Chapter 46
GRACE
From the moment Asher returns from the gala, everything is different. We sleep in bed together, but he tosses and turns, something clearly weighing on him. And the next morning, when he tells me he’s interim CEO, my stomach drops.
It should be exciting. This is what he’s been working for, the entire reason we started this whole charade in the first place... But it doesn’t feel that way.
It feels like the beginning of the end.
Now that he’s gotten what he wanted, what does he need me for?
He goes into the office that day, and the following.
And for the next week, I only see him at night, once he’s crawled into bed, exhausted.
The first few nights, I tried to wait up for him, but it became clear he wasn’t rushing to get home.
There’s been no intimacy, no rewards for my writing days, none of the sweet or sexy moments that we previously shared.
"Do you think he'll be okay?" I ask Wallace a week later as he drives me home from dinner with Asher’s family. An awkward and tense dinner in which Leonard pestered Asher with questions and demands about the business, and I tried not to ask the question that sat on the tip of my tongue… Are the accusations true? For Asher’s sake, I didn’t want to stir up more issues.
My husband already looks like a ghost of himself, dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep.
He sent me home after the dinner, so he and his father could continue talking business.
I didn’t argue because I didn’t want to be there, even if I do want to support him.
Wallace meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, and I catch the flicker of uncertainty that crosses his weathered features before he schools his expression back to professional calm.
"I'm sure he will, Mrs. Caine," he says, but the words feel hollow.
The doubt in his eyes tells a different story, and we both know it.
Asher’s working himself to the bone. Ever since the scholarship recipient at the gala, Sabrina, spoke of how Leonard used her mother and discarded her when it no longer served him, the company’s been in crisis.
The family has been all over the news, and the stock price has dropped.
I replay the woman's story in my head daily. She seemed filled with grief and anger as she recounted what they suffered because of him. I wish I could hug her and help her through this time in her life.
Wallace navigates through the evening traffic with ease while my fingers twist at the pearls around my neck.
Filled with anxiety, we arrive back at the Sanctum hotel, its art deco elegance rising into the darkening sky like a monument. Somewhere above us, Asher's penthouse sits empty, and the thought of being up there alone and waiting for him has my stomach twisting into knots.
I wish he would have just left with me.
That thought lingers in my head. When did I go from doing this for the money to actually caring about him? Somewhere along the way, things changed, and this arrangement went from being fake to… something deeper.
"Mrs. Caine." Wallace takes a deep breath before saying my name, and I redirect my attention to him.
"I've worked for your husband for a long time, so I've seen how his family can be…
but he always gets through it. I wouldn't worry yourself too much.
" He gives me a comforting smile through the reflection of the rearview mirror, and I want to believe him. That we’ll get through this and everything will be okay.
In the next moment, three things happen so quickly it feels like I barely have a chance to open my mouth and scream before the damage is done.
First, the door to my left swings open, and a person clad in all black slides into the seat next to me.
Second, the person wraps a rope around Wallace's neck, pulling him taut against the driver’s seat as he grips at the material, desperately trying to free himself.
And third, the person points a gun at me.
My scream freezes in my throat, and I back myself up against the other door, heart pounding in my ears.
"Drive. Now."
My body is frozen in shock and disbelief. This can't be happening. Not here. Not to us.
Wallace hits the gas, and the car lurches forward as I try and fail to compose myself.
The spacious interior of Asher's car now feels suffocating. Wallace's eyes find mine in the rearview mirror, wide with a fear I've never seen in him before, as rough rope wraps around his throat like a serpent.
The man holds the makeshift leash with casual control, one hand managing our driver's life while the other keeps the gun trained on my chest with unwavering steadiness.
And then the person turns to me, light from passing streetlamps illuminating his face in harsh, intermittent flashes. Recognition hits me like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs and making my vision swim with disbelief.
Richard.
But not the Richard I remember. Not the polished literary agent with his crisp suits and practiced charm.
This version is a shadow of the man who once held my career in his hands.
His face is gaunt and haggard, cheekbones sharp with weight loss and stress.
Bloodshot eyes stare at me with manic intensity, surrounded by dark circles.
"Richard," I whisper, trembling with a mixture of shock and terror. "W-What are you doing?"
The question seems to ignite something volatile within him. His face contorts with rage, spittle flying from his lips as he leans forward. "You ruined my life," he snarls, the words dripping with venom. "You little cunt. You didn't even put out, but you went crying to your rich boyfriend anyway."
The crude language hits me like a slap.
"Richard—" I try again, feeling more desperate by the second.
"Shut up!" The gun jerks toward my face with violent intensity, and I flinch away from the cold metal. "You don't get to talk. You don't get to do anything except listen to what you've done."
In the driver's seat, Wallace's knuckles have gone white on the steering wheel. The rope bites into his neck with each movement, leaving angry red marks against his weathered skin.
"I lost everything because of you." Richard continues, his voice cracking with emotion.
"My job. My reputation. Everything I spent twenty years building, gone in an instant.
My wife left me. Took the kids. The house.
Even the goddamn dog won't look at me. I'm looking at spending the rest of my life in prison. Do you understand that? Prison."
Terror floods my veins like ice water, numbing my extremities and making my thoughts sluggish.
I recall what James Rock had told me at the gala, that he had multiple charges racked up.
That what he had done to me wasn't a one-time deal but a habit he repeated with many women, and now he’s facing payments for his crimes.
The only thing I don't understand is why he's here now, with me.
My hands shake uncontrollably in my lap, fingers twisting together in a futile attempt to maintain composure. I think of my phone in my purse on the floor, so close but impossibly far away. Any movement might set him off, might make this nightmare even worse.
The car moves through traffic with surreal normalcy. Other drivers chat on phones or sing along to radios, completely oblivious to the drama unfolding just feet away from them. We're surrounded by witnesses who can't see us.
"All those other women… They understood how the game worked. They knew what it took to make it in this industry. A little quid pro quo. A little gratitude for the opportunities I provided. But not you. You had to be special."
The gun wavers erratically as he talks, his grip loosening and tightening with his emotional state. Wallace flinches when the barrel swings past his head, and I hold my breath, waiting for the accidental discharge that could end everything.
"Where are we going?" Wallace asks, his voice remarkably steady despite the rope cutting into his throat. Even now, he's trying to gather information, trying to find a way out of this nightmare.
"Shut up and drive, or I'll blow her pretty head off," Richard snarls, and the casual way he threatens my life makes my blood run cold.
My breath comes in shallow gasps that fog the window beside me. The pearls at my throat feel impossibly tight, as if they're trying to choke me. Every instinct screams at me to run, to fight, to do something, but the gun keeps me frozen in place.
"Richard, please—"
"I said shut up!" He lunges forward with startling speed, pressing the barrel of the gun against my temple with enough force to leave a mark.
I freeze completely. Every muscle in my body locks as if I've been turned to stone. The cold metal bites into my skin, and I can smell the lingering scent of alcohol on his breath.
"You think you're so innocent," he hisses directly into my ear, his breath hot against my cheek. "You think you're better than me. Playing the victim. Playing the saint. But you're still a whore. You just found a richer mark to marry."
Tears burn behind my eyes, threatening to spill over, but I don't let them fall. Crying will only make him angrier, only prove his point about my weakness. My mind races frantically, searching for options, for escape routes, for anything that might get us out of this alive.
Wallace meets my gaze in the rearview mirror again, and I see his expression shift subtly. The fear is still there, but it's been joined by something else: determination.
"Please," I whisper, barely audible over the hum of the engine. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for whatever happened to you. Just let us go. Let Wallace go. He has nothing to do with this."
Richard laughs, the sound bitter and completely unhinged, the laugh of a man who’s found freedom in having nothing left to lose. "Sorry? You're sorry? You destroyed me and you're sorry?"
"I— I don't know what you’re talking about. I didn't do anything!"
"But your husband did."
His words move through my brain like molasses. So much happened the night of the gala that I almost forgot what Asher had said after James Rock told us about the charges against Richard.
Perhaps someone simply helped facilitate the proper channels. Made sure the right lawyers knew about the right women. Ensured NDAs were deemed unenforceable.
In all the drama that unfolded afterwards, it slipped my mind that Asher did this for me. As payback for what Richard did to me and all the other women. An oddly sweet gesture when you think about it, but one that has now morphed into my worst nightmare.
“Richard, I swear I didn’t–”
He lets loose another maniacal laugh. “You didn’t know? Well, since you’re going to die anyway, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Your husband tried to ruin me. And his plan worked, until his father reached out to me.”
Dread fills me, sinking to the bottom of my stomach like a rock. Leonard is behind this.
“See, I guess he figured out what your husband was doing to my career and he dropped me a lifeline. He knows enough judges to get these cases dismissed. And he has enough money to bribe anyone he needs. And you know what he wants in return?”
I swallow, not wanting to know the answer I already do.
Richard smiles. “All he wants in return is a dead daughter-in-law. I guess it will make great press if you’re killed.
Your husband will look more sympathetic as he takes over his family’s company, and as a bonus, you’ll be dead.
” The words hang in the air. I knew the Caines didn’t love me, but having me killed feels extreme.
“Any last words?” Richard asks, a twinkle in his eyes.
Again, I meet Wallace’s eyes in the rearview mirror. There’s a look in them, one that screams at me to hold on, and then before I think or say anything, he jerks the wheel.
The car swerves suddenly and violently to the left. Richard stumbles sideways as Wallace yanks the steering wheel with desperate strength, using the momentum to break free from the rope around his throat. The gun goes off with a deafening crack that makes my ears ring.
I scream as the windshield explodes in a spiderweb of cracks, safety glass raining down like deadly snow. Wallace slumps forward over the steering wheel, and I see the dark stain spreading across his white shirt, the way his hands go slack on the wheel.
Blood. So much blood.
The car careens wildly across two lanes of traffic, horns blaring around us as other drivers swerve to avoid collision.
We jump the curb with a bone-jarring impact that throws me against the door.
I cry out, my life flashing before my eyes as we slam into something solid and the world becomes a symphony of crushing metal and exploding glass.
The last thing I see is Richard's face twisted with rage, and then everything goes dark.