Page 35

Chapter 35

Piers

T he morning begins like any other as I make my way downstairs. The usual quiet hum of the house, the scent of fresh tea brewing, and the soft shuffle of my housekeeper, Mrs. Garrow’s steps in the kitchen- everything in its place, a perfect start to the day.

“Good mornin’, Mr. Warwick,” she greets me, turning with a smile, her broad Scottish accent as thick as ever. Though her eyes hold a hint of concern.

“I’ve got somethin' for ye.” She steps over, handing me a plain envelope, its surface unmarked, no return address or postmark, except for my name scrawled in hurried, jagged handwriting.

I take it from her without a word, my brow furrowing as I slide my finger under the flap to tear it open.

Inside, there’s nothing but a single thumb drive, tucked into the paper like it’s some sort of secret. My mind races as I glance up at Mrs. Garrow.

“Did you see who dropped this off?”

She shakes her head, lips pressed in a thin line. “Nae, sir. It came early this mornin’. I thought ye should have it right away.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Garrow,” I say, my voice clipped. She nods and retreats to the kitchen, leaving me alone with the envelope and the growing sense of dread in my chest.

I move to my study, the thumb drive clenched tightly in my hand. My laptop is already open on the desk, and I insert the drive and run a scan before opening anything. The seconds drag as I wait, tension coiling in my gut. Then, just as the scan completes, the screen flickers, and a video file appears. I click it, my pulse quickening as the footage begins to play.

The first thing I see is her.

Fantasia.

My breath catches in my throat. She’s bound, her wrists tied above her head to a rusted chain, her face pale and streaked with tears. Her eyes are closed, her head bowed as if she’s trying to shut out the world. My chest tightens, a sharp, visceral pain cutting through me. I haven’t seen her in years, and this- this is not how I ever imagined our reunion.

The camera pans, and Harold Ashwood steps into view. His face is smug, his eyes gleaming with malice as he addresses the camera. My hands clench into fists as he begins to speak, delivering his chilling threat.

“I’ve got something of yours. Your wife, Piers,” he says, his voice dripping with malice. “Seems like you’ve got a lot more to lose than I thought. Might’ve been smarter to keep that quiet…”

My mind races, a mix of shock and horror coursing through me. Fantasia, my wife- a declaration I never thought would see the light of day, now used as a weapon against me. I protected her once, but now she’s paying the price for my choice. I let the world believe she was mine, that she was safe with me. And now she’s being held captive, her life on the line because of that false claim.

I can’t look away, even as bile rises in my throat. Harold continues, his demands clear and ruthless. He wants money- a massive payout- or he’ll kill her. My jaw tightens, my mind racing. I’ll give him whatever he wants. I’ll empty every account, sell every asset. I don’t care. I can’t lose her again.

But then his next words surprise me.

“And if you don’t comply,” Harold adds, his voice chillingly calm, “I’ll kill your daughter too.”

My blood runs cold. My daughter? What the hell is he talking about? My mind reels, struggling to process his words. Fantasia and I never had a child. It didn’t happen. She was never…

The video ends, leaving me in stunned silence. The room spins around me as the weight of Harold's demands settles in.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. We’d been looking for her- hell, I’d been looking for her- for months, but somehow Harold found her first. It doesn’t make sense. How the hell did he get to her before I did?

I’m still frozen, staring at the screen, numb and disbelieving. Just as I’m about to replay the footage for the tenth time, my phone buzzes. I know it’s Achilles before I even look, and the last thing I want to do is pick up, but my fingers move on their own. When I finally swipe to answer, my voice comes out rough, tight with emotions I can’t quite hide.

“Piers,” Achilles’s voice comes through, sharp with urgency. “You need to see this.”

“I saw it,” I reply, still staring at the screen, my blood boiling. My grip tightens on the phone, my teeth grinding together.

Achilles curses under his breath, and the sound scrapes against my nerves. “I gave you that lead- weeks ago. I handed it to you, and you-”

“Don’t.” My voice is sharp, harsher than I intended, but Achilles doesn’t stop.

“That was her trail. And you- ”

“I know what I did!” The words explode out of me, hot and bitter. My fist slams against the desk, rattling the laptop. “You think I don’t know that?”

Silence crackles on the line, heavy and suffocating.

I drag a hand down my face, my skin burning. “I thought…” My voice falters. “I thought if I just stayed out of it, if I let her be... she'd be safer. That if she wanted to stay hidden, she had her reasons.”

“Safe?” Achilles’s voice drops low, incredulous. “You really believed that?”

“I didn’t know what else to believe.” My attention lingers on the screen- on Fantasia’s bowed head, the defeated slope of her shoulders. A silent accusation pulses through me: You should’ve gone after her.

“You were scared,” Achilles says, quieter now. “Scared she'd tell you to leave her alone. Or worse- that she was better off without you.”

I swallow hard because that’s exactly what I’d been afraid of.

“Well, you’ve got your answer now,” Achilles continues bitterly. “And thanks to us dragging our feet, she’s in Ashwood’s hands.”

His words hit like a punch to the gut. He’s right. I had my chance. Weeks ago, I held that slip of paper with her last known location in my hand — and I did nothing . I let it sit on my desk, untouched, while I convinced myself that chasing her down would only push her further away.

Now she’s tied to a rusted chain in some godforsaken room, terrified and alone.

“You think she’s still there?” I ask, my voice quieter now.

“She has to be,” Achilles says grimly. “Ashwood wouldn’t risk moving her before we’ve paid.”

“Then we have a shot,” I say, standing abruptly. Energy surges through me- raw, desperate energy that demands action. “We can fix this. We can get her back.”

Achilles exhales, a heavy breath that sounds a lot like relief. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, we will.”

But just before he hangs up, his voice tightens again. “One more thing... what the hell did Harold mean by your daughter ?”