Chapter 2

2.

Alistair’s hands froze, and his voice was strained.

“I’m sorry, Elara. Things have been so crazy with the merger on Wall Street, I forgot your cycle. Let’s get back in the car, I’ve already turned on the seat warmers!”

Elara followed him silently back to the black sedan, letting him wrap her in a blanket and hand her a heat pack.

He used to remember her cycle better than she did, even having the housekeeper prepare ginger tea in advance. But in just a few short months, everything had changed.

The citrus scent filled the car, and she couldn't help but think of the picture she had received a while ago.

The other woman was sprawled across the leather seat in see-through lace lingerie, her eyes hazy. Beside her, Alistair held a bloody condom, a smug, predatory grin on his face.

…

The driver stopped in front of a high-end jewelry store on Fifth Avenue, but Alistair didn’t move.

Elara turned her head and caught the slight smile on his lips as a message from a cute cat avatar popped up on his phone.

Noticing her gaze, he quickly locked his phone, reached over to stroke her hair, and handed her the black Amex Centurion Card. “Babe, something urgent came up at the office. You go on in, our personal designer is already waiting. I’ll be back to get you as soon as I’m done.”

Elara got out of the car without a word.

Before she could even steady herself, Alistair signaled the driver to close the door. The black behemoth vanished into the Manhattan traffic in less than three seconds.

The store manager greeted her warmly. “Miss Vance, Mr. Thorne has had our chief designer prepare thirty-four custom sketches for you. Please, take your time!”

Elara looked away from the street and shook her head at the manager. “There’s no need. Just give me any ring you have in stock.”

After all, she was going to “die” at her own wedding. A dead bride didn’t need a ring.

…

Ignoring Alistair’s instructions to wait for him, Elara picked a random diamond ring and took a cab back to their penthouse on the Upper East Side.

The first thing she did when she got home was brew a strong espresso. She hadn’t slept properly in over ten days, relying on caffeine to stay awake.

Her phone buzzed with a notification. The espresso cup trembled in her hand.

The hot liquid spilled all over her cardigan, but she didn’t feel it, her eyes glued to the screen.

That woman, Bronwyn, had texted her again. This time, it was a video.

The video was dark, showing two entangled bodies, but the dialogue was sickeningly clear.

Bronwyn moaned, her voice breathy. “Alistair… is my body better… or is that old hag’s body better?”

A familiar, husky voice replied, “You’re so much hotter.”

Then, a hand with well-defined knuckles squeezed the woman’s waist, drawing out a lustful groan…

On that hand was the sapphire family signet ring Elara had designed for him herself.

Elara’s whole body trembled. It took all her strength to turn off the screen.

She forced herself to focus on something else, opening her tablet to review the fake death script and new identity documents provided by the “Disappearance Protocol.” She sat there from dawn until the city lights came on, without a single message from Alistair. Just as she was about to turn off the lights, her phone buzzed again.

She looked down. It was another series of photos from Bronwyn.

The first was a picture of Alistair’s sleeping face. The next few were all selfies of Bronwyn.

The young girl

s neck, chest, thighs, and even the area around her most private parts, were covered in angry red hickeys.

【Alistair said he had to mark me up all over, or he wouldn’t let me leave…】

【Elara, is he that possessive with you, too?】

Elara’s expression was strangely calm.

For the next seven hours, she sat in the living room like a statue.

She just stared at her phone screen until the Manhattan skyline began to pale.

When Alistair walked in, he found Elara curled up on the sofa, her eyes bloodshot, her hands clutching her phone, trembling slightly.

He froze, then rushed to her side, wrapping her in his arms. “Elara, why are your eyes so red? Have you been crying?”

Elara turned off her phone and wiped her eyes.

Looking at Alistair’s slightly disheveled shirt collar, she forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s nothing. I just had a nightmare.”