Chapter 8
Traffic roared past us on the street. People walked by laughing. Taking photos. And my whole world crumbled in silence.
My father finally spoke. His voice was broken.
“Arthur was the best man at our wedding. Your mother and I—we trusted him with everything. When Daniel came to him… Arthur came to me. Said Daniel was in trouble. Young. Made a foolish mistake in Vegas. Needed help cleaning it up before you found out.”
I stared at him. “You knew. Back then. Six years ago. You knew Daniel was already married.”
“I knew about the Vegas marriage,” he admitted. Tears glistened in his eyes. “Arthur said it was nothing. A drunken mistake. Daniel was filing annulment papers. Just needed time. Said if you found out before then… you’d leave him. And you were so happy, Sarah. I couldn’t bear to break your heart.”
“So you let him marry me anyway.” My voice shook. “You let him lie. You let him gain access to my life. To my money.”
“I told Arthur to watch him!” my father said, voice rising in desperation. “I thought he was. I trusted Arthur. But somewhere along the way… Arthur and Daniel made their own deal. Arthur helped him set up the accounts. Helped him move the money. And he kept me in the dark. Just like he kept you in the dark.”
“Did you take any of it?” I asked.
The question hung between us. Cruel and necessary.
My father flinched like I’d struck him.
“No,” he said. “God help me—I didn’t take a penny. But I failed you. I trusted the wrong man. And because of that… everything was stolen.”
A car pulled up fast to the curb beside us. Tinted windows. Engine idling.
The back window rolled down.
Arthur Sterling sat there. Smiling. Calm as ever.
Beside him—Marcus Voss.
My father stepped in front of me instinctively.
“Get away from us,” my father said.
Arthur’s voice drifted out, smooth and cool.
“Now, now. No need for unpleasantness. Get in the car. Both of you. We’re going to have a nice conversation. Clear up all those misunderstandings.”
“Go to hell,” I said.
Arthur’s smile hardened. “Daniel is losing his patience. Lauren is still out there somewhere. With half the evidence. Until we find it… none of us are safe. Now get in. Or things turn very ugly, very fast.”
He nodded toward the front seat.
The driver got out. Big man. Scar along his jaw. Opened the rear door.
My father whispered to me, barely audible. “Run. When I shove you—run. Get to the courthouse. Find the judge. Don’t look back.”
“Dad—”
“Promise me!”
The driver stepped forward. Reached for me.
My father shoved me hard.
“RUN SARAH!”
I stumbled backward, nearly falling. Then I turned and ran.
Screams behind me. Scuffling. A sickening crack.
But I didn’t look back.
I ran through crowds. Across streets. Into the courthouse. Past startled guards. Straight to the clerk’s office.
I grabbed the clerk’s desk, breathless, terrified.
“Help me. Call the police. There are men—”
She looked past me. Her face went white.
I turned.
May you like
Arthur stood ten feet away. Hands in his pockets. Smiling.
“Enough running, Sarah,” he said calmly. “We’re on the same side. Whether you like it or not.”
