After You Broke Me,I Became Untouchable

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Marian Pruitt received an unusual tip: someone had reported that her husband was holding his fiance captive at a suburban estate.

She had already slipped past the perimeter of the gated compound, crouching low in the shadow of a manicured hedge.

She pressed her fingers hard against the bridge of her nose. She had to be out of her mind.

Years on the force had taught her that bogus tips and malicious reports were a dime a dozen. Yet this one, for reasons she couldn't explain, she'd believed.

Believed it enough to sneak in here alone.

Half a day of staking the place out, and she hadn't seen a single soul.

Marian let out a dry, self-mocking half-smile. She really was losing it.

She knew exactly what kind of man Herman James was.

The man who comparison-shopped a bag of frozen ravioli, who checked three stores before buying a bottle of vinegar.

The two of them crammed into a run-down rental barely three hundred square feet, scraping by on nothing. He didn't own a single piece of clothing worth more than fifteen dollars. Dead broke.

And this neighborhood, this stretch of luxury estates where the smallest property ran north of seven million.

A lifetime of their combined earnings wouldn't come close to touching it.

Let alone holding someone's fiance prisoner.

Herman revolved around her. His phone contacts listed Wife, the delivery guy, and the building super. He never went to office get-togethers. All he wanted was to stay home with her.

A man who loved her like that. How could he possibly betray her?

Marian exhaled, shoulders loosening. She straightened up and was about to turn and leave when a woman's voice, high and petulant, drifted from the garden.

Herman James! How long are you going to keep me locked up in here? I'm suffocating!

Marian froze mid-step. She spun around.

A girl in a scarlet dress stood beneath a rose trellis, her delicate face flushed pink with fury.

Before the last syllable faded, a tall figure strolled over, unhurried.

The man wore a bespoke suit, every line cut to perfection. He carried himself with the easy authority of old money, nothing like the sloppy, penny-pinching husband she saw every day.

He crouched in front of the girl and slid cashmere slippers onto her bare feet.

Why do you never wear shoes? You'll hurt yourself.

His voice was drenched in tenderness, coaxing, like he was soothing a ruffled kitten.

The girl didn't accept the gesture. She kicked the slippers off, puffed her cheeks, and glared at him with reddened eyes.

What's the point of shoes if I can't go anywhere?

He reached up and tapped the tip of her nose, sighing.

There's a show in Milan next weekend. Armani's fall-winter couture. You've been dying to see it. I reserved front row. After the show, I'll take you down Via Montenapoleone. Buy whatever you want.

The girl's eyes lit up, then she forced her face away, pretending she was still angry.

Don't lie to me. Last time you promised to take me to that exhibition in Tokyo, and what happened? Just because I glanced at another guy, you had the whole exhibit shut down!

If you keep locking me up, I swear I'll sneak out and find my fianc

She didn't finish. Herman gripped her face, cutting the words short. His eyes went dangerous.

You're mine now. Mention him again, and you won't be walking out of bed tonight.

He swept her up and carried her, still struggling, into the depths of the villa.

In the shadow of the trees behind them, Marian's nails had driven so deep into her palms that blood seeped through.

Her whole body went cold. Her throat sealed shut like it had been filled with lead.

She couldn't believe it. This man lavishing another woman with that kind of devotion was the same man who had held her like she was precious, who had been nothing but gentle for an entire year.

She knew Herman's past.

He was never some ordinary nobody. He was the eldest son of Sterling Enterprises.

But years ago, his father had ripped out his mother's kidney to save a beloved mistress. His mother couldn't endure it. She died broken and bitter.

Herman, shattered by grief and rage, severed all ties with the James family, abandoned every cent he had, and walked away for good.

Marian stood there, stunned. Had Herman gone back to them after all?

Her mind went blank. Then, from deeper in the garden, a cluster of voices carried over, laughing and gossiping.

Herman's absolutely crazy about Sandra Fox. Think about it. Back when he hit rock bottom, she turned her back and ran. And did he hold a grudge? Not even close. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Then the Fox family collapsed, and they married her off to some nobody. The second Herman heard, he lost it. Showed up at the wedding and took her right back.

That's the thing. To give Sandra the life she deserved again, Herman swallowed every bit of hatred over his mother's death. He went back to his father, made peace, even had to bow and scrape and call the woman who killed his mother 'Mom.'

Nobody comes before Sandra in his heart. That Marian Pruitt out there could pour her whole soul into him and it still wouldn't matter. In the end, she was just a maid he picked up while he was slumming it.

The chatter barely died down before Herman walked out of the villa. There were lipstick-smeared marks on his neck, unmistakable. He'd clearly just come from someone's bed.

The group swarmed around him, all smiles and congratulations.

Congrats, Herman. You finally got the girl. Everything you wanted.

But what about that Marian Pruitt? What are you going to do with her? If she finds out you spent years playing poor, that you even staged those attacks so she'd throw herself in front of a blade for you, all of it just to get payback for Sandra, she'd probably throw herself off a roof

Herman stood at the center of the group, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling around him. His voice was flat and cold.

Then she'd deserve it.

She fabricated evidence to make a name for herself, reported the Fox family for illegal organ trafficking, and got them wiped out. My Sandra grew up sheltered. She was treated like royalty. Never suffered a day in her life. And because of that woman, she went through hell. What Marian owes Sandra, she couldn't repay in a lifetime.

He paused, as though something had crossed his mind, and flicked the ash from his cigarette with a thin, contemptuous smile.

Besides, her mother was nothing but a cheap dancer. A whore's daughter, playing cop? Fighting for justice? The thought alone is a joke.

Through the dense hedge, tears streamed down Marian's face. Every drop of blood in her body rushed to her heart and slammed against it, wave after wave of blinding pain.

No wonder.

No wonder every hired killer who came after them charged straight at her and her alone.

Herman used to tell her they were assassins sent by his father's mistress, people trying to eliminate him for good.

So every single time, she threw herself between him and the blade without a second thought.

She ran her thumb slowly across her palm. The scar was thick and rigid, left from the time she'd caught a knife bare-handed to shield him.

The knee that had been hacked through, treated with the cheapest medication because she couldn't bear the expense of anything better, had left her with permanent damage. She would never run or jump the way a normal person could again.

Her hand drifted to her lower abdomen. There had been a child once. But the hired men had carved it out of her, blade by blade.

And Herman, the whole time, had been hiding in the back of the closet. Silent from start to finish. Watching it all with cold eyes

Every last bit of it had been a lie. One elaborate, carefully constructed lie.

Marian bit down on her lip until the sharp, coppery taste of blood flooded her tongue.

Something invisible closed around her heart and squeezed, a pain so deep it nearly doubled her over.

She walked out of the estate. She took out her phone and made a call.

Captain, I'm accepting the transfer order. I'll leave Harbor City immediately.

You finally made up your mind!

Captain Dickerson's voice burst through the phone, barely containing his excitement.

I always said a criminal investigation talent like you shouldn't be wasting away at this precinct. But the division you're transferring into is special. Highly classified, completely off the books.

You need to understand what you're agreeing to. Once you sign that agreement, you cease to exist. Your name, your past, every social connection you've ever had will be erased.

I understand. Marian lowered her eyes. Her voice was flat, still as dead water.

She had turned it down before without a second thought, because she believed Herman needed her.

Now there was no reason to stay.

All right. Get your things in order. You leave in three days.

She hung up and sat curled on the curb, alone, through the entire night.

Dawn had barely begun to lighten the sky when she dragged herself, bone-tired, back to the basement apartment. Less than three hundred square feet.

The place was crumbling, damp, paint peeling off the walls in strips. No windows.

Marian stood in the narrow entryway and looked around the room. No heat, either.

She almost laughed.

As the top forensic and investigative specialist at the precinct, she could have lived comfortably. More than comfortably.

But her salary always ended up in Herman's hands, drained away under one excuse or another.

Every few days he managed to get himself into some new disaster. Scratching someone's luxury car. Injuring a pedestrian badly enough to cause permanent disability

In the end, every dollar she had saved over the years went into the bottomless pit of his debts, spent down to nothing.

She unlocked her phone. The image hit her like a blade: Herman with his arm around Sandra, walking back into the James estate together.

A glaring headline sat pinned at the top of the page.

James Heir Sets Aside Blood Feud for Love, Willingly Accepts His Mother's Killer as Stepmother!

Her fingertips were ice-cold. She opened a social media app and found Sandra's account with no effort at all.

Then she scrolled, punishing herself with every post.

Valentine's Day. Sandra beaming in front of a wall of 9,999 roses Herman had sent her.

That same day, Marian had been cornered in a filthy alley by men Herman sent, beaten until she couldn't stand.

Sandra's birthday. Herman had booked an entire private island for her. She sat at a table overflowing with delicacies, grinning as she held up a lobster the length of her arm.

That same day, Marian's freshly deposited paycheck had been siphoned off by Herman to cover yet another one of his messes. Penniless, she had gone to the farmer's market to fight with beggars over wilted vegetables no one else wanted

Her grip on the phone tightened until her knuckles went white. Tears fell, heavy and fast, shattering against the screen.

She sat there from daylight into deep night.

The lock clicked.

Herman walked in wearing the same threadbare plumber's uniform he always came home in, a different man entirely from the one in the tailored suit that morning.

He saw her still sitting on the bed. His brow creased, and he opened his mouth to speak.

Marian thrust Sandra's profile page toward him, her voice cold and level.

Stop pretending.

Caught, Herman stiffened for a fraction of a second, so brief it was almost invisible. Then his expression loosened back into easy indifference.

He glanced at Sandra's page without interest, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Look how gullible that woman is. Toss her a few scraps and she's over the moon.

When I got thrown out of the James family, she turned her back on me without blinking. Now her family's fallen apart, and it's the perfect time to settle old scores. You think I actually want her? Once I get bored, I'll kick her to the curb and let her find out what it feels like to be abandoned.

He turned toward Marian and reached out, brushing his fingers across her brow. His voice went soft, dripping with tenderness that rang hollow.

You know you're the only one I've ever loved.

Marian slapped his hand away. So that's why you went crawling back and made peace with the family? Herman, how can you face your mother? That woman had both her kidneys cut out of her, and you're calling her killer 'Mom'?

And what about me?!

She paused, then said, ice in every syllable:

I despise you.

A flash of anger crossed Herman's face.

The James empire was always mine! He kicked the stool beside him and sent it crashing across the floor, his voice climbing. I am the rightful James heir. You expect me to give up that kind of fortune and rot in this filthy, stinking basement with you forever? I am sick of living like this!

He ripped the threadbare work jacket off his body and hurled it to the ground, then jabbed a finger at Marian. Undisguised revulsion filled his eyes.

Look at you. You reek of poverty from three blocks away. You're not even fit to carry my shoes.

Marian was shaking so hard she could barely stand.

She stared at the snarling stranger in front of her and could not recognize a single thing about him.

Was this the same man who used to make her porridge, who would crouch down to tie her shoelaces, who stayed up with her through late shifts even when he could barely keep his eyes open?

Something in her expression must have registered, because Herman's tone softened again.

He gathered her onto the bed and held her, stroking her back.

When I lost everything, my friends, my uncles, even my fiance all turned their backs on me. You were the only one who stood by me. I won't forget that. Bringing Sandra back is only about revenge, nothing more. Marian, you're my wife.

Besides, I went back to the James family for our future. Think about it. Once I take the company back, you'll be Mrs. James. No more hiding in this basement. No more running from the people trying to kill you. Isn't that what you want?

Marian said nothing.

The room went dark. Beside her, he drifted off to sleep.

His arm lay across her waist like a brand fresh from the fire, burning so deep it scorched her soul.

She lay with her eyes wide open, staring at the pitch-black ceiling while cold seeped in from every direction, burrowing into the cracks between her bones.

The next day, Marian went to the precinct and finished her handover.

She let out a long breath. One more day, and she would be gone for good.

Back at the apartment, she began packing her things.

Herman's footsteps sounded behind her without warning.

Her heart lurched. She spun around.

Marian, why are you packing?

Marian forced herself to stay calm, keeping her voice flat. It's nothing

Before she could finish, Herman stormed over, his face dark with rage.

Her chest tightened. She thought he'd found out.

Instead, he seized her wrist.

Did you tell Sandra about us?

She froze, unable to process the question.

She's gone! No one can find her anywhere! Do you have any idea she's pregnant? She can't handle this kind of shock. How could you be so vicious?!

Sandra was pregnant?!

Before she could think it through, the pain clamping down on her wrist made her gasp. She shook her head.

I don't know what you're talking about! I never said a word to her!

Still lying! Go! Find her and bring her back right now! And apologize! If anything happens to Sandra or that baby, I will never forgive you!

He dragged her toward the door without giving her time to put on shoes.

Marian stumbled out of the villa and into the car as it tore off.

Herman burned through every connection he had before they finally tracked Sandra down to a seedy bar tucked in a dark corner of the city.

The lighting was low and suggestive, the air thick with liquor, perfume, and sweat.

Shadows tangled in every corner, laughter mingling with whispers.

Through layers of pulsing neon haze, Marian spotted Sandra on the stage immediately.

Barefoot, Sandra dropped to her knees in front of the pole and rose again like a cat, all sinuous provocation, drawing wild screams and sharp whistles from the crowd below.

She looked nothing like the innocent girl she usually played. Heavy makeup, a cigarette pinched between her fingers, trading easy flirtation with the men around her as if she'd done it a thousand times.

Marian could feel the fury radiating off Herman beside her. His knuckles were white, his jaw locked so tight the muscle twitched.

He couldn't hold back any longer. He charged onto the stage in long, violent strides, ignoring the uproar around him, and yanked Sandra hard into his arms. Those eyes, burning with rage, swept the room like a threat aimed at every man who dared look her way.

Sandra shoved against his chest and broke free, her expression mocking. What do you care?

Herman's face went ashen. He snatched the cigarette from her hand and crushed it, his voice a low snarlYou're carrying my child. How the hell do I not care?!

Sandra laughed, but her eyes reddened almost instantly.

A child? You have Marian Pruitt. What do you still need me for?

She clapped both hands over her face, her shoulders shaking violently, tears spilling in heavy drops.

You're with the one person I hate most in this world. I should have known. You only did this to punish me for leaving you back then. And I was stupid enough to still hope.

She wrenched out a crumpled termination report and hurled it at Herman.

You did this. You killed our baby!

Herman grabbed the report, his eyes raking over it. He staggered back half a step as though the ground had been knocked out from under him.

Marian had never seen Herman lose control like this. His eyes were raw red, and tears fell without warning.

A sound tore from his throat, strangled and barely human.

How dare youthat was my child too!

The next second, he lunged forward like a man unhinged, scooping Sandra up despite her thrashing and cursing, and carried her out. Ruthless. Absolute.

A bodyguard locked onto Marian from behind, gripping her arms and forcing her into the car after them.

They returned to the villa.

Herman turned his head. Brenda.

A woman descended from upstairs.

Brenda Marsh had been the late Mrs. James's most trusted enforcer.

Back when the old Mrs. James cleaned house, no one could count how many mistresses had their faces ruined by those hands.

Herman's gaze settled on Marian, heavy and cold.

Brenda understood at once.

She closed the distance in quick strides, seized a fistful of Marian's hair, and wrenched her toward the door. Shameless little homewrecker, showing your face here? Have you got no shame? Young as you are and already whoring yourself out as some man's side piece!

Marian's entire body seized with shock. She stared at Herman, disbelief carved into every line of her face.

He pretended not to see the plea in her eyes. He turned his head away, and that silence was answer enough.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a slap cracked across her face and snapped her head to the side.

Brenda's shrill, contemptuous voice filled her ears.

What kind of trash are you? You actually think you deserve to be Mrs. James? Take a good look in the mirror before you dream that big!

Get over here! Beat her!

The words had barely left her mouth before several heavyset women rolled up their sleeves and closed in.

Before Marian could beg for mercy, the blows came down like hail.

Her back, her stomach, her shoulders. Every hit was savage and deliberate.

The pain tore through her limbs and spread to every nerve. Marian doubled over, biting down on her lip so hard she tasted copper, choking back the scream clawing up her throat.

Her strength drained away drop by drop. Her consciousness peeled loose from her body.

When Marian came to, she was lying on the floor of an abandoned warehouse.

A wrenching cramp rolled through her lower abdomen, followed by a hollow, sinking weight. Something warm and wet seeped down her inner thighs in a steady, terrible stream.

One of the women had stomped on her stomach over and over, grinding her heel in.

Marian knew what was happening. She just watched in silence.

Her chest felt ice-cold. She curled forward slowly, pressing her fist against her breastbone as hard as she could, and the pain spread inch by suffocating inch until it filled every part of her.

Once again, she had failed to protect her child.

Voices drifted in from outside the door. The same women.

Did wego too far just now? The way she looked, I think she might have miscarried

Good riddance! Even if she'd carried it to term, it'd be nothing but a bastard. The James family would never claim it. A shameless homewrecker like her doesn't deserve to carry James blood.

Mr. James said it himself. Only Miss Fox is the rightful Mrs. James. That Marian Pruitt is just some mistress he kept on the side.

The moment their voices fell away, the sky exploded with fireworks, enormous blooms of color bursting one after another.

Two envious gasps followed.

So the rumors were true. Mr. James really is devoted to Miss Fox. Apparently he's setting off fireworks over the harbor tonight after the proposal.

No kidding. Yesterday he dropped eighty million dollars to donate a massive gold Buddha statue to a temple in Miss Fox's name. Said he wanted to build up her karma and have it blessed by thousands of worshippers.

And here we are, stuck babysitting the side piece. Just our luck.

One of them spat in Marian's direction. Disgusting.

Marian's fingers curled inward. The blood between her legs pooled wider.

The fireworks kept erupting across the sky, massive clusters trailing white-hot embers that drifted down like burning snow.

The dry straw beside the warehouse caught first, a few licking flames that leapt and spread in seconds, devouring everything around them.

Fire! It's on fire! Run!

What about her?

Forget her! If she dies, she dies. Mr. James won't blame us!

The building crumbled in on itself with a chorus of snapping wood and roaring flame. Smoke filled Marian's lungs, dragging her under, and the edges of everything went soft and dark.

Survival instinct moved her hand before her mind could. She fumbled for her phone and dialed Herman's number.

It didn't go through. She called again. And again. On the fifth try, the line connected.

What she heard on the other end shocked her fully awake.

Sandra was pinned beneath someone, her voice breathy and petulant, half moaning and half indignant.

You bastarddon't touch me!

She let out a cold laugh. I heard you had someone rough up Marian Pruitt. What new trick is this to win me over? After what her family did to mine back then, I bet you enjoyed every second of it.

I'm telling you right now, I will never bear your children. Not even if I die first.

Herman's voice was languid, thick with desire.

Why do you think I was ever with her? It was all for you. For your revenge. A piece of trash like that doesn't deserve to stand next to me. He scoffed. I had people beat her for a full year. Every time, they stopped just short of killing her. I kept her breathing so you could take your time with her later.

He paused. When he spoke again, his tone dropped, heavy with possessive displeasure. If you won't have my children, then whose will you have? If you let another man so much as touch you, I'll lock you away and I won't stop until you give me what I want.

Before she could answer, he crushed his mouth over hers. The only woman who will carry my children is you.

The warehouse was swallowed whole by fire now, the blaze climbing higher and higher, but Marian felt nothing but cold. Cold all the way through, down to the marrow.

Enough, she told herself.

Why had she ever expected anything from him?

She hung up. She curled into herself and let the flames roll over her, burning until even her soul was ash.

Panicked screams and the wail of fire trucks shattered the stillness over Victoria Harbor.

When Marian opened her eyes, she was staring at the stark white ceiling of a hospital room. Deep in her throat, the raw, scorched ache of smoke still lingered. She realized the firefighters had pulled her out.

The door to her room slammed open.

Herman strode in. His gaze swept over her lying safely in bed, only a few strands of hair singed into slight curls by the fire.

There was no concern on his face. Only the look of a man whose suspicions had been confirmed.

His lips curled into a mocking arc, and his voice came out cold.

Last night's fire. That was your little stunt, wasn't it? Playing the victim?

Marian stared at him, genuinely baffled.

The media out there is tearing Sandra apart. Dragging her name through the mud, saying she insisted on watching the fireworks and that's what caused the fire.

He let out a derisive laugh, disgust plain in his eyes.

Marian, you're as despicable as ever. Wasn't it enough, what you did to Sandra back then? You fabricated evidence to destroy the Fox family just to climb the ranks, and now you're pulling this?

All of this is just to get my attention, isn't it? Is there anything you won't stoop to?!

Marian froze mid-step as she was getting out of bed. Something glacial settled behind her eyes.

The phone call from last night echoed through her mind. She let out a low, quiet laugh and tore away the last shred of civility between them.

Me? Stage a fire? Herman, you're losing your mind.

The Fox family was trafficking human organs. The evidence was airtight. Ironclad. Do you have any idea how many organs they harvested? How many people died? And you still think they're innocent? You're nothing but a blind, heartless animal!

She looked at him, and the light in her eyes dimmed inch by inch until nothing remained but barren indifference.

And what would I gain from starting a fire? You? Sorry. I stopped loving you a long time ago.

Her total indifference hit Herman like a blade between the ribs. A nameless agitation and fury churned inside him.

He couldn't tell if it was because she'd called him an animal, or because she said she didn't love him anymore.

He seized her wrist, teeth clenched so hard the words ground out.

Good. Very good. Still talking back.

Today I'm giving Sandra the grandest wedding she deserves, and you will be there. You'll apologize to her. You'll be her bridesmaid.

Without waiting for a response, he hauled her out of the hospital and dragged her, half-healed and stumbling, to the wedding venue.

His assistant came running up, face white with panic.

Sir, Miss Fox has been taken hostage. Someone has a knife to her throat.

Up on the wedding stage, Sandra stood in her bridal gown with a blade pressed against her neck by a one-eyed man.

The man was Sandra's former fianc.

His single remaining eye burned with hatred.

Herman James! You stole my woman, bankrupted me, and took my eye! Did you ever think this day would come?!

I'm here to take back everything that belongs to me!

Herman's expression was ice. A cold smile cut across his faceYou want money? Fine.

Without flinching, he ordered his assistant to tally every asset under his name.

The Hillside mansion, commercial properties across Harbor City, core holdings of the company. He kept raising the offer, and finally threw in half the shares of Sterling Enterprises itself, essentially handing over control of the entire empire.

Vincent Hale didn't budge.

Sandra broke down in tears. Stop! Herman, stop!

She choked outForget about me! Let me pay for what we've done! Getting to be your bride for even one day was enough

Vincent threw his head back in a wild, unhinged laugh. This filthy whore actually fell in love with you?!

The blade dug deeper into Sandra's neck. Beads of blood welled up and slid down her skin.

Herman's face went white. He closed his eyes.

Fine. Then I'll give you a woman in return.

He raised his hand and pointed at Marian, who had been standing silently in the corner the entire time.

My woman for yours. Is that enough?

Vincent's single eye locked onto Marian, and a gleam of hunger lit up in it. He ran his tongue over his lips.

You sure you can part with her, Mr. James?

Herman shoved Marian forward. Not a second of hesitation.

She's nobody.

Vincent released Sandra without a fuss.

Deal.

Vincent wrenched Marian toward the car. She twisted around to look at Herman, disbelief etched across her face.

All she saw was him rushing forward, pulling Sandra into his arms, pressing his lips to her cheeks to kiss away her tears.

Let go of me! Herman James! How could you do this to me!

Marian fought with everything she had, but she was no match for Vincent's brute strength.

Her struggling earned her a savage backhand across the face.

Shut the hell up, or I'll have my way with you right here in this car!

In that instant, Marian went perfectly still. Her mind cleared like a switch had been thrown. She watched the scenery outside the window without a word, measuring every detail.

When the car wound along a cliffside road, she found her opening. She threw the door wide and hurled herself out, rolling down the slope and vanishing into the dense brush below.

Vincent cursed and searched for her, raging and swearing, combing the hillside until darkness swallowed the landscape. Finally, he gave up and drove away.

Marian stayed curled in the underbrush. When the night turned pitch black, she felt her way down the mountain road.

She flagged down a passing car, went straight to the airport, and boarded a red-eye flight out of Harbor City.

The plane climbed slowly into the sky. She gazed through the window at the neon glow of Harbor City shrinking below, reached up to smooth her tangled hair. Filthy and battered as she was, a smile finally broke across her face. A real one.

She was finally stepping into a new life.

Herman rushed Sandra to the hospital. She had fainted from shock, and the medical staff swarmed around her the moment they arrived.

But Herman's mind wasn't on Sandra. Not even close. A nameless agitation clawed at him, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it, the same image kept replaying behind his eyes: the look on Marian's face as that one-eyed man dragged her into the car. The last look she'd given him before the door slammed shut.

Cold. Hopeless. And a stillness so vast it swallowed everything

His chest seized without warning, as though an invisible fist had closed around his heart and was squeezing the air from his lungs.

Get the car.

Herman wrenched his tie loose, gasping for breath.

Send everyone. Every last person we have. Turn all of Harbor City upside down if you have to, but find Marian Pruitt and bring her back to me!

His assistant flinched and scrambled to respond.

Yes, Mr. James. I'll arrange it right away!

He stole a glance at Herman before hurrying out.

In all the years he'd worked for the man, he had never seen Herman James lose his composure like this. Not even when Sandra was held at knifepoint had the man looked so unraveled.

Herman stood by the window, his fingertips pressed white against the sill.

He told himself he simply didn't want Marian to die so easily. She owed him. She owed Sandra. Those debts hadn't been paid.

But the dread rising in his chest, thick and suffocating, wasn't something logic could explain away.

Hours crawled past. The sky turned black.

His assistant burst through the door, face drained of color, voice shaking.

Mr.Mr. Jameswe found itthe vehicle. Only the vehicle!

Herman spun around. His eyes were bloodshot.

Where is she?!

Inin an abandoned warehouse at the bottom of the cliff

Herman didn't stop for his coat. He was out the door before the sentence ended.

The car screamed up the mountain road, tires shrieking around every bend.

The warehouse was a wreck. Vincent lay crumpled on the floor in the middle of it, beaten to a pulp, barely breathing, ringed by bodyguards.

Herman kicked the door open and swept the room with his gaze. No sign of Marian anywhere.

The violence rolling off him thickened.

Where is she?!

Vincent lifted his head, slow and deliberate. He split his bloody mouth into a grin, his one good eye glinting with malice.

Why does the young Master James still care about that woman?

He coughed up a mouthful of blood, and his grin turned vicious.

She really was something, though. Your woman. Finest piece I've ever had in my life.

I asked you where she is!

Herman seized him by the collar and hauled him up, fist cocked back, trembling. One swing and the man's skull would cave in.

Vincent wheezed under the chokehold, but the deranged laughter wouldn't stop.

Ha ha ha Haha! Deadshe's been dead for hours!

Ungrateful little thing tried to fight back, so I put her down right then and there! The body? Dumped it in the ocean. By nowthere probably isn't even bone left!

You're lying!

Herman's vision flooded red. His fist connected with Vincent's face full force, the impact flipping the man across the concrete.

She's not dead! She can't be dead!

The words tore out of him raw.

But his heart felt like it was being ripped in two with bare hands, blood rushing through the wound, and the pain drove tremors through every muscle in his body.

She hadn't finished paying for what she'd done. How dare she die.

How dare she just die like that.

Vincent lay facedown on the ground, coughing blood, twisting the knife on purpose.

Why would I lie? Didn't you say she meant nothing to you? That she was nobody? So what's with the heartbroken act now?

Right before she died, she was still calling your name. Too bad you were busy holding your precious little beauty. Couldn't hear a thing. Ha ha ha Haha!

Every word landed like a poisoned blade, buried to the hilt in Herman's chest.

Herman staggered back a step, slammed his palm against the wall to keep from falling, and tasted copper rising in his throat. A mouthful of blood spilled past his lips.

His assistant went white and rushed forward to steady him.

Mr. James! Are you all right?!

Search

Herman's voice was wrecked, barely a rasp.

Search everywheretear apart every inch of this city if you have to. I want her found. Alive or dead, I need proof!

He refused to believe it.

He refused to believe that Marian Pruitt was gone.