Chapter 116
AARON
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The next morning, I didn’t sleep…I just stood by the glass walls of the penthouse, watching the sun rise like it owed me answers. The city blinked awake beneath me, unaware it was standing on the edge of a reckoning.
I made the call before Sabine even woke up.
“Find him,” I told Rick, head of my private security detail. “I want eyes on Gerald Marlowe. I want his location, his schedule, who he talks to, what he eats for breakfast-I want everything.”
Rick didn’t flinch. “On it.”
But hours passed. Then a day. Then two.
Nothing.
On the third morning, Rick called back. His voice was tight, coiled with frustration. “Sir, it’s like he disappeared. No phone pings. No credit card activity. No visual confirmation from our usual networks. I even checked border control, no travel records. No alias pops. He’s just… gone.”
Gone.
Like smoke through fingers.
I stood silent, the burn in my throat thick like bile. People don’t just vanish. Not unless they’re running. Or hiding. Or being protected.
I dug deeper.
Not into his whereabouts but into him.
Gerald Marlowe. Twenty-seven. A degree in business. Twin sister Andrea Marlowe, the snake in stilettos I’d once tolerated. When Venus and I were together, I never gave her brother a second glance. Too soft-spoken. Too clean. He faded into the wallpaper of elite society, just another forgettable heir to an industrial throne.
But now? Every blank space in his past was a flare.
I called in a favor from an old contact—a forensic profiler I’d used to vet shady boardroom acquisitions. The man dealt in ghosts and quiet predators. Just the kind I was looking for.
“Gerald Marlowe?” he said, pausing. “Yeah, name rings a bell. Quiet guy. Off the grid mostly. But I remember one thing…”
“Go on.”
“He was flagged in a couple of psychiatric trials as a subject. Years ago. Something about dampened affect response. Detachment disorder. Closest label would be primary psychopathy with elevated mimicry traits.”
I frowned. “English, please.”
The man chuckled, dry. “He doesn’t feel much, not guilt, not empathy. But he’s learned to fake it. Really well. A social chameleon. The kind who mirrors emotions instead of feeling them. They can pass as normal for years-decades—until one crack shows.”
The air in my lungs felt colder. Denser.
“Thanks,” I said, and hung up.
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Chapter 116
It didn’t make me feel better. If anything, it confirmed what I already feared.
This wasn’t a stalker.
It was a predator.
Still, none of it directly linked him to Venus. No photos. No fooge. No trail.
So I made another call.
Colton.
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He’d once had Venus followed. His men were thorough. They would’ve noticed something off-would’ve reported a shadow lingering too long.
Colton picked up on the second ring.
“Aaron?”
“Yeah. I need to ask about the time you had Venus tailed. Did your men report anything strange? Anyone else watching her?”
I heard the rustle of fabric, a sigh.
“No. If they did, they would’ve told me. What’s this about?”
“Gerald Marlowe. Ring any bells?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. The Marlowes are a name, yeah. But nothing came up about him.”
“I think he was stalking her. He showed up in Rome the same week we eloped. He was at that gala. At the club. Always there.”
Colton was quiet. Then:
“Not everyone in the same city ends up on the same screen, Aaron.”
Maybe. But my instincts didn’t care about coincidence.
Later that evening, Connor showed up uninvited. He walked into my study, took one look at the files sprawled across my desk like a homicide board, and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re spiraling,” he said.
“No. I’m closing in.”
Connor smirked. “Then let’s be smart about it. We can’t find hi? Fine. Let’s force him out.”
I looked up. “How?”
“We dig for pressure points. We bait him. But first, we find his shadows-his people. If Gerald vanished, he left breadcrumbs. Someone knows where he is.”
He was right.
It was a solid plan. Too solid.
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Chapter 116
And I hated that I hadn’t thought of it first.
“Put a team on it.”
Connor leaned back, smug. “Already did. While you were chewing glass and glaring at spreadsheets.”
Sabine appeared in the doorway just then, arms crossed, her gaze razor sharp.
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“If you’re going after him,” she said, “do it quietly. Gerald’s the kind who unravels fast. Corner him, and he’ll burn the house down before he lets you win.”
Connor’s smirk dropped. “You think he’d hurt Venus?”
Sabine didn’t answer immediately. Then:
“I think he already has.”
Silence fell like a stone.
I turned back toward the city.
“Then he better pray,” I whispered, “that I find her before I find him.”
The next phase began that night.
Not a search for a missing man.
A hunt for a shadow.
Connor’s team started tailing Andrea, combing through bank transactions, pharmacy purchases, old correspondences. They cross-referenced everything-board memberships, luxury rentals, charity events. Nothing. Gerald had gone nuclear: off- grid, untraceable, invisible.
Even Andrea hadn’t heard from him. No calls. No texts. Not for over a month.
Then-finally-a thread unraveled.
A pharmacy flagged for underground transactions popped up in our database. Small, private. Known for selling off-label meds under the table.
One item on the list stood out:
An over-the-counter sedative. One that had gained attention in psychological studies for its effect on mood compliance and suppression. Harmless enough in small doses, but in repeated use?
It dulled resistance. Fogged memory. Blurred lines.
The buyer used a fake name.
Close enough.
The delivery address?
A remote cottage. Two hours outside the city. No neighbors. No CCTV. Purchased under a shell corporation linked to one
of the Marlowe subsidiaries.
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I didn’t wait.
Didn’t call Connor. Didn’t inform the team.
This wasn’t reconnaissance.
This was personal.
I grabbed my coat, keys, and… gun.
And I drove.
Because if she was there…
If my Venus was breathing-hurting-alive….
I wasn’t sending a team.
I was going myself.
And this time?
Someone was going to bleed.
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Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.

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