He never kissed me good morning, nor did I see him again.

Days later, and I have no fucking clue where to start my revenge. All I do is sit by the window for hours to calculate how long it’ll take Zeath to return home.

No matter how many texts and calls I bombard him with, he doesn’t reply. It’s like I’ve become a ghost to him.

And sometimes, I wonder how I let myself be fooled. How did I not put two and two together?

Or I’ve just been paying no attention.

Back in high school, I liked Zeath.

I had this huge crush on him—that was years ago. He always had Yolie in his arms, but I just didn’t mind her, especially since bitching ran in her blood.

I wore my pride like a coat and pretended not to see Zeath, ignoring him whenever we met instead of gaping at him.

I may even be the only one who never gave him the satisfaction of being an idol, as he was that senior every girl wanted to date.

A little over three years ago, I saw my dream come true when he started to get close to my family.

He sponsored my father’s presidential campaign.

At first, I thought it was just business since he also wanted my father’s full support of the Fanning group of companies if he became president.

But I began to feel his eyes on me; intense, tiny prickles spreading over my skin.

It was stronger than any other, more chilling than when a ghost stared at you.

He soon smiled at me, something I didn’t see in high school.

Not long after, he dropped the L-word, saying how much he had been obsessed with me since middle school and how sad he was when he learned we wouldn’t be attending the same college.

We had just graduated then, and he immediately took over his dad’s company as the heir.

Meanwhile, I mopped around, waiting for a prince charming to swoop me off my feet. So, marriage was definitely an option. And that is why I didn’t hesitate to say yes when Zeath popped the question after some months of dating.

Our wedding was something out of a Cinderella fantasy. And, yes, beneath the magical lights and ethereal robes, there was something darker—rotten—that'd soon penetrate the fancy and render my life as teetering as it is now.

I move from the window to the closet, where I grab two of Zeath’s shirts. I haven’t been able to resist sniffing his scent for a while now. It’s like an addiction; bad and good in a way. But has a side effect equally.

Fuck it, what the hell am I doing? Self-pity is not a good suit for me, nor is self-blame. I look pathetic. Even my family may smell it from miles away.

I need to do something instead of wandering about and being driven to madness.

Zeath wants to gaslight me; pin his fuck up on my head. A thousand fucks to him because I’m not letting that play.

I have to get back to him and Yolie somehow. They shouldn’t toy with one’s feelings.

I also need to teach them not to tinker with marriage vows. And they certainly shouldn’t have bet on a Fanning.

Now I have to play dirty, just as they did.

My phone has been ringing on the bed for ages. I’m sure it’s not Zeath, as I have a special ringtone for his call.

I know it’s not Mom, or Dad, or Polinel either. Those three musketeers are doing a perfect job at forgetting that I ever existed.

But, despite who it is, the repeated ringtone manages to rip me from the claws of Zeath’s scent.

Now I have to at least answer this person’s call as a token of my appreciation.

The moment the call goes through, Oasis’s voice slams into my ear. “Mells, you’ve been AWO―”

“Oasis, vow to me on your last breath that I won’t find my name in the headlines tomorrow.”

“Whoa. Deep breaths, Fanning. Whenever are you not in the headlines?”

“Well, this one’s different.” I drop my voice to a whisper as if someone else in the mansion might hear me. Mind you, I’m the only one here for now. “I think Zeath and I are falling apart.”

“Wha― why?”

“Okay, I need that vow now.”

“I put a noose around my neck.” Always impatient. “Tell me.”

I take in a deep breath. “Zeath brought in a new woman. She’s damn pregnant.”

Oasis’s loud gasp nearly forces my hand to throw away my phone. “Fuck me, Mells!” she exclaims. “What in the world are you still doing there?”

“I can’t leave my marriage,” I sigh.

“No, you can. You can definitely walk out of a sick marriage when you’re being disrespected. A Fanning doesn’t tolerate that, remember?”

Yeah, I know. I read the hundreds of Fanning laws and mandates, and that’s the first one I caught. “I just...” My voice dwindles. Clearing my throat, I recover half of it. “I love him too much.”

“Aww, Mells. Okay, spill. Who’s this new woman? I might give her an earful.”

Now that’s the thing about Oasis, saying stuff that is supposed to exude compassion like she’s reading out a boring list of groceries.

I mean so when she said, ‘Aww, Mells.’ Sometimes, I wonder how she’s a doctor.

“I don’t know if an earful is necessary,” I reply. “She gets her fill from watching fucking Zeath string me along.”

“Is she a governor’s daughter, a senator’s? Tell me.”

“That I don’t know. Her name’s Yolie; the one who followed Zeath around like a pet in high school.”

“You mean Yolie Diza? Ah. She was his girlfriend. Her mom’s definitely something, I can’t recall. But I thought they’d broken up long before you and Zeath married.”

I roll my eyes with a sigh. “Well, figures.”

Oasis makes a tsk sound before silence befalls us.

Then she begins again, “You know what? I’m going to give her that earful. I’m not supposed to divulge this information, but she walked into the hospital some hours ago and hasn’t walked out since. Wonder how I only now recognize her after you mentioned her name. I’ll...”

The voice fades out as I slowly sit on the bed. My mind is a maze of ideas; conflicting ones that contrast with my morals. But I know these morals will take me nowhere.

After all, no one thought of that when they hurt me. Now I have to give them a piece of their own cake.

And thanks to Oasis’s call, I’ve just found my inspiration.

~

Her medical secretary tries to stop me at the door, but I barge in anyway. When she sees me, she quickly stands up from behind her desk and approaches me.

“For goodness’ sake, Mells, what are you doing here?” She asks in a panicked state.

“I need your help. Yolie, I need to see her.”

Oasis reaches me, grabs my shoulders, and tries to push me back toward the door. “Look, Mells, I have two active vows right now. One’s not to expose your ass. The other is to this hospital and my JOB, which I might lose since I’ve already broken a rule.”

I tear the lady’s hands off me. “You are a senior doctor.”

“And this is a Lupin hospital. I am not indestructible. Besides, you’re an angry woman trying to see the owner’s...” Oasis leans in with a whisper, “…preggy girlfriend.”

I back away before walking by her, reaching her desk and leaning on it as I state calmly, “Angry wife, Oasis.” Then I point to myself. “I’m his wife.”

Oasis scratches her nape with a sigh. “Can you just... go home? I said I would give the girl an earful.”

“Oh, at risk of ‘losing your job?’ An earful is not near enough. I need more. Now you might be thinking, ‘What more would she need? Yolie and Zeath were dating, after all, before she made herself a third wheel―’”

“No, that’s not what―”

“Which is not the case, nor did he cheat on me with her.”

“Mells, I’m not holding you―”

“They played me, Oasis,” I mutter, “those fuckers. It was a damn dare.” Oasis’s shoulders drop as her expression tangles with pity, confusion, and shock. “Apparently, because I lived in a dream world, they thought, ‘Why not make it happen?’ They’re even getting married.”

“Wait, I don’t understand.”

“Zeath said I’m a troll he can’t withstand. Do you understand that better?”

“Oh, Mells.”

I blink back tears, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth that’s in the form of saliva.

“And he only married me to fulfill a dare he made with his friends and probably the fuckfaced Yolie back in high school because I always gallivanted around the school like a queen, tagging everybody as trash with my actions. Now that’s unfair, Oasis. You should see that.”

Nothing aside from Zeath’s actions torments me more than talking about this.

If it were possible to not, I wouldn’t. But Oasis always wants to hear the story, and she’ll push you to the edge so she can.

“I sympathize with you, my friend,” she says, “but you know you’ve got to retain some self-respect, right?”

I scoff. “What value does that even have? I’ve done such for years, yet it meant nothing. And I don’t need your sympathy. I need your help.”

Oasis presses her lips into a thin line, which makes her dimples visible. Then she sighs and walks past me to sit at her desk.

Now that she’s behind me, she asks, “What do you want me to do?”

Relief washes through me, knowing I can’t enact what I have in mind without her. “I want you to conduct an ultrasound on Yolie for me.”

I hear Oasis drum her fingers on the desk. “I bet she’s done that already.”

“No. I want to intercept the result.”

The lady lets out a skeptical chuckle. I still do not turn to face her as I cross my hands on my chest.

“Okay,” she concedes before I hear her leave her chair to stand beside me. “My conscience is going to beat me, but I’ll meet her doctor now and get you the result. Probably will take minutes.”

She heads forward for the door.

“One more thing,” I suddenly voice out. That stops her in her tracks before she even places her hand on the doorknob.

“What now, Mellow?” She drawls while turning to me.

“I need you to kidnap her.”

Oasis gasps. “What the fu―”

She glances back as if cautious that someone watched her through the door, then she hurries to my side, peering at my face with eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “What the fuck, Mells, are you insane?”

I smile. “No, I’m perfectly sane.”

Oasis looks at me like she’s seen a monster jump into her boat. “You want to kidnap a pregnant woman.” She blinks in confusion and disbelief. “Zeath’s girlfriend?”

I huff. “Skip mentioning the last part for the sake of our friendship. And I won’t harm her. I only need to teach Zeath a lesson or two.”

“You think he won’t find her? He has eyes everywhere.”

“Yeah, sure he does. But the thing is, he won’t be searching in the right place. Zeath thinks I’m a softie and all about whining for my dreams to come true. He doesn’t know that when a Fanning puts their mind to something, they get it done. One way or another.”

Oasis lets out a huge sigh—it sounds shaky as if she’s scared of Zeath rather than frustrated by me. “Oh, fuck me, Mells,” she groans. “I’m gonna be roasted like a witch if I’m discovered. And you, you might actually turn up dead.”

I smile. “You’ll die first if you don’t get your ass working.”

“Ugh! Stay here. You move an inch, the hospital swallows you. You hear me?”

I nod.

Oasis leaves and returns after a few minutes, looking sweaty, tired, and quite pissed. She ignores me for seconds as she reclines in her chair with closed eyes, while I turn to her, wagging my tail impatiently.

“Will you tell me where she is or not?” I ask.

Oasis opens her eyes. Oh, there’s a glare. “‘Thank you, Oasis.’ It’s simple courtesy to say thank you when you’ve been aided.”

“I’ll do that when I know I got what I want.”

We exchange silent stares for some time before the lady begins to rap, “Yolie had finished the ultrasound and was probably waiting for someone in the VIP section. Guess who? That makes things more complicated. But I had a trusted nurse of mine put her to sleep and take her to my car without being noticed.”

She sits up and tosses her car key to my side of the desk before warning, “Now I’ve taken precautions in handling Yolie so far and hope you do the same. At least for the sake of her baby.”

“I’m not going to kill her, Oasis, if that’s what you're scared of,” I say with a shrug. Then, on second thought, I frown. “You shouldn’t even think that of me in the first place, but thank you. How about the scan result?”

“Will be sent to your private estate in a few. Drop your car keys and leave now. Yolie might be awake already.”

I serve Oasis a mock bow before grabbing her keys, dropping mine, and heading for the parking lot.

She mentioned Zeath’s coming complicates things, but she doesn’t know it’s a blessing for me.

Purely Mother Earth hearing my pleas.

I want him to discover his baby mama’s not in the hospital when he arrives. Let the itch to know his baby’s gender kill him.

And, hell. Let the fear of Yolie’s safety eat him up to the last of his guts.

Reaching Oasis’s car, I find Yolie carefully laid in the backseat.

Her breathing features are laid out in plain sight: subtle cheeks that are evidence of good sleep, light brown baby hairs straying over her forehead, and the front corners of her ears.

She looks tired, probably the effects of pregnancy hitting her. It makes me wish guilt works the same way too—showing on the face as one sleeps—because then I wouldn’t have to exhaust myself asking a hundred and one questions.

I start the car, and as I turn the wheel toward the hospital entrance, a shuffling sound from the backseat causes me to stop.

Yolie’s soft sigh reaches my ears before I stare at her through the rearview mirror. She’s glancing around, confused. And the fear that meets her eyes when she notices me can’t be missed.

“Hello, Yolie, spot your dearest boyfriend?” I ask with a smile.

Zeath’s car had just driven into the parking lot.

As he rushes into the building, Yolie looks at him through the window.

She panics, banging on the latter. If only she knew it was useless. No one will hear her. Zeath has already disappeared into the building too.

“What do you want from me?” She snaps after she stops banging.

I huff. “What you lost when you played with my person.”

“I don’t lose stuff. If anything, you lost Zeath.”

The fuck? “Shut your trap, or I'll cut your tongue and feed it to your baby.”

Yolie places her hands on her stomach. For a moment there, I see terror flash in her eyes.

But it disappears right before she hisses, “This won’t go unnoticed. My husband will come for you.”

“Husband?” I can’t help laughing. “You’re just his baby mama, hon. You’ll see him long enough for me to give him a legitimate child. And, oh, let him come.”

I drive out of the hospital.

Throughout the ride, I don’t stop glancing at the rearview mirror occasionally, just in case Yolie tries to strangle me from behind. She keeps checking her knee-high boots too, looking like she lost something.

It takes nearly an hour to arrive at my villa before I alight the car, going around it to usher Yolie out. She struggles to step out, and I don’t help her at all.

Here I was scared she’d do something when she can barely hold her feet on the ground.

We head inside the building, where I keep Yolie prisoner in one of my spare rooms that only has a narrow bed.

Yolie sits on the bed with her legs stretched wide in front of her. She rests her backside against the wall and puffs out air, while I perch beside her.

“Your doctor mentioned your baby’s gender after the scan?” I ask after staring at the woman for some time. It’s a rhetorical question, by the way. And Yolie rolling her eyes confirms that.

“I plead the fifth,” she mumbles.

“Like you’ll tell the truth even if you swear in a courtroom,” I snap back. “Your conscience is what you lost. So, I like to know how it feels to fuck me up like that.”

“Well, if kidnapping pregnant women is ethical, then why not anything else?”

“Yolie, that’s out of character for you. I know you could do worse; you know that too.”

“Then why ask about my conscience?”

I tilt my head to the side, my lips too. “You present yourself as a tough nut. Still, I notice a crack of your envy and fear. You’re scared Zeath might actually love me. That he might wake up tomorrow and say, ‘Fuck you and your baby, Yolie, I go with Mellow.’”

Yolie lets out an enormous belly laugh, nearly falling to her side. “Do you hear yourself? Only I should be delusional; I’m pregnant. What’s your excuse?” She stops laughing, then sniffles before swiping her index finger under her nose. “At least put on your saintly character and let me go. Don’t be this villain you’re forcing yourself to become. It’ll compress you.”

I sigh as I move toward the room entrance.

“You and Zeath are really birds of the same feather, aren’t you?” I mutter, facing Yolie and leaning on the door. “You do stuff and try to turn it on me. Not fair.”

“You are the one who allowed yourself to be used. You were like an empty vessel that craved a fill of love and attention.”

“An empty vessel, you say?”

“Were you far from that?” Yolie’s starting to enjoy this. “I could smell your misery from afar. Even with all your raised chins and unblinking eyes, I knew it was a protective shell with no meat inside.”

“I might just hit you, Yolie,” I whisper weakly.

Yet, that doesn’t bother the woman. “Sweet, add assault to your list of offenses.”

If she’s aiming to get inside my head, then she shouldn’t try so hard. Whatever she’s doing, it’s working. Because now I’m contemplating if there’s some truth in her words.

Zeath mentioned the same thing, after all.

“You’re just waiting for Zeath to jump in and save your ass,” I say slowly as Yolie rests her head on the wall and closes her eyes. “But what will you do when you discover he’ll never find you unless I let him?”

My phone rings. It’s Mama Tia.

Before last week, a call from her meant a massive flow of joy.

Now there’s nothing.

“Mellow, darling,” her soft, careful voice comes from the other side of the phone.

I hesitate before replying, “Hi.”

“Ah. Be less grumpy, and you’ll live longer than I am. What do you say we talk over tea this afternoon? I brewed too much. You know I don’t like wasting stuff.”

“Uhm…” The doorbell rings. “I don’t know if I can, Mama Tia,” I say flatly while leaving the room, locking Yolie behind.

“Oh, come on. What could you possibly be doing? I thought we always compromised together.”

At the front door, I find a big brown envelope sitting on the threshold. I tear it to reveal the main package, and bingo, it’s what I’ve been waiting for!

Oh, good Oasis. Best friend ever!

I can’t help smirking as I stare at Yolie’s ultrasound result. Maybe I need this meeting with Mama Tia.

“Alright, expect me soon.”

ZEATH.

“I’m at the hospital, hon, for an ultrasound,” Yolie says through the phone as I return from the restroom.

I sit behind my office desk, watching Beavan set some files on it. “We didn’t discuss that yet, my love.”

“Yes, yes, I’m aware.” Yolie sighs. “I’m sorry. I just... I nearly died of curiosity.”

“You know it doesn’t matter the baby’s gender, right?” I ask. Yolie falls silent. “You there, love?”

She still doesn’t reply, so my fingers count each second on the desk till she finally does. “It’s easy to say until your brother closes in.”

I frown. “East has no claim.”

“He has two sons. And the company doesn’t favor women much.”

She isn’t far from the truth, yet my brother won’t dare me unless Vietili pokes his ass for the umpteenth time.

“Stay in the hospital, love. My work here will finish in an hour. Tell your doctor to get you whatever you want. And ensure you don’t stress much.”

“I’m not stressing at all, though I’m worried staying in the hospital isn’t safe. East gets information somehow, and you heard his tone when he made that toast. He isn’t pleased.”

God damn East and his shenanigans. “I’ll deal with him. Rest now, baby girl. I love you.”

Yolie giggles. “I love you more. Kisses?”

“Hang up the call, Yolie.”

Her titters don’t die down. Certainly, she knows how much hearing her happy gratifies my heart.

When the call ends and I’m left with a beep tone, I find I’m sinking into a silence that eats up my concentration. Maybe my sanity too, as time goes on.

An hour of work throws a long bridge between my lady and me.

I’d skip it and make my way to her already if it were possible. But, no, I have to work, mostly to clean up the mess my dear father left when he died.

Gratfiend Lupin was the perfect embodiment of a macho man. His ego made him enemies from every quarter, and he never learned to admit that before his death.

Now I’m left to wipe his sour trails. I don’t even know when it’ll end. But I know this—it has taken me four years, yet I’m half-finished.

Amongst the mess he created was my brother, East, though Vietili gave him a hand.

If only she had listened to Father and flushed East’s pregnancy when asked to, we’d be rid of one problem by now.

Instead, she kept the pregnancy, pampered the boy till he couldn’t bend straws, then pushed him into the company even after he failed his responsibility as a first son.

Beavan completely sets the files, bows, and leaves just as my phone dings. East’s text sits on the phone screen: ‘How ya holding up, brother? Pregnancy and all. Dead yet?’

I huff as I swipe it off, only to find Mellow’s too—ones she sent me through the week; ignored, others not on the screen left in the trash.

I just hope she’ll stop clinging to me with her melancholia. The height of her immaturity has me wrinkling my nose. It always did.

Back in high school, I thought it was her young age. Yet, some years later, she’s still the same old Mellow with the stuck-up attitude and a dramatic distaste for losing.

It makes me appreciate Yolie more. Loving someone a year older is probably better than having someone four years younger reduce my frame of mind to nothing.

She doesn’t even realize her infantilism blinded her from seeing the hints that were right there.

And I don’t know who told her a good marriage is without qualms because that person clearly hasn’t swum in the buildout of a healthy union or hasn’t married before.

One hour soon expires, yet a rotten temptation lingers, urging me to stay and finish more work.

But the temptation of seeing the true love of my life is greater.

I strictly instruct Beavan on the remaining files. They contain sensitive matters, you see. Then I proceed to the hospital.

It doesn’t take me much time to discover which room Yolie is in.

However, on getting there, I find it empty, aside from a nurse who seems lost loitering near the bed.

“Where is Yolie?” I ask, causing her to flinch at the sound of my voice.

She looks scared to death, probably even shitting her pants already.

“Please tell me my woman is safe,” I mumble with an effort to keep my cool while doing a terrible job at that.

As the nurse still doesn’t reply, handing me Yolie’s phone, I take the hint. Something has happened.

“Fuck it!”

I put Beavan on call while hurrying to the hospital entrance. “Skip the papers, Beavan! Send some men to East’s and leave no stone unturned. Find my lady.”

I toss the phone to a seat before starting the car. The tires screech as I zoom out, my sweating fingers clasping the steering wheel.

I should’ve sniffed that East was up to something when he sent the text. He always is.

Yolie was right. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t ignored her warning.

The motherfucker has just meddled with my leniency, and I’ll put aside the goddamn fact that he’s my brother just to snap his neck.

Then I’ll fix the neck, make sure he doesn’t die, and then go over the same process. So that next time he’ll know not to mess with my property, especially not my properties.

When I reached East’s villa, I found my men rummaging through it.

His men do nothing, standing unbothered in their stations, which means one thing—Yolie isn’t here.

And as I move closer to the house’s rear, the ping-pong sound coming from there only intensifies my rage.

“East Lupin!” I yell before my brother’s guffaw travels to me.

On reaching his back porch, I find him engrossed in table tennis, the glass barricade around the porch serving as my only hindrance to the field where he’s in.

But that won’t be an issue much longer, as I swing the door open to enter the field.

“Do you hear that?” East utters to his ping-pong opponent, but I know it’s for me. “That’s the sweet sound of trouble.”

He stops playing to turn around, approaching me with a swagger in his steps.

My knuckles are pale already, hungry for blood. Blood they’ll soon savor.

“Hello brother,” East drawls, “haven’t seen you here since half a quarter decade ag―” His words die in his mouth when my fist meets his jaw.

East wipes blood from his nose while throwing his head back, snickering as he struggles to regain his composure.

He doesn’t fully do so when I knead my fingers into the spot between his shoulder and neck before pinning him down, his back on the tennis board.

His opponent sprints for life.

“Tell me where my woman is,” I snarl.

East perks his brows, still smiling. “Which one?”

I stress the point where I’m holding him. “I swear I’ll tear those lips off, East.”

“Well, you forced one into a torturous crescendo yourself, while I got the tastier one. Gobbled down every bit of her, her fetus too.”

A snappy punch cuts the grin on his lips. Now he looks better with blood on his teeth. He groans from the pain.

“Where. Is. She?” I bark.

“Why should I tell you, huh? You’ll wag your tail and save her like the knight in shining armor you think you are?” East’s snigger spurts blood over his face. His grey eyes glimmer when he thrusts his head up as if to resist my grip. “Why don’t you make me a deal? Surely, the company is worth your wife and child.”

“You do not want to price my family, East.”

My brother scoffs, and I swear if one more drop of his blood touches my skin, I’ll be sure to drain it all out of him.

“You know it’ll be easier if I just cut her down, throw her remnants to your feet,” he grunts, “then watch as depression eats you deep, and keeps you distracted long enough for me to claim the company.”

My fury drives me to exert more dominance on East by working my thumb into one of his neck veins.

That results in him grunting in pain as I lean down to whisper in his ear.

“Your sick ideas know no bounds, brother.”

East lets out a difficult laughter. “I’m not the one who played a Fanning for three years, dude! You won yourself a knife in the gut with that one.”

Ah, I see. I see what he’s doing.

Mind games, like he always does.

Yolie’s probably somewhere else now, suffering while I’m here trying to squeeze nothing from my brother.

He works better with action—not that I’ve seen a result. But no one has tried either, and I’m about to be the first.

I rise to my full height before turning to Beavan, who has been a standing mess behind me. “Initiate strike on his men. Them still as poles annoy me,” I tell him.

Handling office and men-in-black duties must be taking a toll on him. But it’s harder for a man whose abducted family is on the chopping block of power and motivation.

“You, my brother, are coming with me,” I say to East as I yank him into the hands of two of my men before instructing Beavan yet again, “And fetch me his damn sons.”

Stepping into the protective glass walls of the porch, I watch the chaotic artistry of flying bullets and grunts of death and pain going on in the field.

But East’s chuckles are what keep spoiling the moment.

Will he still find the whole situation funny when my men put a gun to his boys’ temples?

Yes, he does.

He merely stares at their unconscious forms lying at his feet. Strapped to a leather chair, he looks up at me with a probing mischief. “Is this supposed to be a motivation?”

I nod. “Hell yeah. Now tell me. Where is Yolie?”

“In hell. She’s a sinner, after all. And so are you.”

I let out a short chuckle while shaking my head.

“Don’t start with the Bible, brother. You know who always winds up losing.” East shrugs while I walk by him to stand at his back, massaging his shoulders rather roughly as I mutter, “For heaven’s sake, I’ll kill your sons, brother.”

“Do it.” He sounds like he’s made up his mind. “You’ll only prove to me who the monster is between you and me.” Ah. So that’s where we are. He knows I don’t mean to do it. And I really do not want to.

I thought the threat would propel him to spill, but he’s seen more of me than necessary.

So, I’ll have to surprise him. His sons are important to his quest, after all.

I signal my men with a nod before their index fingers slowly reach for the gun triggers.

That unsettles East. First, his hands curl into fists. Then he sits up, battling with the straps as his legs kick as if to stand up.

Beavan runs in to hand me my phone. I find two messages on the screen.

One from an unknown number: ‘Mr. Lupin, this is Oasis Lebnon and I’m really sorry, sir. I need to confess something.’

Then one from Vietili: ‘Where re u! Why does this witch have an ultrasound result of Yolie’s baby?’

My brows knit together in a frown. One that pastes on East’s face when he cranes his neck toward me.

For once, the wrinkles on his forehead are not the result of a smile as he asks without gloating, “Did you find your bad guy?”