Chapter 2

Ellery left the penthouse without a backward glance. The life she had lived there was already a ghost, and she felt no attachment to it. Her departure was clean, surgical. She had already instructed her colleague, Sarah, to process her resignation as standard.

"Just follow the procedure, Sarah. He' s already approved it."

Dawson, consumed by Kenzie' s return, didn' t set foot in the office for a week. He was a man possessed, his world shrinking to a single point of focus: the girl he had idealized for over a decade.

Meanwhile, Ellery was a whirlwind of quiet efficiency. She spent her days at government offices and consulates, methodically arranging for her new life. A new passport, visas, a one-way ticket to a country where no one knew her name. She emptied her bank accounts, leaving only the funds the Parks family had initially provided for her mother' s care, which she had never touched. It was blood money, and she wanted none of it.

She packed her few belongings from the small apartment the Parks family had maintained for her, a place she rarely used but kept as a symbol of a life that was technically hers. Clothes, books, the photo of her mother. Everything else, every gift Dawson had ever given her, she left behind. They were trinkets from her jailer, and she felt no sentimentality.

As she was taping up the last box, her new burner phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.

I know who you are. He' s mine now. Stay away from him, you hired whore.

A cold knot formed in Ellery' s stomach. She knew exactly who it was from.

The phone rang almost immediately. It was Dawson.

"El! Come downstairs. I' m outside."

His voice was bright, oblivious. He sounded happy.

She walked to the window and looked down. His sleek, black sports car was parked at the curb. He was leaning against it, a vision of casual wealth and privilege. For a moment, she saw the thirteen-year-old boy she had first met, lost and angry and desperately needy. The image faded, replaced by the man who had used her for twelve years.

She went downstairs.

He didn' t take her to her favorite restaurant or a quiet park. He drove to a high-end jewelry store, the kind with security guards and velvet ropes.

"I need your help," he said, his eyes gleaming. "You have good taste. Help me pick something for Kenzie."

The request was so breathtakingly callous that Ellery could only feel a distant, clinical numbness. He was asking his long-term mistress to help him select a gift for the woman he intended to marry.

"Of course," she said, her voice perfectly even.

Inside, he was like a child in a candy store. He pointed to a diamond necklace, a sapphire bracelet, a pair of emerald earrings. The price tags had more zeros than she could count.

"What do you think? She likes green, right? You remember."

Ellery felt a strange, detached pity for him. He was buying affection, just as his family had bought her.

"The necklace is more classic," she advised, her tone professional. "It' s timeless."

He beamed, taking her advice without question. As the sales associate gift-wrapped the box, Dawson turned to her, his expression serious.

"We' re official now," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Kenzie and me."

"I' m happy for you, Dawson."

"She' s perfect, El. So pure. Not like... other girls." He gushed, his words a stream of consciousness. "She' s been through so much. Her family lost their money, she had to work her way through college... She' s so innocent."

Ellery thought of the text message burning a hole in her pocket. Hired whore. Pure and innocent was not how she would describe the author of those words. She knew Kenzie' s type. The kind of woman who wore a sweet smile like a weapon.

"Dawson," she began, a flicker of old habit compelling her to warn him. "People aren't always what they seem."

His smile vanished. His eyes turned cold and hard.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing. Just be careful."

"Don' t you dare talk badly about her," he hissed, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. The air crackled with his sudden anger. "You have no right."

The familiar pressure of his possessiveness settled over her, a weight she had carried for years. She was his property, and she had just spoken out of turn.

She looked down. "I' m sorry. You' re right."

The tension immediately dissipated. He was placated. He was in control again.

"I need you to do something else for me," he said, his tone back to normal. "Kenzie mentioned wanting a vintage music box. The kind they made in Switzerland in the 19th century. Find one for me. The best one. Money is no object."

"Of course," she said, her voice a monotone. "Does she have a preference for the tune?"

He looked at her, a strange expression on his face. "You' re not even a little jealous, are you?"

I was never in love with you, she thought. I hated every second of this. I was counting the days until I could be free of you.

She forced a small, tired smile. "I just want you to be happy, Dawson."

His phone rang, a shrill, panicked sound. He answered it, his face instantly transforming.

"Kenzie? What' s wrong? Slow down."

Ellery could hear the frantic, tearful voice on the other end.

"I' m scared! They grabbed me... I' m on a roof... I don' t know where I am!"

Dawson' s face went white. "Stay on the phone. I' m tracking you. I' m coming."

He slammed the car into gear, yanking the wheel so hard that Ellery was thrown against the passenger door. Her head hit the window with a sickening crack. Pain exploded behind her eyes, and she felt something warm and wet trickle down her temple.

Dawson didn't notice. His eyes were glued to the GPS on his dashboard, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He was a man possessed, his only reality the terrified voice on the phone.

He sped through the city, a blur of traffic lights and blaring horns. The car screeched to a halt in the parking garage of a luxury hotel. He was out social media, running toward the elevators, before Ellery could even unbuckle her seatbelt.

"Stay here!" he yelled, but she was already following, her head throbbing.

They burst onto the rooftop. A man, burly and thuggish, was holding a terrified Kenzie near the ledge. But something was wrong. The man' s face was familiar. He was the son of a contractor her father had driven out of business years ago, a man who blamed the Evans and by extension, the Parks, for his family' s ruin.

Dawson saw him and froze, a flicker of confusion on his face. Then, a slow, cold smile spread across his lips. He understood. This wasn't a random kidnapping. It was a message. And he knew how to handle it.

He stepped forward, his voice dripping with contempt.

"You want money? Is that it? Pathetic."

Then he did something that made Ellery' s blood run cold. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"You want to hurt me?" Dawson said, his voice loud enough for the man to hear. He gestured to Ellery. "This is my girlfriend. The woman I love."

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a venomous whisper only she could hear.

"Play along. Walk away with me. Now."

He started to back away, pulling her with him, his eyes fixed on the attacker. Ellery saw the calculation in his gaze. He was creating a diversion. He was presenting a target.

He was going to sacrifice her.

He was going to trade her life for Kenzie' s, without a moment' s hesitation.