Dale Atkins POV:
The housekeeper, trembling, slowly opened the door. Jetta walked in, her face carefully made up, looking deceptively innocent and radiant. She didn't notice the icy tension in the air, the storm brewing in my eyes. Her heart was probably pounding with anticipation, her face painted with feigned tears. "I've thought a lot about it," she said, her voice a soft, contrite whisper. "I shouldn't have interfered. I truly wish you and Faith a lifetime of happiness." She held out a glass of red wine. "My last wish, if I may, is to toast you. Thank you for everything, Dale. I'll never forget your kindness."
My blood ran cold. My voice, when I spoke, was a chilling whisper. "Bring it here."
Her face lit up with triumph. She practically skipped over, her eyes shining. "To your success, Dale, and to your happiness!" she chirped, holding out the glass.
My hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat. Her eyes widened, her face turning purple as she gasped, struggling against my grip. "Jetta," I snarled, each syllable laced with venom. I wanted to tear her apart, shred her into a thousand pieces.
"Dale, please," she choked, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."
"Shut up!" I roared, my voice raw with rage. "Don't you dare speak Faith's name!" I slammed her against the wall, my hand tightening around her jaw, twisting it with brutal force. A sickening crunch echoed through the room. She screamed, her face chalk-white.
Without a moment's hesitation, I forced the drugged wine down her throat. She choked, sputtering, her body convulsing. She tried to spit it out, but it was too late. The potent drug was already taking hold.
"It's a fast-acting drug," I said, my voice a low growl, "you'll need your stomach pumped right away." I stomped on her hand, grinding my heel into her fingers. She shrieked in agony, still trying to blame Faith.
I shoved my phone in her face, playing the security footage from the bar. Her eyes widened in horror. "No! It's fake! Faith did this!" she screamed, a desperate, pathetic attempt at denial.
I slapped her across the face so hard she flew several feet, collapsing on the floor. Her face was a mottled mess of red and purple. The drug was taking effect. Her body writhed, her hands tearing at her clothes, her eyes glazed with a desperate arousal. "I need you, Dale," she whimpered, "hold me, please!"
Just then, my assistant appeared with five burly foreign men. They were huge, hairy, and reeked of cheap cologne. I pointed a cold, unforgiving finger at Jetta. "She's all yours."
Jetta froze, her eyes widening in terror. "No! She shrieked, a primal scream tearing from her throat. "Dale, please! I love you! My body can only be yours!"
I watched, cold and unfeeling, as they dragged her out. "You're a hypocrite, Dale!" she shrieked, her voice fading as they pulled her further away. "This is all your fault!"
I grabbed a chair and flung it against the wall, roaring, "Shut up!" The sound of her screams eventually died down, replaced by a chilling silence.
My anger, my desperation, burned brighter than ever. "Why can't you find Faith?!" I demanded of my assistant, my voice hoarse.
He cowered, shaking his head. "We can't find any trace of her, sir. It's like someone erased her from all surveillance, all digital footprints."
Just then, the doorbell rang. My heart leaped into my throat. Faith. It had to be Faith. I practically flew to the door, tearing it open.
