Chapter 4

The call went through and was picked up on the first ring.

"Laurel Dickerson! Where are you?"

"The maid's off today, and there's laundry waiting for you. Get back here now!"

I opened my mouth, but my throat felt stuffed with cotton.

One of the kidnappers shoved me, and the phone nearly slipped from my hand.

Before I could get a word out, Keith spoke again.

"What happened to your father… that's on you…"

"There won't be a next time."

The next second, the line went dead.

I sat frozen, the phone still in my hand.

The kidnapper redialed. No one answered.

He tried again. Still nothing.

His face went darker by the second.

I sat on the ground with my head bowed, and somehow I almost wanted to laugh.

Keith didn't care whether I lived or died.

So how could he ever hand over ten million for me?

Three days later, the kidnappers ran out of patience entirely.

Slap after slap landed across my face.

It burned.

"Damn it! You said you were his fiancée. Why won't he even pick up?"

My cheek pressed against the dusty ground, and my tears ran down and soaked into the dirt.

I curled up there, shaking all over.

The kidnapper threw the phone down.

"Boss, we just dug something up. Turns out this Keith guy has a mistress. That's the one he actually wants."

"This fiancée? He couldn't care less about her!"

"Then let's just finish her off."

A knife drove into my stomach.

Blood surged out of me and soaked through my clothes.

My mind blurred bit by bit, my eyelids growing heavier.

The smell of gunpowder drifted through the air.

I lost consciousness completely.

"BOOM—"

The blast sent thick smoke rolling up.

A few days later.

Keith sat in his office, his mood souring by the minute.

"Still no word from Laurel Dickerson?"

His assistant looked a little awkward.

"Mr. Gilbert, Miss Dickerson called you several times before."

Keith's face darkened.

"She's been gone more than a week. A few calls, then nothing. Looks like she has no intention of coming back."

Brenda walked in carrying a bowl of soup, her smile gentle.

"Maybe she left for good."

"Maybe there's another man—"

Keith slammed the desk.

"She wouldn't dare!"

The words had barely left him when a wave of startled cries broke out beyond the office.

The staff were all gathered in front of the television.

Keith frowned and stepped out.

"What's going on out here?"

An employee pointed at the news on the wall-mounted TV.

"Mr. Gilbert, there's been a kidnapping in New York!"

Keith looked at the screen.

"Reports say that a week ago, a renowned New York painter surnamed Abbott was kidnapped, and a small explosion occurred at the scene…"

"The painter was killed on the spot."