Lucas stared at the shocking pool of red on the floor, his mind going completely blank.
The ambulance had long since driven away, yet its siren still seemed to echo in his ears.
A deathly silence hung over the ballroom.
The guests' stares cut into him like knives.
Vanessa sat collapsed on the staircase, trembling all over.
"Lucas, you have to believe me. I really didn't push her that hard."
She crawled toward him, reaching for the hem of his trousers.
"Get away from me."
Lucas lashed out and kicked her aside.
All he could see was Claire's ashen face, and all he could hear was her whisper. "My baby."
That child, not yet even fully formed, had died because of him.
"Mr. Ashford." Grant pushed through the crowd, drenched in sweat, and lowered his voice. "Mr. Holloway's assistant just called. All of the Holloway family's liquid funds were transferred out three hours ago. At this point, all that's left on the company's books is a pile of short-term debt about to come due."
Lucas whipped around and stared at him.
"What did you just say?"
Grant swallowed hard, not daring to meet his boss's eyes.
"The proxy holding agreement you took to the bank yesterday was rejected. It was tied to all of Holloway Group's hidden liabilities. Those debts have now all been transferred to your name."
Darkness swam before Lucas's eyes, and his body swayed.
"That's impossible!" He grabbed Grant by the collar. "I read that contract myself. How could it possibly include hidden liabilities?"
"It was in the supplementary clauses," Grant said, his voice shaking. "The lawyer said Miss Holloway had that agreement redrafted on purpose."
Lucas let go and stumbled back two steps.
The scheme he had been so proud of had already become nothing more than a toy in Claire's hands.
Not only had she walked away unscathed, she had strapped every last debt tightly onto his back.
"To the hospital. Now. Find her!"
Lucas rushed out of the hotel and tore through the streets at reckless speed.
After running several red lights, he finally slammed to a stop outside the emergency department.
"Where is Claire? Where's the pregnant woman who was just brought in?"
The nurse recoiled half a step at the savage look on his face.
"That patient has already been transferred. Her family requested confidentiality, so we're not allowed to disclose where she was taken."
"She just miscarried. How could she possibly be transferred?" Lucas slammed his fist down on the nurses' station.
A doctor walked over and handed him a manila envelope.
"Mr. Ashford, Miss Holloway asked me to give this to you before she left."
Lucas snatched the envelope and tore it open.
Out fell the signed divorce agreement.
Along with it was a thin photocopy of a prenatal exam report.
The date on it was the very same day he had taken her to that revolving restaurant.
Lucas gripped the photocopy so tightly his knuckles blanched.
She had known all along.
She had known everything, and still she had smiled, swallowed that shrimp, and played along with his little performance of devotion until the very end.
He walked out of the hospital like a man who had lost his soul.
The early winter wind cut across his face like a blade.
He drove without direction until he finally stopped in front of the house that had once been their new home.
When he pushed open the door, the house was completely dark.
No light had been left on for his return.
No woman was there to greet him with that same quiet gentleness.
When he turned on the lights, the living room felt hollow and empty.
Every trace of Claire's personal belongings, her clothes, her jewelry, had vanished without a trace.
A USB drive sat on the coffee table.
Lucas walked over and plugged the drive into the television.
After a flicker, high-definition surveillance footage began to play across the screen.
In the video, he and Vanessa were tangled together on the sofa.
Vanessa laughed sweetly as she asked when Claire would finally be out of the picture.
While kissing her, Lucas answered that he intended to bleed the Holloway family dry.
The footage had been recorded from the exact angle of Claire's favorite armchair.
As Lucas stared at the filthy scene of his own making on the screen, not a single sound could escape his throat.
So the affair he had thought was hidden had long since become a clown show laid bare in plain sight.
He snatched up the ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at the television.
The screen shattered, and the distorted image vanished in a spray of broken light.
A suffocating pressure surged into his throat and drowned him whole.
He had taken on a mountain of debt, and he had also lost forever the woman who had once looked at him as though he were her entire world.
Lucas dropped to his knees in the shattered glass and covered his face with both hands.
A broken, animal-like sound of despair tore from his throat.
Blood ran between his fingers, but it was nothing compared to the terror rising inside his chest.
How much leverage had Claire taken with her? And what kind of abyss was waiting for him next?
