NATHAN JANG
Fiona's laugh was a razor slicing down my spine. "What's wrong, husband?"
"Don't call me that." I put on my shirt and started buttoning it. "You drugged me."
She sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement and malice. "So what? You still have to take responsibility for me."
"I have a fiancée." The words came out hoarse, my throat dry. It felt like I'd been chewing on cotton balls.
Her hand shot out, nails digging into my wrist hard enough to leave crescents. "After everything I've done for you?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "After everything you've done to me?"
The guilt hit like a sucker punch. This was my fault. If I hadn't come running when Fiona crooked her little finger, she wouldn't have had a chance to drug me. In the last two months, from the day she arrived, I'd chosen Fiona over Vanessa.
I should have seen it sooner—but I was too wrapped up in Fiona's chaos, her endless storms of drama that demanded attention. Vanessa never asked me for help. She handled her own problems, alone, without support. Standing in the wreckage of her trust, I wondered how many times she had swallowed her pain while I rushed to soothe someone else's.
"I'll transfer money to you. Book your travel to France. After today, you and I are done."
Her smile turned feral. "You think this is about money?" She reached under her pillow and my blood turned to ice—but it was just her phone. The screen lit up with a photo that stopped my heart:
Me. Passed out on her bed, my shirt unbuttoned, her hand on my chest.
And just like that, I understood.
This wasn't Fiona's desperate gambit for my love.
It was a well-laid trap. Maybe she wanted my heart. But now I realized she wanted something more. My name. My wealth. I was her stepping stone to returning to her former glory.
"This might be enough to cancel that marriage contract," she purred. She patted her belly. "You might've given me a baby, too. Shouldn't you be happy?"
The walls closed in. My pulse roared in my ears. "What did you do, Fiona?"
"I told Vanessa the truth. You want me, not her."
"That's not the truth!"
Strength wasn't the same as invincibility. I had always prided myself on being resilient, on weathering storms without breaking—but now, I felt like shattering.
Vanessa needed me, loved me, trusted me to be her shelter when the world turned cruel, and I had failed her. The memory of her voice, trembling with hurt, played in my mind on an endless loop. I should have been there. I should have seen the cracks before they became chasms. Instead, I had been blind, too wrapped up in Fiona's struggles to notice hers.
Here was a crushing realization: Some mistakes could never be undone. Couldn't be apologized for. Couldn't erase pain. Regret coiled around me like a serpent, its grip tightening with every what if that flickered through my thoughts.
Despite the shame gnawing at me, I forced myself to face what I had done. Would Vanessa understand? Would she forgive? Would she hate me?
My phone rang.
Malone's name appeared on the screen, and I answered the call. My assistant's voice sliced through the static in my head, but not the ache in my heart. "Madame has been in an accident with Carver Haynes. He made it out of the wreckage, but..."
"But what?"
"Madame has been kidnapped."
The world fractured.
Fiona was saying something, her fingers tightening on my arm, but her all I heard was the echo of Malone's voice, threading through my aching skull.
The memory of Vanessa in the hospital bed, her skin too pale except for the feverish flush high on her cheeks.
And I left her.
The truth was simple and ugly: I had chosen to walk away. And while I'd been gone, trapped in a situation of my own bad decisions, she had left the hospital and disappeared.
Worse than that, she'd been in a car wreck with Carver. Carver who picked her up to take her home. Carver who seemed to be there for her when I wasn't.
We weren't in love, I told myself. We were a contract marriage.
And it didn't matter. Because we could have something real if I would stop running away from her and toward Fiona. Fiona, a woman so selfish and cruel she was willing to drug me just to get what she wanted.
Now I didn't know what had happened to the woman I'd promised to wed ... and I wanted her back.
But ... where was she?
And was she still alive?
***|***|***|***|***
VANESSA BELMONT
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the copper taste of blood.
It coated my tongue, metallic and thick, and I spat the yuck onto the concrete floor. My cheek throbbed where the masked bastard had hit me, and my wrists hurt from the zip-ties cutting into my skin.
Shit. Trapped in the same room with the same flickering bulb, the same damp stench of mildew and rust. The air was heavy, suffocating, pressing against my lungs. Every breath tasted of iron and fear.
Footsteps echoed somewhere beyond the door, slow and deliberate, sending a fresh wave of dread through me. I clenched my jaw, which hurt a lot, and tried to push away the rising panic.
None of these things had happened in my previous life. Not hospital visit. Not the car accident with Carver. Definitely not this kidnapping.
I remember the Eastern Sun land deal, though. Ash City procured the acreage to create a cemetery. Not only did the land itself lose the interest of other players, so did the surrounding acres. No one wanted to build living quarters or entertainment venues near a memorial to the dead.
But obviously, the kidnappers didn't know this information or they wouldn't try to use me against Nathan to get it. It's not like the Jangs and Belmonts didn't have their share of enemies. Figuring out the culprit might be easier said than done.
The cold seeped deeper into my bones, and I wondered if I'd ever see daylight again. I flexed my fingers, testing the restraints. The plastic dug deeper with every movement, but I ignored the pain. Pain was temporary.
Death?
Not so much.