Chapter 91
Sienna’s pov
Back when I took on Victor’s crushing debt, collection calls never stopped, and after too many late payments I was forced to meet the same man again and again.
He wasn’t the lender. He collected for several parties, and the power behind him was Golden Harbor.
If Harrison hadn’t cleared the debt for me, my ending would’ve been worse than a bar hostess. I’d buried that period for a reason.
So when I saw him, I tried to walk past as if I hadn’t. He stepped directly into my path, smiling like we were old friends. “Five years and Mrs. Blackwood doesn’t recognize familiar faces? We had some history, didn’t we? Pretending you don’t see me isn’t very nice.”
“We have nothing to talk about,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Move.”
Rumor said women who couldn’t repay were sent to “work” for Golden Harbor, turned into playthings for the wealthy. Silas Gage, the middleman, profited either way.
“Hey, don’t rush off.” His gaze slid over me, slow and appraising. “Five years and Mrs. Blackwood still hasn’t learned humility? If you don’t have the luck to stay a rich man’s wife, you should learn to bow your head. Understand?”
Luna was dead weight against my arm, her head lolling toward my shoulder. I forced a steady breath. “Silas, my friend’s drunk. I need to take her home so she can sleep. We can talk another time.”
It was a polite lie. But I also knew I didn’t owe him anything anymore, and that meant I had every right to walk away.
“I can arrange somewhere for Ms. Reed to rest,” Silas said, smile unchanged. “Mrs. Blackwood, let’s have a chat.”
My grip tightened on Luna’s wrist. “Are you insisting I stay tonight?”
As if my words were a signal, bodyguards closed in, cutting off the corridor behind us. With Luna barely conscious, there was no breaking through them.
“Don’t make it sound ugly,” Silas said. “I just want to settle some old accounts.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Everyone knows you’re divorcing Mr. Blackwood. We should talk about the interest he didn’t cover.”
For a beat I didn’t understand, and then my stomach dropped.
“The interest you charge is illegal,” I said, forcing the words out cleanly. “Harrison already paid more than the legal limit. I don’t owe you anything.”
He hadn’t shown his face in five years. Now, the moment the divorce rumors spread, he came circling back. He didn’t want “interest.” He wanted whatever he could take once the Blackwood name stopped shielding me.
Silas’s expression cooled. “Mrs. Blackwood, I’ll give you one more chance to speak nicely. Five years ago, out of respect for Mr. Blackwood, we didn’t push too hard. To be blunt, we couldn’t afford to offend his family.” His eyes narrowed. “But you? Once you’re divorced… what are you?”
“What do you want?” I asked, voice deliberately calm. “You want me to pay interest?”
“Not just interest.” His tone stayed casual. “Five years of compounded interest. We need to discuss how you’ll settle.”
Fear crawled up my spine. “Despicable.”
Silas sighed as if I were the problem. “After all this, you still won’t come with us?” He lifted a hand. The bodyguards grabbed my arms, yanking me away from Luna. “Take her.”
I twisted, trying to wrench free. “I’m not divorced from Harrison yet. Who do you think you are to touch me?”
“Stop dreaming.” Silas’s mouth curled. “Mr. Blackwood doesn’t care about you anymore. If he hears you ended up at Golden Harbor as a hostess, he’ll probably hurry up and sign the papers.”
His contempt landed like a slap. “Mrs. Blackwood,” he said softly, “you think too highly of yourself.”
I tried to scream, but a cloth clamped over my mouth and nose. A harsh chemical bite flooded my throat, and the world tipped sideways.
My last coherent thought was bitter and helpless: What was Harrison doing right now? With Elena?
If I’d divorced him sooner, if I’d accepted Julian’s offer, if I’d taken Sophie overseas—none of this would be happening.
When I woke again, it was pitch-black.
I didn’t know how long I’d been out. My limbs felt heavy and useless; my stomach cramped with hunger. As my eyes adjusted, the outlines emerged—crates, dust, the stale bite of old wood. A storage room. Alone.
I forced myself upright, then froze at footsteps outside. I lay back down and let my eyelids fall, pretending to still be unconscious.
“What are you doing?” a woman’s voice asked—one I didn’t recognize.
“Client’s orders,” a man replied. “We take some compromising photos and videos of the woman inside.”
Client. Who?
“Oh?” the woman said, amused. “Who placed the order?”
“Confidential,” he said. “If you really wanted to know, you could find out.”
“Don’t joke,” she snapped. “Be careful you don’t kill her. The woman inside is valuable.”
My gaze swept the room. Tools, loose metal, a thick iron rod.
I grabbed it and edged toward the door, using the wall to pull myself upright, swallowing every sound.
A latch clicked. The door swung inward.
I lifted the rod, fixed on the back of the man’s head, and swung with everything I had.
He dropped without a sound. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor hard, the rod slipping from my fingers.
No. I had to get out. Silas taking me was one thing; a “client” ordering videos was another.
I dragged myself toward the door—and then a pale mist slid across my vision, thick and swallowing. My thoughts blurred. My body went slack.
When I came to again, dim lights burned overhead.
Iron bars surrounded me, forming a giant cage. Something was strapped over my head, sealing my mouth so I couldn’t speak; only my eyes were free to move.
I was on a stage.
Below me, countless people in masks looked up, unblinking, hungry, like wolves deciding how to tear.