Chapter Colin Adams
COLIN ADAMS
I searched the mansion for Isabelle.
I hate admitting this, but I’m a prisoner to her. It’s become impossible for me to keep my distance from that woman, and to this day I still wonder what kind of spell she’s cast on my body—and my heart.
At first, I couldn’t stand her. Anyone could see that. Her scattered mind, her tendency to butt in at the worst possible moments—it all confirmed my first impression the day we met: She’s not going to last a week working with me.
I thought about firing her more times than I can count. And yet, somehow, I kept giving her chances—chances I’d never given anyone before her. Why? I still don’t know.
Or maybe I do, and just don’t want to say it out loud.
I fell for her. Accidentally. Completely against my will. And it wasn’t just her. Hanna came along with that innocent little smile of hers and won me over before I even realized it. I don’t even know when we became such close friends.
The first person who ever saw something good in me was Hanna. And because of her, the doors to my heart started to open again. She helped me reconnect with Joshua, and for the first time in a long while, life began to make sense again.
Then came Isabelle. The more time we spent together, the more I started to see her differently.
She cared about me—even when I did everything I could to push her away, to treat her badly, even when I threatened her job.
She was always there, saying the things no one else dared to say, forcing me to face truths I didn’t want to hear.
I hated that. Still do.
Looking someone in the eye and realizing they can see right through you—it’s not a good feeling. You can’t even argue back, because they already know who you are and why you’ve built these walls around yourself.
My biggest mistake—the only one I can’t deny—was kissing her that first time. It woke up something inside me that I thought had died. For the first time since Jeniffer’s death, I actually felt alive again. And somehow, little by little, I started to change.
The anger wasn’t as constant anymore. The moments with Joshua, Hanna, and Isabelle became the highlights of my days. Of course, nothing could erase the pain of losing my daughter, but at least I didn’t have to live inside that grief every single day.
Isabelle became my escape valve—the woman who made me see that the world isn’t made solely of anger and pain.
After turning down one of the hallways, I spotted her. The moment she saw me, she changed directions, putting distance between us. She was probably buried in work, though the last few times we’d been alone, things had ended... in bed.
For several minutes, I “chased” her, but she always found a way to slip out of sight. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. When I noticed she was heading toward the kitchen, I took a different route—and a few minutes later, we nearly collided.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve got a lot of work.” She tried to brush past me, but something felt off.
“Isabelle…” I took her hands, and she immediately pulled away.
“You’re not gonna tell me what’s wrong? Is it... because of today?” I asked, hesitating.
She knows this is the day I leave the house and come back... different. I’m sure she’s memorized the dates—most of the staff have.
Isabelle’s eyes locked on mine, and that look alone answered my question.
“I want to hear the truth from you,” she said quietly. “Where do you go when you leave those gates? And what really happened to your wife? You never talk about her.”
“That question again?” I dropped my hands. “It’s none of your business. How many times do I have to say that?”
“I need to hear the truth. All of it.”
The way she said it made me think she already knew something—but that was impossible.
“You need to? Don’t ruin what we have.”
“If you’re not honest with me, there won’t be an ‘us’ anymore.”
Her expression hardened, her tone changing completely. She was determined now, and I could see it.
“My past has nothing to do with you,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm.
“Then I guess your present with me doesn’t matter enough,” she shot back, firm and unwavering.
“I don’t have to—nor will I—have this conversation with you.”
I walked out of the kitchen, but inside, I wasn’t okay.
For the first time, her words had really gotten to me.
I wasn’t comfortable coming here. Not anymore.
Visiting someone who only brings back the worst memories makes no sense. Only a masochist would willingly relive a past that refuses to leave their mind.
And yet, here I am—waiting for Kurt.
The man who destroyed my dreams.
The man directly responsible for Maddison’s death... and, by consequence, Jeniffer’s.
“That’s never going to change,” he said, meeting my eyes.
“Was that a question?”
“No. A statement.”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t need to.
Satisfaction isn’t something I hand out freely—and certainly not to someone I despise with every fiber of my being.
“I’m sorry. I regret what I did.” He lowered his head.
“You say that because you’re tired of looking me in the eyes, knowing you destroyed my family. You don’t keep saying it out of guilt—you’re just tired of living with your own humiliation.”
“What do you want from me? I’m going to be here for the rest of my life!”
“You know... it took me a while to realize Jeniffer was cheating on me—with you,” I said, ignoring his question. “That was my mistake. I introduced you two. Why would I ever suspect my best friend?”
“Colin—”
“Shut up!” I snapped. “You’re the embodiment of everything rotten in my life. You’re the reason I can’t trust anyone anymore.”
“I screwed up, and I own that.”
I laughed—bitterly. If it had been a simple mistake, maybe I could’ve understood.
Cheating is almost commonplace nowadays. Disgusting, yes, but part of human nature, it seems—to betray the trust of someone who loves you. I despise it, but my opinion won’t change a world already rotting at its core.
“How could I ever suspect Kurt O’Neal, my best friend? That would’ve been unthinkable. But fate made sure to connect the dots for me.”
Strange as it sounds, I found out about my wife’s affair with my best friend completely by accident.
I was walking through the mall—something I rarely did—and spotted Kurt heading toward a store. I picked up my pace, planning to greet him and talk for a bit. I wanted to open up about my marriage falling apart—because who better to talk to than your best friend, right?
We’d been distant that month, but I blamed work. I was certain it wasn’t his fault. I just needed his advice—to figure out how my marriage had sunk so low.
But fate—if that’s even the right word—decided to intervene. About twenty yards away, I saw Jeniffer walking toward Kurt. At first, I thought nothing of it—they were close friends, too. But then things changed, and it all clicked in under five minutes.
Hand in hand.
His fingers brushing through her hair. His thumb on her cheek.
A kiss on the forehead. I didn’t need more than that to understand exactly what was happening.
But the final blow—the one that shattered whatever denial I had left—was the passionate kiss that followed.
I rarely froze in the face of anything. But that day... I did.
And honestly? Maybe it was for the best that I saw it.
I didn’t know how to react to such a double betrayal. I’d been made a fool of. Twice.
Betrayal by a friend is still betrayal. Period.
For a week, I kept it all to myself—replayed that scene over and over, until it became a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
And that’s when everything began to fall apart.
That’s when I made the choices that ruined my life.
Whether I like it or not... I was indirectly responsible for my daughter’s death.
For Jeniffer’s death.
“I loved Jeniffer with everything I had. You have to understand…”
“You betrayed my trust!” I slammed my fist on the table. “You killed her—and my daughter! I’ll never forgive you!”
Yes. He was the one who caused their deaths.
When I say I was indirectly responsible, I mean that something I did set the whole damn thing in motion.
My anger had consumed me to the point where I refused to go through with the divorce, dragging it out for months. It wasn’t because I wanted to stay with Jeniffer—God, no. That wasn’t it.
I didn’t throw what I’d seen in her face during those months.
I was afraid that if I started talking, I’d lose control…
maybe even strangle her. In the end, though, I told her why I wouldn’t sign the divorce papers—and I’ll never forget the look on her face when she realized I knew about the affair.
“That thing with the car... it was a mistake. Something I regret every single day of my life,” he stammered before breaking down in tears.
No, I didn’t feel sorry for him. Not for a second. Part of me wished he were suffering more. Death would’ve been too easy—living means he gets to hurt, and deep down, that’s exactly what I wanted for him.
To sum it up? They both planned to kill me.
That’s why Kurt’s in prison, serving life.
The problem is, because of my wife’s breakdown that day, she’s the one who died—and she took a piece of me with her when Maddison got caught in it.
Jeniffer and I had gotten into an ugly fight that day.
Like I said before, I’d refused the divorce at first. But things had gotten so bad—so toxic for the kids—that I finally started to reconsider.
I was ready to let go… until Jeniffer dragged our children into the argument. That, I couldn’t accept.
She hadn’t been the most present mother, but the kids were deeply attached to her—and I never saw that as a bad thing. She always tried to make up for her absence, splitting herself between work and motherhood just to be there for Joshua and Maddison.
But what lit the fuse for that final fight was her demand that the kids stay with her, allowing me only five days a month. That was it. I lost it. I told her, “You’ll only get that over my dead body.”
And she replied, “Then so be it.”
Of course, I never imagined she’d actually try to do something about it. I thought it was just another heated argument—part of our routine by then. Even though we were still living under the same roof, we’d been sleeping in separate rooms for months.
But a month later…
The fights kept coming—mostly about custody. Then Jeniffer did something reckless. She grabbed Maddison and left the house. She was supposed to pick up Joshua from soccer practice afterward, but she never made it there.
The crash happened on the highway, just two kilometers from the mansion. Both of them died instantly.
At first, I thought it was just a tragic mistake—that she’d been upset after our argument and lost control. I blamed myself every single day. I fell into a deep depression. I had nothing left in me, but I had to keep going—for Joshua.
He was devastated. In therapy. Every time he got into a car after the accident, he’d break down, screaming, sobbing uncontrollably. I spent countless nights sleeping in his room, only to wake up to his screams. The nightmare was always the same—he was in a car, falling off a cliff.
I didn’t know how to help him anymore. But the worst part came three months later, when I finally learned the truth about the accident.
It was him. Kurt.
He’d planned everything—rigged the car—never realizing Jeniffer would be the one behind the wheel that day.
Yes, she knew—and that’s what makes it worse, at least from where I stand.
An official inquiry was opened, and the investigation was thorough. It was proven that the two of them had planned my death together. The audio recordings between them didn’t lie.
Jeniffer’s fatal mistake was going two hours without checking her phone.
There was an unheard voice message from Kurt—one where he explained which car in the mansion’s garage he’d tampered with.
In that same message, he told her to make sure I used the car, since lately, she’d been the one driving it instead of me.
That was Jeniffer’s fatal error. We had five cars in the garage, and all of us used them interchangeably. None of them belonged to a specific person.
“You two planned my death for almost a month,” I said through gritted teeth, “and in the end, you killed my daughter—an innocent child who had nothing to do with any of this. You ripped a piece of my heart out.”
The rage in my voice was so strong that I didn’t even realize tears were falling—just from one eye—as I stared at the man who had destroyed my life.
“I’m paying for what I did,” he muttered.
“No... you haven’t paid anything yet. And I’ll make damn sure you remember every single day why you’re here.”
“I can’t take the beatings anymore. Please, stop this! I’m begging you!”
“We’re done talking for today.”
I stood up. My head was spinning, my chest tight. I needed air—fresh air—before I lost it completely.