Chapter 12 Destruction
James was on his feet in an instant. “Where?”
“She’s still in Manhattan,” Neil replied. “Her last known location was near the Veilwind highway.”
James’s expression hardened. Straightening his suit jacket, he said in a cold, clipped tone, “Tell William to bring the car to the entrance.” His jaw clenched, and his voice dropped lower. “I’m going to get her back myself!”
James strode out of the bar. Neil followed closely behind as they stepped out into the cool night air.
The black Mercedes was already waiting at the entrance.
James slid into the back seat, Neil following close behind.
William started the engine, and the car sped through the busy Manhattan streets, headlights cutting through the darkness.
For nearly two hours, no one spoke. Only the low hum of the car and the pings of the GPS map filled the silence. Finally, the car slowed to a stop.
James immediately opened the door and stepped out, his shoes clicking sharply against the wet pavement. Neil hurried after him, catching up just as James began to stride forward, his expression dark.
“James, wait,” Neil said firmly, grabbing his arm.
James turned sharply, his eyes blazing.
“You need to calm down,” Neil urged. “You’re too angry. You don’t know what you’re about to find out. Just… prepare yourself first.”
James’s voice came out rough and biting. “What the hell am I supposed to prepare for?” he snapped. “She’s the one who disappeared without a word! It’s been more than a month, Neil. What exactly do I need to be prepared for?”
He wrenched his arm free and started to storm off again, but Neil stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“James, listen to me!” he said, gripping his arm harder. “If you see her like this—angry, drunk, worked up, you’ll only make things worse. Calm down first. Think before you face her. You have to keep your head straight.”
James froze, chest rising and falling harshly. His teeth clenched, but Neil’s words managed to cut through the haze of alcohol and rage clouding his mind.
For a moment, his thoughts flickered, memories flooding in.
Mia’s quiet smile when she brought him coffee late at night. The faint scent of her perfume lingering when she left the room. The little notes she used to leave on his desk. Her bringing flowers into his study to make it less cold. The way she would linger in the doorway, thinking he didn’t notice.
He had noticed. He always did.
His jaw loosened, and the anger in his eyes softened just slightly.
He took a slow breath and muttered under his breath, “Fine.” Then, after a pause, he added with a bitter exhale, “After all, we were married for five years… I’ll give her another chance.”
Finally, he walked away from the car and looked around. There was nothing around but darkness. The road stretched out in an empty ribbon between trees; no houses, no streetlights—just an open, lonely stretch.
James scanned the empty tarmac and then whirled to Neil. “What the fuck is going on? Where is she?” he demanded.
Neil’s voice was low. “This is her last known location.”
“What the hell do you mean? How can she—?” James snapped, panic sharpening his words. “Is she living on the streets?!” James’s breath came quick and ragged.
Neil took a breath, pulled up the clip on his phone, and turned the screen so James could see. James stepped forward and snatched the device, his face tense as he played the video. William also edged closer, leaning in.
On the screen, the footage showed Mia walking down a dimly lit street.
Two men appeared from the shadows, grabbing her roughly.
She tried to fight back, but one of them struck her hard.
They snatched her belongings, dragging her as she struggled, then fled when a beggar woman came shouting from a distance.
James went completely still when he watched Mia fall to the ground, blood dripping from her head, her face contorted in pain.
His body locked, muscles tight, as a wave of dizziness hit him.
The sound around him faded into a low, white noise buzzing in his ears.
He couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen.
“What is this?” His voice cracked, barely a whisper. His hands trembled; his face drained of color.
“Keep watching,” Neil said quietly.
James’s hand tightened around the phone. He continued to watch—The woman in the footage calling someone, Mia limping barefoot, her head bleeding, her face pale and bruised. The video ended with Mia stumbling, disappearing into the darkness.
His breath hitched. His knees nearly gave out, and he stumbled back, the color draining from his face.
And then, like a cruel echo, Mrs. Maisel’s words replayed in his mind.
‘Mr. Sinclair… if you lose Madam, you might regret it for the rest of your life.’
He had answered coldly then—‘I won’t regret a fucking thing. I haven’t regretted anything in my entire life. What is a woman? Nothing. She’s nothing. From now on, no one in this house will even say her name. If she wants to die on the streets, then let her die alone.’
Now those words came back like a physical blow.
The memory stabbed through his chest. His entire body trembled, tension choking him. He shoved Neil’s hand off his shoulder and stumbled backward, panic overtaking reason.
He burst out into the street, spinning wildly, eyes scanning every direction as his voice cracked with raw desperation.
“Mia?!” he shouted, his voice breaking through the night.
Silence answered.
He ran up and down the stretch, phone clutched and replaying the clip, hoping for another frame, a clue. The lamp posts threw long, empty shadows. There was nothing. No footprints, no movement, no sign.
When he turned again toward Neil, his voice was raw. “This video—who filmed this? Where did she go?”
Neil grabbed his shoulder firmly, forcing him to stop and breathe. “Don’t lose it, James. This footage is from a road surveillance camera. This is as far as it goes. We don’t know what happened after. Maybe it’s staged, maybe not. There’s no way to know everything from just this.”
James’s chest rose and fell heavily. His eyes flickered toward Neil, the sharp panic in them softening just a fraction. His heart was still thundering, but the rhythm steadied slightly. His fingers unclenched from his palms, his trembling legs stiffening with renewed control.
He drew in a sharp breath, his jaw locking as he muttered, voice low and cold, “You’re right.
” Then, after a pause, his lips twisted bitterly.
“She’s doing this on purpose. She’s taking revenge on me.
She wants me to regret everything… to crawl to her.
” His gaze darkened, veins visible along his neck.
“Let her come out of the hole she’s buried herself in.
If she wants to play games, I’ll end them! ”
He turned back toward the car, voice clipped. “Get in. Now.”
William rushed toward the driver’s side, but before he could settle in, James shoved him aside roughly. “Move.” He slid behind the wheel, slamming the door so hard it shook.
“Mr. Graves—!” William protested, wide-eyed. “You’re drunk, sir. I can’t let you drive like this!”
Neil immediately stepped in. “William, step back,” he said, then leaned down and yanked open James’s door. The night air whipped through, cold and sharp. He grabbed James’s arm. “Get out,” he ordered. Neil grabbed him forcefully, pulling him out of the car with a rough jerk.
James jerked his arm away. “Get off me!” he barked, his voice edged with rage. “Take another fucking car for yourself. I’m leaving.”
But Neil didn’t budge. His grip only tightened. “If you drive like this and the police stop you, you’ll end up in jail before you even reach her,” he snapped. “Let William drive!”
For a second, James looked like he might punch him. His nostrils flared; his jaw ticked; his breath came fast and harsh through gritted teeth.
Finally, with a growl, he turned away. “Motherfucker!” he spat, shoving his hands through his hair before yanking the back door open and sliding in.
The air in the car shifted immediately, hot with anger and tension.
Neil followed him into the backseat, silent and tight-lipped.
William quickly climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusting his hands on the wheel.
“Drive fast,” James ordered through gritted teeth. “Drive to Mia’s old house.”
William hesitated, glancing at him through the rearview mirror. “But Mr. Graves… there’s no one th—”
“Drive!” James roared, voice echoing through the quiet night.
William flinched at the tone, exchanged a worried glance with Neil through the mirror, and pressed down on the accelerator. The car roared to life and sped down the empty road, cutting through the night.
Inside, James texted someone on his phone and then leaned back, his head against the seat, eyes staring blankly out the window. His jaw clenched and unclenched as city lights flickered across his face. His reflection in the glass looked ghostly pale.
The car skidded to a stop outside the Bennets’s house. James threw the door open and stalked out, Neil and William close behind. A sudden, metallic roar split the air, a sound that made everyone freeze. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet.
“What the hell is that?” William muttered.
Neil turned toward the noise—and froze. His eyes widened in disbelief. “What the fuck…”
A crane sat idling by the driveway, its diesel growl reverberating through the quiet street. A man in a stained jacket stood by the controls. Without warning he flicked a switch and the machine lurched forward toward the boundary wall of Mia’s parents’ property.
Neil turned to James, incredulous. “What the hell is going on?”
James didn’t answer. His expression was cold. He raised two fingers in a casual, almost contemptuous motion.
The operator glanced up, nodded, and guided the crane straight into the wall. The rumble grew louder as he steered it toward the house.