A Friend’s Reckoning

A Friend’s Reckoning

King stared at the glowing screen of his phone, disbelief tightening his chest. The headline was impossible to ignore: “Yin Heiress Hospitalized Following Twin Kidnapping.” He scrolled through the article, heart thudding faster with every word. The details were scarce—an ambush, security personnel sedated, the children gone without a trace. Annie Yin’s name appeared several times, followed by mentions of Alaric Devereux’s outrage and an ongoing city-wide manhunt.

King dropped the phone on his desk and ran both hands over his face. His mind went instantly to one name. Judith. Wicked, reckless, manipulative Judith.

He had no doubt. It had her fingerprints all over it.

And if Judith was behind it, then Rex—stubborn, guilt-ridden Rex—was somewhere tangled in her madness.

King pushed back from his chair and grabbed his car keys. He canceled all his morning meetings without another word and stormed out. The drive to Rex’s estate felt longer than usual, every red light testing his patience. The radio murmured faintly about the kidnapping, but he shut it off. He didn’t need the world’s version of the story. He needed answers—from Rex himself.

When he finally arrived, the gates opened slowly, as though hesitating. The mansion looked dim and heavy, like it was holding its breath. The housekeeper met him at the door, startled by the sudden arrival.

“Mr. King,” she stammered. “Sir Rex gave strict instructions not to be disturbed. He refused dinner last night and said—”

“Where is he?” King cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The woman hesitated, wringing her hands. “He’s… not in his bedroom. He’s been in the studio since yesterday afternoon. He hasn’t eaten since yesterday when he came back from work. And Madam Judith… she hasn’t been home for three days now.”

King’s jaw clenched. Of course she hasn’t. He brushed past the housekeeper, ignoring her protests, and made his way down the hall toward Rex’s private art studio—a space few people were ever allowed into.

The moment he opened the door, a sour mix of alcohol, turpentine, and stale air hit him. The room was a wreck. Paint tubes littered the floor, canvases torn and overturned, glass shattered near the window. The chaos looked less like an artist’s mess and more like the aftermath of a storm.

And there, sitting on the floor amid the wreckage, was Rex.

His back rested against the wall, an almost-empty bottle of whiskey dangling from one hand. His eyes were bloodshot, sunken, unfocused. The faint tremor in his hand made the liquor ripple against the glass.

King froze, taking in the sight. On the far wall hung a single untouched painting—the only thing spared from the destruction. It was a portrait of a woman and two children. Annie and the twins.

King had never met her in person, but he knew enough from the way Rex used to speak her name, always with a softness that betrayed guilt and longing. He’d seen the photos once, back when Rex had come to him asking for help running DNA tests. Back when the results had ripped through him like a blade.

And now… this.

“Rex,” King said quietly.

No response.

He stepped closer, boots crunching over broken glass. “Rex, what the hell happened here?”

Rex finally turned his head, the slow, disoriented motion of a man caught between shock and despair. His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “They’re gone.”

King frowned. “Who’s gone?”

“The twins,” Rex murmured, eyes flicking briefly to the painting. “They took them.”

A heavy silence filled the air.

King crouched down beside him. “You mean… you know about it?”

Rex’s throat worked as if swallowing a knife. “Judith… she said she just payback Annie. To make her pay. To make me a father, but—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think she’d actually do it. Not like this, she’s not even picking my calls.”

King stared at him, anger rising in his chest like fire. “And you let her?”

Rex’s eyes snapped up, wild. “I didn’t know she’d go this far! She said she only wanted leverage, that she wanted to expose Annie for who she was and we’d leave this country with the kids and be a family. I thought—”

“You thought?” King cut in sharply. “You thought she’d stop at just taking the kids? Judith has never stopped at anything! You’ve known that since before she married you. You watched her ruin people and still went along with it.”

Rex flinched as if the words had weight. He set the bottle down, fingers trembling. “I didn’t plan it this way. I swear I didn’t.”

King straightened, his frustration barely contained. “You might as well have. You gave her the power. You stood by and let her drag you into every scheme she’s ever dreamed up, and now she’s gone and kidnapped two innocent kids.”

Rex didn’t answer. His gaze was still locked on the painting, his expression torn between grief and disbelief. “I told her to leave everything behind,” he said after a long pause. “But she said Annie called her barren. That she laughed in her face.”

King’s expression hardened. “And you believed that?”

Rex’s lips parted, but no answer came.

“Of course you did,” King muttered with a disbelief sigh. “Because that’s what she does—Judith twists people until they can’t tell truth from manipulation. And now look at you.”

He gestured to the room—the wreckage, the broken man on the floor. “This is what’s left of the great Rex Radsford. A genius turned into a ghost.”

Rex pressed his palms against his eyes, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

King exhaled heavily, pacing the room. “Meaning doesn’t matter anymore. Those children are missing, and their mother’s in the hospital. Do you have any idea what kind of storm is coming? Alaric Devereux has already put a bounty out—five hundred billion for whoever finds the people behind it. You’re in over your head, Rex. You and Judith both.”

Rex’s head snapped up at that. “Five hundred billion?”

King nodded grimly. “And the city’s already stirring. You know how fast that kind of money spreads. There’ll be mercenaries, bounty hunters, criminals—people who’d sell their own blood for a chance at it.”

Rex went pale. He gripped the neck of the bottle tighter. “Judith doesn’t know what she’s started…”

“She never does,” King said bitterly. “She thinks she’s invincible. But this time, she’s drawn blood from the wrong people. Devereux is raging.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The only sound was the faint ticking of the broken clock on the wall.

Finally, King spoke again, quieter this time. “You need to find her, Rex. Before they do. Because when Devereux finds her—and he will soon and trust me—he won’t show mercy. Not to her. Not to anyone tied to this.”

Rex let out a shuddering breath, his expression hollow. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Then get up,” King said firmly. “Stop drowning yourself in whiskey and do something right for once. Help those kids, they might be your children after all.”

For a moment, Rex didn’t move. Then, slowly, he set the bottle aside and pressed his palms to the floor, trying to steady himself as he stood. His movements were shaky, uncoordinated, but there was something different in his eyes—a flicker of old resolve buried under the ruin.

“Where would she take them?” King asked.

Rex shook his head. “I don’t know. Judith’s careful. She’d hide somewhere remote, somewhere only she trusts. She’s probably changing locations already.”

King crossed his arms. “Then we find out. You still have the contacts of your men, don’t you?”

Rex nodded faintly.

“Good,” King said. “Use them. Because if you don’t, someone else will—and they won’t be as gentle.”

The words hung between them, heavy and certain.

King turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing once more at the ruined painting. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I don’t think Annie ever called her barren. Judith doesn’t need reasons to destroy people—just excuses.”

Rex didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on the painted faces—the woman with soft eyes, the children who looked like they were about to laugh.

When King left him in the room, the room felt even emptier than before.

Rex remained standing there long after the sound of his footsteps faded, his thoughts a tangled storm of guilt, rage, and regret.

Somewhere deep down, he knew King was right.

Judith had started a fire she couldn’t control. And this time, it wasn’t just going to burn her. It was going to burn everything including him and probably his family.