Page 115 of Owen

“I’d love to help, but I genuinely do not know.” Richard slowly moves away from his desk, then confidently folds his arms across his chest.

Raging, I keep trying to get past his guard. I give him a hard shoulder push but he’s as solid as a mountain and stands firm, barely moving when I shove, scratch and punch him, launching myself with all my strength. He’s another foot taller and as wide as a house, and I don’t stand a chance.

“You bastard, you knew I would fail,” I spit, exasperated.

“Now, now, we’re not in a playground, Owen. No name calling.” He rubs his chin in thought. “I can’t lie. You surprised me. Few men would turn up on my doorstep. You’re ballsy, I’ll give you that.”

Frantically pacing, pulse racing, heart pounding, flesh burning, I pull my tie, loosening it, then undo my top button. I’m burning up.

“Where is she?” I ask again.

He holds his hands up as if under duress. “I promise. I’m not responsible.”

“Fuck this.” I turn to leave. “And you can forget my offer to work for you. You didn’t keep your end of the bargain.”

He replies, “Oh, but there was still one day left to find the rest of the money, Owen. I haven’t touched your girl.”

“You’re a liar,” I roar, pulling open the door.

His words hauntingly chase me down the stairs as I run as fast as I can out of his home. “If you renege on the offer, Owen, you still owe me 1.5 million.” His voice echoes out behind me.

“Fuck you.” I dash across the marble hallway.

“Owen.” I’m startled when a faint feminine voice calls my name.

It stops me in my tracks. I search the cavernous entryway of the house that every member of the Sanderson family lives in together.

Camilla.

Standing off to the side, she looks as white as a sheet, herbathrobe pulled so tight around her, highlighting her frame that’s as thin as a drainpipe.

“He didn’t keep his end of the bargain,” I yell at her, my voice cracking. It echoes round the space. “And you know he’s lying about Dad committing suicide.” I move to her quickly, stepping in close to her face. “Did you know he was planning to run away?” I whisper through my clenched jaw. “Dad?”

Her face crumbles and wordlessly, she nods.

I look up over my shoulder to the upstairs balcony. Standing wide, with hands in their pockets, Richard and Gideon watch our interaction.

Moving to the shell of her ear, I lower my voice. “They’ve taken everything from us. You should take your son and run. You and Sean are not safe. Do you know where Jade is?”

“I don’t,” she sobs, shaking her head.

“Traitor,” I hiss. “You’re just like them.”

Glaring upward, furious with myself for believing I could trust them, I leave, broken, destroyed, knowing the woman I love is missing, most likely gone.

Nothing makes sense without her.

I was too late.

I couldn’t save her.

My mother was right. I am a worthless piece of shit. I don’t deserve good things in my life.

Running out of the house, unable to catch my breath, I fall into the abyss of self-hatred and heartbreak.

It’s like that feeling when you can’t reach the bottom of the pool. I’m drowning and don’t know how to stay afloat, so I do the only thing I know how to do. The thing that everyone expects of me.

I find the solution to my problems in the bottom of a bottle and drink myself to oblivion.

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