Two months after Remington Cohen put me behind bars, I died.

With nowhere to go, my soul lingered inside the Cohen's mansion.

"Stay right there. I'm coming to you."

In the study, Remington's voice dripped with honey as he soothed the woman on the other end of the line.

He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, one hand resting gracefully on the desk.

The boy who once toiled on construction sites, gnawing on stale bread between shifts, had transformed into the most powerful big shot in Chicago.

Moments later, he hung up, slipped on his coat, and strode out.

I drifted after him.

The car purred to a stop outside a private art studio.

As Remington pushed open the door, Fernanda Lopez was struggling to rise from her wheelchair—only to collapse back with a cry.

Tears shimmered in her doe-like eyes as she gazed up at him. "Remy... am I never going to dance again?"

Remington crossed the room and carefully lifted her back into the chair. "It's my fault. If I hadn't let you stay with Katharine that day, none of this would've happened..."

His face darkened as he added, "I'll make sure she suffers in prison for what she's done."

I let out a bitter, soundless laugh.

That wouldn't be necessary, for I'd already suffered enough torture and died a tragic death.

I died in that hellhole two months after he sent me there—killed by the years of weakness from giving my blood to Fernanda.

A wicked glint flashed across Fernanda's eyes.

Her face crumpled into perfect, heartbreaking vulnerability. "Remy, Katharine should've learned her lesson by now. Please let her out... The doctors say I don't have much time. I need a bone marrow transplant to live."

Fernanda suffered from severe aplastic anemia.

And I'd been her living blood blank.

In fact, I was the real daughter of the Lopezes.

My foster mother, Rhonda Dobson, had switched me and Fernanda at birth. Then, when I was sixteen, the Lopezes finally tracked me down.

But they didn't bring me home out of love. They just did it so they could draw my blood anytime they wanted to keep their precious foster daughter alive.

I'd foolishly hoped that giving my blood to save Fernanda might earn me a shred of their affection.

Yet every time Fernanda shed a single tear, they branded me the jealous monster who bullied her.

When she broke her leg on purpose, all she did was whimper, "Katharine didn't mean it," and everyone blamed it on me.

***

Remington ignored Fernanda's plea, his tone ice-cold. "Let her stay there a while longer. When she begs for my forgiveness, I'll let her out."

I gave a bitter smile.

Remington, I could never beg for forgiveness again.

Because I was already dead.

Remington and I once shared a love so tender and raw it felt like the whole world belonged to us.

Then my biological parents dragged me back, and I had no choice but to break his heart.

When we met again years later, he'd been in a car accident, lying on the road, covered in blood.

Fernanda and I were the only ones there.

She wrinkled her nose at his threadbare clothes, refusing to help. She even tried to stop me.

I shoved past her, hauled him into a cab, and got him to the hospital.

However, I didn't have enough money, and Fernanda wouldn't lend a cent. So I worked myself to the bone—double shifts, odd jobs, anything to cover his bills.

Soon after, the Cohen empire's patriarch recognized Remington by half an emerald pendant and reclaimed Remington as his long-lost heir.

For years afterward, Remington searched for the girl who had saved his life.

When Fernanda found out, she brazenly lied, claiming to be his savior. Worse, she stole the credit and maliciously pinned the act of refusing to help him entirely on me!

He already despised me for dumping him all those years ago. With Fernanda fanning the flames, his hatred turned volcanic.

He dangled my foster father's medical bills over my head, forced me to beg, trapped me in a cruel marriage, and—to avenge Fernanda—had me locked away.

While I wasted away in a filthy cell, he was by Fernanda's side, carefully tending to her, desperately searching for a matching donor.

***

Remington wheeled Fernanda out of the studio and pulled a velvet box from the car. "You said you loved this ruby pendant. It's yours now."

Her eyes lit up like wildfire. "You're really giving it to me?"

He hesitated for a few seconds, then unclasped the chain. "I promised you—I'll give you anything you want."

As he fastened the chain around her slender neck, a dull ache bloomed in my chest.

That was mine.

It was the only thing my grandma ever gave me when I returned to the Lopez family.

In that cold household, my grandma was the only one who truly loved me.

She stood up for me when no one else did.

She died less than a year after I came home.

The ruby pendant was the only thing she left me—the only warmth I had left from her.

Remington knew exactly what it meant to me. Yet he still gave it to Fernanda. I knew he really did hate me down to his bones.

Fernanda caressed the gleaming stone, joy barely contained. Then her lips quivered. "Maybe I shouldn't... If Katharine finds out I took her grandmother's treasure, she'll hate me even more. She'll hurt me again."

Remington's face turned thunderous. "Madam Lopez was your grandma too. It's only right it comes back to you. If she dares lay a hand on you again, I'll make sure she never gets out of prison."

He lifted Fernanda's hand to his lips, brushing a reverent kiss across her knuckles. "Ferna, thank you for not abandoning me that night six years ago. I'll find the best doctors. Your legs will dance again."

Fernanda lowered her head, pretending to blush, but I knew it was guilt that made her hide her face.

Because the one who left him to die wasn't me—it was her.

A hollow laugh escaped my chest.

One lie, and she stole everything I'd bled for.

Afraid the truth might slip out, Fernanda quickly changed the subject. "Remy, it's not that I don't want the pendant... It's just—my illness is getting worse. I might not have long. Giving it to me would be a waste."

Remington squeezed her hand, something stormy brewing in his gaze. "Don't worry. The hospital confirmed Katharine's marrow is a perfect match. I'll make sure she agrees to the donation."

A dull ache throbbed in my chest.

So that was all I ever was to him: a spare part for Fernanda.

I smiled bitterly as I thought, "Sorry, Remington. Not this time.

"Dead girls can't donate bone marrow..."

Three days later, Remington marched back into the prison.

A full year had passed since his last visit.

He flicked a crisp business card at Eva Atkinson, the female guard, his expression cold and unyielding. "I'm here to see Katharine."

Eva met his stare with cool detachment. "Mr. Cohen, she doesn't want to see you. Go home."

I'd made her promise to say that before I breathed my last.

Years of being bled like a slaughterhouse calf for Fernanda had hollowed me out.

Then, less than a month into my sentence, Remington sent his people to drain me again. Two months of that torture, and my body simply gave up.

Before the death took me, I'd clutched Eva's hand. "If Remington ever comes... tell him I never want to see him again."

Eva had sighed, pity softening her eyes. "You know, Ms. Lopez, just apologize. He'd bail you out in a heartbeat."

I'd laughed until it hurt. "If it were that easy, he wouldn't have put me here himself."

Besides, even if I'd walked free, where would I go?

My foster mother had remarried and vanished. My foster father, Terrell Dobson, was dead.

My biological parents treated me like trash they'd accidentally taken in with the groceries.

The only person who ever loved me—my grandma—was long in the ground.

And the man I'd loved? He'd only slipped that ring on my finger to watch me bleed slower.

Freedom meant nothing when there was no home left to run to.

***

Eva kept her word.

She never breathed a syllable about my death.

Remington's jaw clenched, patience fraying. "That's what she said?"

Eva nodded. "She won't see you, Mr. Cohen. Please leave."

He didn't buy it for a second.

Phone in hand, he dialed the warden.

Thirty seconds later, Eva's superior was barking orders in her ear to cooperate.

She exhaled, defeated. "Mr. Cohen... Ms. Lopez is dead."

Remington froze for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. "Locked up for a year, and she still hasn't learned her lesson. What, now she's even got you people playing along with her tricks?"

He leaned in, voice dripping venom. "Go tell her this: if she doesn't walk out with me today, she'll rot in here till the walls crumble."

He was furious, absolutely certain I was in cahoots with the prison staff.

Eva tried again, softer this time. "Sir, we're not joking. Ms. Lopez is dead. She passed away a year ago."

"Enough!" he snapped, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"What'd she pay you? She's healthy as a horse, living easy behind bars—how the hell could she just drop dead?"

He didn't even realize his own voice was shaking with an emotion that wasn't pure anger.

My throat ached with unsaid words.

He didn't know that for eight years, I'd been Fernanda's personal blood bank.

He didn't know that the money he'd spent on his medical bills after that accident had come from me. I'd earned every cent on blistered feet, working graveyard shifts while my vision blurred from blood loss.

And he definitely didn't know about the tiny life flickering inside me when I finally shattered.

***

Remington was convinced this was my grand escape act.

When I didn't appear, his face twisted into something feral.

He spun toward his bodyguards. "Go in and drag her out."

Then he stalked off to the side, yanking a cigarette from the pack with shaking fingers.

But the lighter refused to work. Again and again, he flicked it, the small flame refusing to spark to life.

Finally, with a curse, he threw both the lighter and the unlit cigarette onto the ground.

Minutes later, the guards returned empty-handed.

Remington's roar could've shattered marble. "Where the hell is she?"

One bodyguard swallowed hard. "We... we searched everywhere, sir. Mrs. Herrera—she's not there."

"You useless pieces of..."

They would never find me.

It was hard enough to find a living person.

How could they possibly find someone who had already turned to dust?

Remington dragged in a ragged breath and loomed over Eva again, voice low and lethal.

"Where exactly did you stash her?"

"I told you," she said wearily, "she's gone."

"She's not dead—she's been snatched, hasn't she?" A manic laugh tore out of him, jagged and wrong.

Eva froze, unsure how to answer him.

They'd torn the prison apart.

The truth was screaming in his face, and still he refused to hear it.

Fernanda, who had followed him, was becoming frantic. Without my bone marrow, her time was running out. "Katharine doesn't know that many people. Who on earth has the pull to break her out of a place like this?"

Those words lit a dangerous spark in Remington's eyes.

Hope—wild, desperate hope—flared like a struck match.

***

Soon, he dragged his men across the city and kicked down the door of a seven-star hotel penthouse suite.

This was the exact spot fate had thrown us back together after years apart.

Back then, I had just started college. Too embarrassed to ask the Lopez family for money, I'd taken a part-time job here.

The hotel treated its staff well, and guests often left generous tips. Working here had meant I could finally live without worry.

***

Remington stormed the executive office like a hurricane.

A younger man looked up from the couch, gently setting aside the young woman curled in his lap.

He stood, all lazy confidence. "Something I can do for you, Mr. Cohen?"

He was Humphrey Schultz, the owner of the hotel.

He was one of the few people who had ever offered me kindness.

Years ago, after one of Fernanda's transfusions, I had fainted outside the hospital. Humphrey had found me and taken me to safety.

Thinking I'd been selling my blood to survive, he'd handed me his card and told me to come work for him.

For four years, the money I earned at his hotel had paid for my tuition, my meals, and my life.

Now here we were, worlds apart again.

Remington didn't bother with explanations. He fisted Humphrey's collar and slammed him against the desk. "Where is she?"

Humphrey's brow arched. "Your wife runs off, and you come shaking me down? Real classy, Mr. Cohen."

In Chicago, Humphrey was the only man who dared stand up to Remington.

Back when my foster father, Terrell, had been dying and I couldn't afford his medical bills, Remington had spread word across the city—whoever lent me money would be considered his enemy.

Humphrey hadn't cared. In front of everyone, he'd handed me 10 thousand dollars.

When he later found out I was being used as Fernanda's blood source, he even tried to help me escape abroad.

But Remington's reach was too long. Before I could even board the plane, his men dragged me back.

After that, Remington crushed the Schultz family business piece by piece, punishing them for Humphrey's defiance.

I'd cut all ties with Humphrey, terrified of dragging him down with me.

***

Remington's knuckles whitened around the fabric. "I'm done playing games. No one else would dare take her out of that prison but you!"

Fernanda rolled closer, voice dripping honeyed venom.

"Mr. Schultz, we all know you've got a soft spot for Katharine. You've helped her behind Remy's back plenty. But she's married. Hiding another man's wife... doesn't look good, does it?"

Remington's face went cold and dark, his jaw tight.

That was Fernanda—sweet as arsenic, always pouring gasoline on the fire.

She wanted him to picture me tangled in Humphrey's sheets, wanted his hatred to burn hotter, and wanted me erased.

However, I was already ash.

And no matter how much they raged, there was nothing left of me for them to break.

Humphrey's eyes widened, shock rippling across his features. "Prison? When the hell did Katharine go to prison?"

Remington barked out a laugh that could've flayed skin. "Humphrey, you're wasting that Oscar-worthy talent. Come on, you really think you can keep her hidden forever?"

He paused, eyes raking the suite like a predator scenting blood.

Not seeing any trace of me, his smile went cold and ominous. "I'll make you personally return her to my place."

With that, he shoved Humphrey away and strode off.

Fernanda, afraid Humphrey really had spirited me away, immediately leaned into Remington's arms and baited him.

"Remy, maybe just let it go. Katharine and Humphrey have always been so... perfectly matched. If he finds out you only want her for my bone marrow, he'll never hand her over. Let's just drop it."

"Perfectly matched?" Remington snarled, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. "That bastard threw her a few crumbs of kindness, and she mistook it for love? She's pathetic!"

The words lashed out before he could stop them.

Then he pinched the bridge of his nose, voice ragged. "Don't worry about the marrow. I'll have Humphrey delivering her gift-wrapped."

"Okay," Fernanda hummed, a secret smile curling beneath her lashes.

***

Remington's full-scale assault began the very next day.

To force Humphrey, he used his immense power to launch a series of vicious commercial sanctions and retaliatory attacks against the Schultz family's assets.

I knew he had power now, but even I hadn't expected that in less than half a month he could shove the Schultz empire into a crisis this deep.

Schultz Group stock hemorrhaged value overnight. Board members fled like rats from a burning ship.

Glenn Schultz, realizing Remington had moved against them, rushed over begging for peace. "Young man, you don't destroy a family over a lovers' quarrel.

"We've coexisted peacefully for decades—no land grabs, no turf wars. Why come after us like that?"

Remington leaned back, smirk sharp as a scalpel. "Peaceful? You steal property, and Humphrey steals a man's wife. All I'm doing is providing a necessary lesson!"

Glenn's face was livid with rage. He slammed the door so hard the frame cracked.

A few steps into the hallway, his heart gave out. He crumpled like a marionette with cut strings.

***

I hovered above the chaos, fury, and grief braiding tight around my ribs.

I wanted to scream, to shatter every window in his office, but all I could do was watch.

"See this, Katharine?" he muttered. "This is what happens when other men play hero for you. This is the price of leaving me."

Remington stared at the spiraling stock prices on his screen, his gaze venomous and glacial.

Hearing the hate in his voice made my eyes sting.

I wondered, briefly, if he ever realized I was actually dead—would he stop hating me?

Would he grieve?

Then I sighed. I knew he wouldn't.

In his story, I was the gold-digging traitor who abandoned her dying foster father, dumped him for a richer future, and stood by while Fernanda saved him.

Less than a week later, Fernanda's condition nosedived.

Remington dropped every weapon aimed at the Schultzes and tore across the city to the hospital.

I was tethered to him by some cruel cosmic leash, dragged along like smoke in his wake.

"Remy, have you found Katharine?"

The second he pushed through the ICU doors, Gracelynn and Brennen Lopez swarmed him.

"The doctors said we can't delay the transplant—without a marrow replacement, Fernanda won't make it past two months!"

Their faces were gaunt, eyes sunken from sleepless nights at their darling's bedside.

Seeing them pour every ounce of love into the girl they raised while treating their own flesh and blood like a disposable IV bag carved fresh wounds across my heart.

They sucked my blood like it was nothing.

Even when I fainted, they still drew from me.

Even when I was hurt, they never once asked if I was okay.

I had been a tool—summoned only when needed.

Remington's jaw clenched tight.

He didn't spare them a word—just strode to the bed.

Fernanda's fingers clutched his the moment he appeared, tears spilling like pearls. "Remy... I thought I'd never see you again."

Her sobs were beautiful, practiced, and heartbreaking.

I knew the truth: she wasn't crying over him. She was crying because death was breathing down her neck.

Remington patted her back. "Hey, don't be ridiculous. I'm right here."

"But the doctors said—said if I don't get the transplant soon, I won't make it another month... I'm so scared, Remy. Scared I'll never see you again, never see my mom and my dad..."

"It's going to be okay," he murmured.

Then his eyes hardened into steel. "The Schultz Group is on its knees. Humphrey will bring her to me within days."

"Really?"

Fernanda's tears dried up almost immediately.

Color flooded her cheeks, sudden and vivid.

Remington's voice softened as he said, "I've already lined up the best orthopedic surgeon in the country. Once the marrow's in, he'll fix your legs."

Fernanda nodded and leaned against him, smiling with a sweetness that made bile rise in my throat.

I hovered above them, feeling amused.

I couldn't wait for the moment she realized the marrow she'd been waiting for was nothing but ashes now.

After all the harm she'd done to me over the years in the Lopez household, I found myself craving that reckoning.

Oh, I was counting down the seconds until her perfect world shattered.

***

Three days later, Schultz Group collapsed like a house of cards in a hurricane.

Soon after, Humphrey himself appeared at the mansion.

I was momentarily stunned when I saw him.

His face was etched with exhaustion, his chin shadowed with unshaven stubble, and his eyes were heavily bloodshot.

He must have been fighting Remington's ruthless attack with everything he had.

But the Cohen family's power was overwhelming; no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't defeat them.

Seeing Humphrey defeated broke my heart with guilt.

He had done nothing wrong, yet his family was ruined by Remington's revenge. Now, the man who had always been so proud was finally forced to bow to reality.

He stopped in front of Remington's desk, voice stripped raw. "Tell me what you want. Name your price to call off the dogs."

Remington swiveled in his chair, long fingers drumming a slow, mocking rhythm on the polished wood. A cruel smile curved his mouth. "Price?" He leaned forward. "The day you stole her from that prison, you should've known the bill would come due."

Humphrey raised his voice in desperation. "I didn't take Katharine. Hell, I didn't even know she was in prison."

After that failed escape to Europe, we'd gone radio silent.

He had no idea I'd been locked up or that I had already died behind those cold bars.

Remington wasn't buying a word. "Who else in this goddamn city has the balls to snatch her from under my nose?"

He seized Humphrey by the throat of his thousand-dollar shirt and drove a fist into his face.

I panicked and rushed forward to stop him, but his fist went straight through me. Humphrey crashed to the floor with a heavy thud.

Remington towered over him, teeth bared. "I'm running out of patience. If you want your family's legacy to survive the week, you'll deliver Katharine to my door by midnight."

It was his final warning.

Humphrey let out a cold laugh. "You threw Katharine into prison for Fernanda, didn't you? And now you're desperate to find her because you need her marrow for Fernanda, right?

He backed away, eyes blazing with contempt. "Fernanda stole Katharine's entire life. If she dies screaming, she's earned it. You want to know where I hid her? Go dig, Remington. Go find her with your pathetic power!"

Tears stung my eyes so hard the room blurred.

For the first time, someone had spoken my rage out loud.

All those years of swallowing screams, and finally—finally—someone saw the theft for what it was.

***

The moment Humphrey left, Remington snapped.

He swept everything off his desk in a violent crash.

I thought the rampage might satisfy him.

Instead, he doubled down.

He began spreading rumors, deliberately smearing the Schultz Group's name.

Within a month, the company's market value evaporated by hundreds of millions of dollars.

One noon, he stared at the carnage on his monitors and muttered to the empty room, "Come on, Katharine. You always were soft-hearted. Watching an empire burn because of you must make you feel like hell. How could that still not be enough to force you out?"

I offered a weary, bitter smile. He was leaving no stone unturned to save his precious Fernanda.

He kept tightening his grip, escalating his attacks from business suppression to complete takeover.

And I could do nothing—nothing but watch him destroy the Schultz family step by step.

I hated Remington with every fiber of my being. I screamed, I shouted, and I pounded on him with all my strength.

But I was nothing more than a spirit—my fists passed through him like air.

He couldn't hear my cries, couldn't feel my rage.

Then, after a hundred futile tries, I focused every shred of will on a porcelain vase atop his bookshelf. It teetered, wobbled—and crashed.

The explosion of shards made Remington snap his head up.

I froze, stunned. I'd actually done it.

He walked over slowly, eyes fixed on the shards. For a long moment, he said nothing. His gaze wavered, as if something in him had been disturbed.

Then he muttered to his assistant, "Call someone to clean this up."

Then he stalked back to his throne, but this time, he was restless, unable to focus.

Seeing that he'd stopped plotting how to deliver the final blow to the Schultz Group, I quietly exhaled in relief.

It was the weekend. Around five in the morning, Remington shot upright in bed.

A nightmare had ripped him awake.

Whatever he'd seen left him shaking like a man who'd stared into his own grave.

Glancing at his phone, he suddenly leapt up, grabbed his coat, and bolted out the door.

I thought something had happened to Fernanda again, so I followed him.

Instead, the car screeched to a halt outside the Schultz's mansion—now draped in black bunting and white lilies. Mourners spilled across the lawn like spilled ink.

The sight hit me like a punch to the chest.

Someone had died.

The closer I went, the heavier my heart grew.

Humphrey stood beside an open casket. Inside lay an elderly man in his eighties.

From the whispers around me, I pieced it together—Glenn had gone to beg Remington once more to spare the Schultz Group, but he'd been in a car accident on the way. He never made it back.

Remington walked up and looked quietly at the man's peaceful face.

Humphrey's cold laugh broke the silence. "Mr. Cohen, what's this—coming to pay respects, or coming to bargain?"

Remington turned to him, eyes dark and domineering. "Tell me where she is, and I'll call off the takeover."

I cursed him silently.

Glenn was dead because of him, and still he dangled salvation like a noose.

Humphrey's voice went flat, cold. "You'll never see her again, Remington. And Fernanda? She's going to die choking on the life she stole."

He lifted his head, the light gone from his eyes. "You already know she's dead, don't you? You just refuse to admit it—because then your little angel's last lifeline snaps."

Remington staggered back as if Humphrey had buried a blade between his ribs.

Humphrey didn't say another word—only let out a hollow, self-mocking laugh.

In a way, their duel had ended. And Humphrey, though beaten down, hadn't really lost.

When Remington walked out of the Schultz's mansion, he looked dazed, hollow.

He drove aimlessly down the highway, like a man trying to outrun his own shadow. Several times, he nearly crashed into something.

"Look out!"

I screamed when a truck roared toward him.

But of course, he couldn't hear me. He only pressed harder on the accelerator.

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop outside the prison gates again.

He sat there, engine ticking, and lit a cigarette with shaking hands.

He was terrified—terrified I really was gone and Fernanda would follow.

The ember trembled between his fingers; ash crumbled onto his tailored trousers, and he didn't even flinch.

I laughed, but it came out as a sob. Jealousy clawed at my ribs like a living thing.

Fernanda—the Lopez family's pampered little cuckoo—had everyone wrapped around her finger.

One tear from her and the world rushed to dry it. One bruise and armies mobilized. One illness, and men tore cities apart to save her.

Me? I was nothing but the spare battery kept on ice until her heart needed a jump.

***

After chain-smoking half a pack, he crushed the last butt under his heel and strode toward the prison doors.

It had been more than a month since his last visit.

Eva spotted him, startled, then dipped her head. "Mr. Cohen."

Remington didn't answer. He stood there in silence for a moment before speaking in a low voice. "Tell her if she comes back on her own, no questions asked. Whatever she wants—I'll give it to her. Even if she wants..."

He paused, his voice dropping to a hoarse, broken whisper. "Even if she wants a divorce... I'll sign the papers."

Once upon a time, those words would have sent me soaring.

Now? They were just ashes in my mouth.

It was too late. Far too late.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I'd been terrified that if I stayed in the country and kept giving Fernanda blood, I might lose the baby. So I'd brought up divorce with him more than once.

But he had assumed I only wanted out so I could be with Humphrey. He'd laughed coldly and said, "Unless you're dead, I'll never divorce you."

Later, Fernanda somehow learned about my pregnancy.

Terrified that once she gave birth, Remington might soften toward her, she deliberately threw herself down from the second floor.

Remington believed I'd pushed her, exploding in fury and having me thrown in prison.

Looking back now, his words had come true in the cruelest way.

Eva sighed helplessly. "Mr. Cohen, we truly haven't hidden Ms. Lopez away. She's really gone..."

Then she stepped into a room and came back holding something in her arms.

She said, "I'd promised Ms. Lopez to scatter her ashes into the sea after her death. But as her husband, you have the right to handle her remains."

Eva paused, her voice thick with emotion. "These... these are her ashes..."

My eyes widened in shock.

I'd thought Eva had already scattered them into the ocean. I hadn't expected her to keep them.

I turned toward Remington, panic rising inside me. But he stumbled backward, his voice shaking uncontrollably. "No... that's impossible!"

A lump formed in my throat, choking me.

I hoped, for the sake of our two years as husband and wife, that he'd at least scatter my ashes or find a peaceful spot to bury them.

I prayed he wouldn't keep me tethered to him forever.

Remington growled low, his face twisted in denial. "You're messing with me, aren't you? This is a sick joke!"

I smiled bitterly. "Remington, face the truth."

"Mr. Cohen, you need to face the truth," another voice said at the same time.

I glanced over and saw the warden approaching with a stern expression.

He clapped Remington on the shoulder. "I've checked—nobody took Katharine away. The surveillance footage captures her final moments before she passed."

Remington shook his head, mumbling, "No... that's not possible."