e Cummi

alating pain in my abdomen. I was fading, I knew it. But still, the cold concrete floor beneath me was a stark reminder of Bradford's absence, his utter forgetfuln

he didn't even kn

limb. From this new, detached perspective, I watched. I watched the frantic activity above ground, the flashin

moved with a quiet urgency, his brow furrowed with a genuine concern that Bradford had never fully shown. H

flying across the screen. He was calling Bradf

carried the weight of his irritation and growing worry. "They've secured the mai

with Flora, comforting her, buying her some absurdly

r me to almost hear. "Adrianne? She's probably just... making a scene, Arthur. You know

. He really thought that? He thought I would fake my disappearance to punish him?

here's no sign of her. The criminals didn't ask for a ransom for her. They speci

a strange sense of comfort mixing

ably just hiding out, waiting for me to come crawling back. She's resilient.

ice rose in frustration. "This is serious. I'

g to a deep-seated anger. He was trying to make my husband understan

line. Flora. Of course. Her performative fragility, he

something sickeningly sweet. "Yes, darling? Are you still cold? I'm

The stark contrast

ght. Unlike Adrianne, she's not a hardened crisis manager. She needs me right now. If Adrianne cared, she

ust like that

th, his knuckles white as he gripped the device. He uttered a low, guttural growl, then, in a

broken pieces. His anger, however, quickly morphed into a grim determination. "Damn i

you," he vowed, his gaze sweeping the dimly lit areas of the buil

alling from my spectral eye. He was cryi

s. He moved with a renewed fervor, checking every nook and cranny, every hidden space. He

crates. It led down, deeper underground, into the cold, forgotten belly of the

ncrete. The sight was horrific. My clothes were torn, my body bruised, a dark

h tears. He touched my wrist, his fingers searching for a pulse. There wa

t basement. His body shook uncontrollably, his grief a palpable force. He

me. Arthur, who cried for me. Bradford, my husband, was probably still feeding Flora cheesecake, convinced I wa

uly seen me, truly valued me. He always saw Flora as the delicate one, the one who neede

tough enough," we