Chapter 61
After being thrown out, Drake stood with his mother and Sienna outside the Sterling estate.
“Son, what do we do now?” Margaret was nearly in tears. “Have we ruined everything with the Sterlings?
What about the investment?”
“Will they retaGabbyte?” Sienna trembled. “The Sterlings are so powerful.”
Drake remained silent, moving like a puppet with cut strings, his expression vacant and lifeless.
Later that evening, as Asher drove Gabriella home, she hesitated outside her building. “About today…‘
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He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his voice low and vulnerable. “When he said you could have
been married and happy if he’d known your identity… I was afraid. If you-”
“There is no ‘if,” Gabriella cut him off gently, meeting his dark eyes. “Don’t worry about things that never
happened.”
“Besides,” she added seriously, “I never planned to marry Drake anyway.”
Asher’s eyes brightened. “Really?”
Gabriella nodded, smiling. She shivered slightly in the night air, but her eyes sparkled. “Back then, I never thought about marrying Drake. But now, I’m looking forward to our engagement ceremony.”
Asher slipped off his jacket, wrapping it around her as he pulled her close. “So am I.”
Drake left the estate alone in his car, disappearing into the night.
Sienna drove Margaret back to their hotel, both women still shaken from their humiGabbytion. As they stepped out of the car in the underground parking garage, they were suddenly grabbed from behind. Before either could scream, bags were pulled over their heads and everything went dark.
They awoke in a dimly lit private room, forced face–down against a glass table. A man covered in tattoos lounged on the sofa across from them, one leg crossed casually over the other.
“Let’s have some fun,” he smiled menacingly. “Share a drink with me?”
Margaret, still playing the wealthy matriarch, began hurling abuse at him. “How dare you! Do you know who I am? When my husband-”
The tattooed man’s smile never wavered as he nodded to his associate. The black–suited man grabbed
Margaret by the hair, delivering two sharp slaps that echoed through the room.
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The Encrypted Line to the White House: A Scorned Heiress’s Annihilation
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Chapter 61
Margaret’s cheeks burned as she clutched her face. “Who are you people? Why are we here?”
“Tsk tsk,” the man cleaned his ears theatrically. “Such a noisy old woman. One more word and we’ll solve that problem permanently.” He pulled out a Swiss Army knife, letting the blade catch the light.
Margaret fell silent, her legs trembling beneath her.
Sienna remained pinned to the table as the man picked up a glass of wine, splashing it across her face. “Tonight’s simple – finish every drop on this table and you can leave.”
“But I can’t drink!” Margaret protested weakly.
The man’s smile vanished. With a sharp gesture, his men began forcing liquor down their throats. No matter how they struggled, the grip on them was iron.
Glass after glass, bottle after bottle, until their stomachs distended painfully.
The tattooed man pressed his knife against Sienna’s cheek, just hard enough to dimple the skin. “Watch who you cross in this city. Some people aren’t as forgiving as others.”
Sienna’s lip quivered, her face bloodless with terror.
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” he suddenly roared, making both women jump.
With the cold steel against their skin and their lives literally in his hands, they could only nod frantically.
“Yes, yes, we understand,” they whimpered in unison.
Three days later, Sienna stood outside Drake’s hotel suite, knocking softly.
“Drake? Are you in there?”
Silence.
Frowning, she pulled out her phone to call him. The phone rang endlessly before disconnecting. Since that night at the Sterling estate, Drake had completely disappeared – no responses to messages or calls, refusing to open his door.
The front desk confirmed he hadn’t checked out.
“BANG! BANG! BANG!” She pounded harder. “Drake Ashcroft! I’m not leaving until you open this door!”
After ten minutes of relentless knocking, the door finally opened. A wave of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol hit her, making her gag.
“God, what’s that smell?” She pinched her nose in disgust.
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Drake looked terrible – sunken eyes ringed black, unshaven, his face oily and unwashed. The reek of alcohol and sweat suggested he hadn’t showered in days.
“What have you done to yourself?” Sienna asked, fighting her nausea.
Drake’s eyes were lifeless, his voice hollow. “What do you want?”
“I’ve been worried sick about you.” She pushed past him into the suite.
The heavy curtains were drawn tight, no lights on despite the midday hour. The spacious suite was pitch black.
Sienna flicked on the lights with a grimace. Empty bottles littered the living room, the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, ashes scattered everywhere.
She turned on the ventilation fan and yanked open the curtains. “Are you just going to waste away in here? What about Ashcroft Capital? Your father’s been desperate for investment, but no company will touch us. Do you know why?”
She turned to face him. “Do you even know who Gabriella’s fiancé is? He’s Asher Blackwood, heir to the Blackwood empire! His family has more influence than the Sterlings. One word from him and no company in London dares invest in Ashcroft Capital.”
Drake stood like a puppet with cut strings, his face blank and unresponsive.
Frustrated by his silence, Sienna stormed out.
The room fell quiet again. Drake stumbled deeper into the suite, his body numb. After so long in darkness, the sunlight made him dizzy, his tall frame swaying unsteadily.
He stood at the window, staring blankly outside at the bright day.
Finally, he checked his phone – dozens of missed calls, countless unread messages,
Mason’s call came through again. This time, Drake answered.
“Where have you been? Can’t reach you anywhere,” Mason said. “Did you get my messages?”
Drake’s voice was hoarse. “Are you still in Paris?”
“Yeah, flying back tomorrow. Why?”
“Need you to buy something.”
“Sure, what?” Mason paused. “What’s wrong with your voice?”
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Chapter 61
Silence stretched between them.
“She’s getting engaged,” Drake said quietly.
“What? Who’s getting engaged?”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.