already watching me.

I stood there for a moment, motionless, trying to collect myself. The air inside the supermarket was thick with noise and movement, but I was strangely detached from it all—like my mind had stepped outside of my body for a breather. My eyes flicked upward, and that’s when I saw them.

Towering banners stretched across the mezzanine above, bold and dramatic, promoting upcoming releases from Beacon Studios and Chillz Media. Spotlights from the ceiling danced across the glossy posters—epic taglines, smoky-eyed celebrities, explosions frozen mid-frame. I’d seen these movies in boardrooms, on editing screens, and in quiet meetings full of decisions and deadlines. But this was different.

This was how the world saw them. Not from the ivory tower, but from the tiled floors of Parallel City. For the first time, I felt like the audience—the consumer. One of them. A cold shiver prickled across my arms.

I liked it.

And yet, it felt surreal. Like I didn’t belong. Like I was about to wake up from a dream... or fall deeper into it.

A few paces ahead, I finally saw it—it was for a brief second. I saw a young man with a camera on his face. The camera was pointed at me. At once, I felt a sleek, massive, humming with a kind of manufactured joy. Was this Maven? Is this the asshole turning my life upside down? Was I finally going to know who he was?

Just as I stepped toward the young man, my phone buzzed sharply in my hand. I looked down at it for a moment, then snapped my head once more to make sure I didn’t lose the man. However, just as I had expected, he was gone. Blending seamlessly with the teeming crowd.

The screen of my phone lit up with a single name that made my stomach twist—Maven. He had sent me a text.

Of course.

I tapped it open.

Things to buy:

1. Bread

2. Necklaces and watches (expensive)

3. Chocolates and wine basket

4. Throw blankets

5. Gift cards (+$10k)

I stared at the list, feeling my pulse tick upward.

"What in the actual fuck...?" I muttered.

It didn’t make any sense. The items were random—absurd, even. Bread? Okay, sure, everyone eats bread. But why pair it with luxury watches and jewelry? A wine basket next to throw blankets? Gift cards worth ten grand? Was this guy insane or something?

It was like a ransom note written by someone with a shopping addiction.

But I knew Maven. Nothing he did was without reason. Random wasn’t random with him. It was deliberate chaos: a code, a test, a trap— fucking A! Maybe it was all three.

My gaze darted around the mall.

I knew I was being watched, but did all that really have anything to do with these items on the list? Were these guys filming me going shopping? Had he wired this place up to see what I would do? Would I fail if I hesitated? Would I be punished for questioning the list?

The message had no smiley face, no explanation. Just the items. Cold and clinical.

And suddenly, it wasn’t just shopping anymore.

It was theater.

And I was the performer.

I clenched my jaw and slipped the phone back into my coat pocket. My footsteps felt heavier now as I moved through the aisles of the supermarket. Each stride echoed in my ears like a countdown.

Whatever Maven was planning... I was already in it.

And the curtain had just gone up.

He had already made his wants known. Now, doing it is what I’ll have to figure out.