Chapter 3

Early the next morning, my father's voice held a panic and dread I'd never heard from him before.

"Madge, we're in trouble! Every one of the company's partners tore up their contracts overnight. The banks pulled our loans out of nowhere. Our cash flow is gone!"

My hands and feet went cold.

Before I could even surface from the shock of it, the doorbell rang.

Through the peephole, I saw Eustace Cobb standing outside in a full suit, two bodyguards behind him carrying large cases.

He seemed to know I was watching. Facing the peephole, he gave a gentle smile.

I didn't open the door, so he simply waited outside, patient.

Until my parents came out at the sound and opened it.

Eustace walked in as if nothing had happened, greeting my parents politely.

Then he had the bodyguards open the two cases.

One was stacked with neatly arranged cash. The other held a thick pile of rescue contracts.

He pushed the contracts across the coffee table, but his eyes went past my father and landed on me.

"Sir, ma'am, don't worry. As long as Madge stops throwing her tantrum, all these partnerships can be restored anytime."

His tone was light, offhand.

"This is just a little lesson for Madge. So she understands what a tantrum costs."

My father shook with rage.

He jabbed a finger at Eustace and swore at him. "You animal! What did you do to my daughter? And you dare come threaten my family? Get out! Get out of my house!"

Eustace's gaze stayed fixed on me, deaf to my father's cursing.

He even wore that doting smile, asking me gently,

"Madge, look. Over something this small, your father here has worked himself sick, and he might go bankrupt too. Doesn't it break your heart?"

He came toward me, reaching for my hand.

The blood in my whole body roared up to the top of my head.

I grabbed the glass off the coffee table and threw it at his forehead with everything I had.

The glass shattered on impact. Blood snaked down from his temple and dripped onto his expensive white shirt, blooming into a garish red flower.

He finally stopped.

My parents were both stunned.

I thought he'd fly into a rage, that he'd lose his mind.

But he only wiped the blood from his temple with his fingertip, unbothered.

He looked at me, that same gentleness still in his eyes.

"It's all right. I know you're upset."

"I'll wait for you to calm down."

"Our wedding goes ahead on schedule."

After he left, the house fell into dead silence.

I stared out the window at the black Bentley parked below around the clock, and cold washed over me in waves.

Over the next few days, all my deliveries were intercepted. When my parents tried to take me out, his bodyguards would politely stop us.

He even had someone cut our home internet line, forcing it under the excuse of "line maintenance."

I didn't sit there waiting to die.

I dug out everything I could find about the state broadcaster's reporter exam and threw myself into studying for it.

On the third night, through the window, I saw the Bentley's window roll down.

Eustace sat inside, looking up at my window.

The streetlight fell across his face, and he gave me a smiling look.

In that instant, a chill shot up from the soles of my feet straight to the crown of my head.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

A picture message from an unknown number.

I opened it.

It was a video.

In it, my father was being backed step by step to the edge of a staircase in an abandoned building by two burly men.