Chapter 5

Audrey Wallace POV:

"Hang her," Jake ordered, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Let her rot there. Let everyone see what happens to a monster who harms a child." His voice was a low growl, a venomous whisper that reached my stitched ears.

My body, already a canvas of burns and bruises, was lifted roughly. The pain was an all-consuming fire, but my mind was numb. I felt the rough rope bite into my ankles. Then, the sickening drop, and the world tilted. I was suspended upside down in the main lobby of my own wellness retreat, a macabre spectacle for a public who now viewed me as a vile criminal.

Jake stared at my dangling form, a cold, satisfied sneer on his face. "Let her suffer. She brought this upon herself." He turned and walked away, Jada clinging to his arm, her victorious smile plastered on her face.

The world blurred. Pain. So much pain. Then, a shadow fell over me. A tall, imposing figure. He didn't say anything, but I felt a warmth, a gentle pressure against my cheek. I tried to focus, to open my stitched eyes, but it was impossible.

"Audrey," a familiar voice whispered, thick with anguish. "My little dove." The voice was raw, choked with emotion. "I swear to God, the people who did this to you will pay. Every last one of them."

Three days later:

Jake Foster POV:

He sat in his office, the lavish space feeling cold and hollow. Jada was still at the retreat, milking the sympathy of her followers, but he couldn't focus on her. Audrey. He had ordered his men to bring her home. Let her stew in her misery, then bring her back to her cage.

His phone rang. It was his head of security. "Sir, we found it. That place you mentioned. The one from your dream."

Jake's heart hammered against his ribs. "What about it?" he demanded, his voice tight.

"It's a small villa on the coast of Italy, sir. And... you lived there. Five years ago. With a woman. The locals remember you both clearly. They said you were madly in love. They called her... Audrey."

The phone slipped from Jake's suddenly numb fingers, clattering to the polished floor. The sound echoed in the sudden silence. His mind reeled. Audrey? Madly in love? It was impossible. He hated her. He despised her.

He grabbed his security chief by the lapels, his eyes wild. "What are you talking about?! Are you insane?! Audrey? My wife? That scheming, conniving woman?"

The chief, a burly man who rarely flinched, looked uncomfortable. "Sir, we brought photos. Documents. Marriage certificates from Italy. You married her there, before the car accident." He handed Jake a thick envelope.

Jake tore it open with trembling hands. His breath hitched. Photos. Hundreds of them. A young man, his arm wrapped around a beautiful woman with a radiant smile. Laughing, kissing, their eyes full of an undeniable love. It was him. And it was Audrey. The Audrey he had just punished so brutally.

A searing pain erupted in his head, a blinding, throbbing agony that threatened to split his skull. Memories, fragmented and blinding, slammed into him. The scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, the way she used to laugh, her eyes sparkling like the ocean.

He crumpled to the floor, clutching his head, a guttural cry tearing from his throat. The villa. The beach. The little dove. It was all real. It was her.

"Audrey!" he gasped, his voice raw. "Get her back! Now! Bring her home!"

His chief hesitated. "Sir... we went to retrieve her from the retreat. But she's gone. She disappeared two days ago. No one knows where."

The world tilted. The air was sucked from his lungs. Gone. Audrey was gone. He stumbled to his feet, his legs like jelly, and ran. He burst out of his office, down the opulent stairs, out the front door. He ran through the manicured gardens, past the gates, onto the street. He didn't care about his discarded shoes, the curious stares of passersby. He just ran.

He ran to the retreat, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. The place was still swarming with reporters, with angry crowds chanting Audrey's name, calling her a monster. "Child abuser! Lock her up!" they screamed. He pushed through them, a man possessed, ignoring their curses and shoves.

He burst into the pristine lobby. Empty. The ropes were gone. The metal contraption he had strung her up on was gone. No sign of Audrey. No sign of the life he had just shattered.

A sharp, searing pain tore through his chest, a physical agony that mirrored the torment in his mind. He remembered her words, her final, defiant scream: "From now on, you and I are nothing but strangers." He had dismissed it then, another pathetic attempt to manipulate him. But she had meant it.

He had always prided himself on his control, his cold logic. He had convinced himself that his occasional flashes of concern for Audrey were just misplaced patriarchal protectiveness. He had told himself he didn't care for her, not really. He had tried to bury the confusing pull he felt towards her under layers of cruelty and indifference. But now, the dam had burst. He loved her. He had always loved her. And he had destroyed her.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers shaking, frantically calling every contact, every agency, every private investigator he knew. "Find Audrey Wallace! I don't care what it costs!"

Hours later, his search yielded nothing. No trace. No leads. Just the crushing weight of his guilt.

His phone rang again. It was Jada. "Jakey? Where are you? The kids are crying. You need to come home and comfort them." Her voice was whiny, demanding.

He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Audrey won't go far, he told himself, a desperate attempt at self-comfort. She's tied to this place. She'll come back. He ordered his security team to continue the search, then turned and headed back to his car. He had to deal with Jada. And the children.

He walked into the mansion, the sounds of Jada's incessant complaints filling the air. "Your children are impossible, Jakey! They're so wild! They keep throwing things and making messes!"

Wild. The memory hit him like a physical blow. The children. His children. The acid. He remembered seeing Audrey's burns, the raw skin, the agonizing pain in her eyes. He had yelled at the children, furiously, for their prank. He had even tried to examine Audrey's wounds, a strange, undeniable urge to soothe her. But then Jada had called, spinning a tale of Audrey's "malicious delight" in their childish mischief, and he had pushed the concern away, convinced it was just another one of Audrey's manipulative ploys.

He looked at his children now, their innocent faces smiling up at him. His heart, still raw from the returning memories, clenched. He forced a smile, stooping to pick up his son. His face, moments ago etched with grief and panic, softened into a mask of paternal affection.

He didn't notice the faint glow of Jada' s phone, resting on the coffee table. A single unread text message, partially obscured by a magazine. The employee secured. Audrey will be ruined. Mission accomplished.