Dale Atkins POV:

My hand moved to Jetta's collar, then hesitated. Faith. My Faith. The thought of her waiting for me at home, perhaps even forgiving me, was a sudden, cold splash of water. I couldn't betray her. Not like this.

The sudden rush of desire vanished, replaced by a wave of self-loathing. I gently set Jetta down, covering her shivering shoulders with my jacket. Her face was pale, a mask of confused disappointment. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice flat. "But Faith is my fiancée. I still love her."

I believed that. Deep down, I truly did. My mistakes, my weakness, my stupidity with Jetta – they were blips, not true betrayal. Faith's anger, her pain, was justifiable. I would return home, talk to her, make things right. We would get married, just as we planned. The image of Faith in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle, her face radiant, filled my mind. I imagined announcing our lifelong commitment to all our friends and family, a moment that would be the second happiest of my life, after Faith saying "yes."

Jetta, her face a storm of conflicting emotions, lunged forward, pressing her lips desperately against mine. "Please, Dale," she sobbed, "I've loved you for so long. I'll be your secret, your mistress, anything you want."

My voice hardened. "No," I said, pushing her away. "I have never, and will never, think of you that way. I am loyal to Faith. I am loyal to my marriage."

"But why?" Jetta cried, her voice rising. "Why do you keep thinking of her when you're with me? She doesn't deserve you! She probably cheated on you while she was abroad. She's cruel, she hurt me so many times!"

My voice dropped, cold and dangerous. "Faith is not someone you get to speak about," I snarled. I remembered punching a friend once, years ago, for daring to imply something similar about Faith. I pushed Jetta away, standing abruptly. "Faith is the most important person in my life. Yes, I was a fool, I hurt her. But you're nothing to me. Your internship is over. You'll be transferred to another hospital when we return."

I didn't look back at her tear-streaked face. I stormed out, leaving her to whatever fate awaited her.

That night, I still hadn't heard from Faith. I convinced myself she was just being stubborn, playing hard to get. I sent her a text, a playful message, telling her to pick me up at the airport tomorrow. I couldn't wait to see her.

The anticipation lasted all the way until the plane landed. I waited for two hours, scanning faces, hoping to see her. The air around me grew heavy, a storm brewing. Faith never showed.

My fists clenched around my phone, knuckles white. I dialed her number, my finger shaking. The cold, automated voice answered: "The number you have dialed is not available." She had blocked me.

The phone almost slipped from my hand. Rage, hot and desperate, surged through me, mixed with a chilling fear, a primal panic. She wasn't just mad. She was gone.

I threw myself into my car, speeding down the highway, running red lights, ignoring the blare of horns. My heart hammered against my ribs. I burst through the door of our penthouse, calling her name.

Silence. The apartment was pristine, almost sterile. Her side of the bed was untouched. No trace of her anywhere. The housekeeper, trembling, confirmed my worst fear: "She left yesterday, sir. With her luggage."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" I roared, slamming my fist against the wall, the dull thud echoing through the empty rooms. I was a caged animal, desperate and cornered.

The housekeeper, cowering, muttered, "Jetta told us not to."

Jetta. A cold, hard clarity cut through the fog of my rage. Jetta had orchestrated this.

"Find her," I commanded my assistant, my voice hoarse. "Find Faith. She's just hiding from me. She just wants me to apologize."

My assistant, looking uncomfortable, cleared his throat. "Sir, there's an email in your work account. From Faith. It's… about Jetta."

My heart leaped, a desperate flicker of hope. An email? From Faith? "Is it her new address? A surprise?" I stammered, my voice cracking.

My assistant looked even more uncomfortable. "It's… not exactly good news, sir. It's about Jetta."

My heart plummeted, the fleeting hope extinguished. From heaven to hell in an instant. My fingers, trembling, clicked open the email.

Dale Atkins POV:

The email contained a video and several images. My fingers hovered over the video file, my heart pounding in my chest. I clicked play, holding my breath.

It was security footage. I recognized the bar instantly. My blood ran cold as I watched myself, drunk and disoriented, leaning against the couch. Then Jetta appeared, her face a mask of false concern, her body pressing against mine. And then, the kiss. I had convinced myself it was a harmless peck, a drunken mistake. But the camera, from a detached, objective angle, showed the devastating truth. It was a long, passionate kiss, a deep betrayal.

My gut clenched. A wave of nausea washed over me, leaving me cold and trembling. I saw Faith then, standing in the doorway, her face utterly devoid of emotion, her eyes like dead coals. I watched Jetta approach her, heard Jetta' s cruel, venomous words, her taunts echoing in the sterile silence of the video. The insults, the accusations, the sheer malice in Jetta's voice – each word was a dagger twisting in my heart.

I doubled over, gasping for air, the pain in my chest unbearable. The housekeeper, who had been standing silently nearby, recoiled, thinking she had angered me further. She quickly tried to distance herself from Jetta. "Jetta ordered us not to tell you, sir!" she cried, her voice trembling. "She brainwashed us! She told us she was going to be the new mistress! She made us report your every move!" The words tumbled out of her, a desperate confession. "When Faith came back, Jetta made our lives hell. She made us slap Faith! She even made us give Faith a special allergy medicine, a huge dose! It was supposed to be lethal, but Faith was lucky, she made it out alive." She finished, tears streaming down her face. "And then Jetta punished us for messing up!"

My hands clenched into fists, trembling with a primal fury. Faith, in the hospital, her face pale, her body covered in angry welts. And I, the blind idiot, defending Jetta, accusing Faith. The shame, the guilt, the self-loathing burned through me, a raging inferno. I felt like I was being slowly tortured, Faith's disappointed eyes now a thousand tiny blades piercing my soul.

With a roar of pure frustration, I swept everything off my desk. "Faith is my wife!" I screamed, my voice raw with anguish. "My only wife! Are you all blind?!"

The housekeeper, cowering, mumbled an apology. "But sir," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "every time you came home, you argued with Faith. And you always smiled when you saw Jetta."

Her words landed with the weight of a sledgehammer. I fell silent, my mind reeling. She was right. I had been a fool. "It's my fault," I choked out, my voice thick with tears. "I hurt her." My body trembled, my teeth grinding, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

Just then, a light tap at the door. Jetta's soft voice, once a seductive murmur, now sounded sickeningly fake. "Dale? Are you there? I have something important to tell you."

The housekeeper, her eyes wide with fear, whispered, "She's here to drug you, sir. She wants to make you think you spent the night with her, then use it to blackmail you."

I laughed, a cold, humorless sound. My knuckles cracked. I had been so utterly blind. So easily manipulated. "Let her in," I said, my voice dangerously calm.

Dale Atkins POV:

The housekeeper, trembling, slowly opened the door. Jetta walked in, her face carefully made up, looking deceptively innocent and radiant. She didn't notice the icy tension in the air, the storm brewing in my eyes. Her heart was probably pounding with anticipation, her face painted with feigned tears. "I've thought a lot about it," she said, her voice a soft, contrite whisper. "I shouldn't have interfered. I truly wish you and Faith a lifetime of happiness." She held out a glass of red wine. "My last wish, if I may, is to toast you. Thank you for everything, Dale. I'll never forget your kindness."

My blood ran cold. My voice, when I spoke, was a chilling whisper. "Bring it here."

Her face lit up with triumph. She practically skipped over, her eyes shining. "To your success, Dale, and to your happiness!" she chirped, holding out the glass.

My hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat. Her eyes widened, her face turning purple as she gasped, struggling against my grip. "Jetta," I snarled, each syllable laced with venom. I wanted to tear her apart, shred her into a thousand pieces.

"Dale, please," she choked, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"Shut up!" I roared, my voice raw with rage. "Don't you dare speak Faith's name!" I slammed her against the wall, my hand tightening around her jaw, twisting it with brutal force. A sickening crunch echoed through the room. She screamed, her face chalk-white.

Without a moment's hesitation, I forced the drugged wine down her throat. She choked, sputtering, her body convulsing. She tried to spit it out, but it was too late. The potent drug was already taking hold.

"It's a fast-acting drug," I said, my voice a low growl, "you'll need your stomach pumped right away." I stomped on her hand, grinding my heel into her fingers. She shrieked in agony, still trying to blame Faith.

I shoved my phone in her face, playing the security footage from the bar. Her eyes widened in horror. "No! It's fake! Faith did this!" she screamed, a desperate, pathetic attempt at denial.

I slapped her across the face so hard she flew several feet, collapsing on the floor. Her face was a mottled mess of red and purple. The drug was taking effect. Her body writhed, her hands tearing at her clothes, her eyes glazed with a desperate arousal. "I need you, Dale," she whimpered, "hold me, please!"

Just then, my assistant appeared with five burly foreign men. They were huge, hairy, and reeked of cheap cologne. I pointed a cold, unforgiving finger at Jetta. "She's all yours."

Jetta froze, her eyes widening in terror. "No! She shrieked, a primal scream tearing from her throat. "Dale, please! I love you! My body can only be yours!"

I watched, cold and unfeeling, as they dragged her out. "You're a hypocrite, Dale!" she shrieked, her voice fading as they pulled her further away. "This is all your fault!"

I grabbed a chair and flung it against the wall, roaring, "Shut up!" The sound of her screams eventually died down, replaced by a chilling silence.

My anger, my desperation, burned brighter than ever. "Why can't you find Faith?!" I demanded of my assistant, my voice hoarse.

He cowered, shaking his head. "We can't find any trace of her, sir. It's like someone erased her from all surveillance, all digital footprints."

Just then, the doorbell rang. My heart leaped into my throat. Faith. It had to be Faith. I practically flew to the door, tearing it open.