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.

Dale Atkins POV:

My heart sank. It wasn't Faith. It was a woman in a charity uniform. "Are you Faith Frazier's boyfriend?" she asked, her voice cheerful.

I stared at her, confused. "What?"

"She donated a lot of high-value items," the woman continued, oblivious to my turmoil. My eyes widened. "We found this ring and a letter among her donations. We think she might have accidentally put them in there, so we wanted to return them." She held out a small velvet box and a sealed envelope.

I grabbed her wrist, my voice a desperate croak. "What did she donate?"

She handed me a printed auction list. My eyes scanned the items, my breath catching in my throat. Every single item was a gift I had given Faith during our time apart. My heart twisted. She had promised to cherish them. Now, she had given them away.

A cold dread seeped into my bones. Faith was really gone. She didn't want me anymore. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart, bleeding uncontrollably. I stood there for a long time, numb, then took the ring and the letter.

My fingers trembled as I opened the envelope. Her familiar, elegant handwriting filled the page. A wave of crushing grief washed over me, tears streaming down my face.

The letter was a love letter. She wrote of her excitement to return to me, of wanting to propose to me on my birthday. She had even made the ring herself, despite her clumsy hands, a testament to her deep love.

I read the letter over and over, for half an hour, each word a fresh wound. Tears streamed down my face, my body wracked with sobs. "I'm so sorry, Faith," I choked out, my voice raw with anguish. "I'm so sorry." I swore I would find her. No matter what.

For three days, I barely ate or slept. I used every resource, every connection I had, to find her. Nothing. I was a wreck.

Then, my assistant called. He had a lead. Faith had met with her best friend before leaving. I immediately called her friend.

"You scumbag!" she shrieked when she recognized my voice, then hung up and blocked me.

Undeterred, I drove to her office. When she saw me, she sped off in her car, almost running me over.

The third time, I managed to corner her. Her eyes blazed with fury. "You have some nerve, Dale! Still trying to juggle two women?"

I ignored her insults. "Where is Faith?" I asked, my voice hoarse, begging her to tell me.

She laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "What? So you can hurt her again?" She then launched into a tirade, recounting Faith's sacrifices: the late nights studying, the sickness she had hidden from me, the surgery she had undergone before returning home. "You were her only reason for fighting through it, Dale! And if it wasn't for you, she would have a much better life!"

My throat was dry. I looked down, tears blurring my vision. "She didn't tell me," I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "She didn't tell me any of this." I was a monster. A complete and utter bastard. I remembered Faith asking me if I loved Jetta. My silence, my hesitation.

With a roar of self-disgust, I slapped myself across the face. "I love Faith!" I screamed, my voice raw. "Only Faith! I was wrong!" It was too late. I finally had the answer, but it was too late.

Her friend turned to leave. I grabbed her arm. "No! Wait!" I pulled out a small knife. She gasped, staring at me in horror. I plunged the knife into my arm. The sharp pain was a small price to pay. I pulled it out, blood dripping onto the pavement. "Tell me where she is! I demanded, my voice trembling.

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. "I won't tell you anything."

I stabbed myself again, this time in the stomach. Blood gushed, staining my shirt. "You're insane!" she shrieked, recoiling in terror.

I laughed, a hollow, desperate sound. "I have no reason to live without Faith," I said, my voice barely a whisper, blood dripping from my lips. "If I can't apologize to her, I'll die trying. Just give me her number. Please." Her friend, her face pale with shock, finally gave in. She pulled out her phone, her hand shaking, and showed me a number.

My eyes fixated on the digits, a desperate hope blooming in my chest. I rushed to my car, ignoring the blood gushing from my wounds, and dialed a foreign number.

The phone rang. A woman's soft voice answered.