Chapter 2

Nolan's Pov

Blood doesn’t bother me anymore.

The man on the floor—Ty—was shaking so hard the chains rattled against the concrete. His nose was broken, lips split, bruises spreading like a map. He kept begging, his voice cracking, his breath sharp and desperate.

None of it moved me.

I kept the gun steady, aimed right between his eyes. “Ty,” I said calmly, “where is the money?”

“I—I swear, Nolan, I didn’t take anything!” he cried. “I don’t know where it went. Please, you have to believe me….”

I clicked off the safety.

He froze. “Wait—wait, I’ll tell you! Please, just promise me something.”

I raised a brow. “You’re on your knees, drenched in your own regrets, and you want promises? Go on.”

He swallowed. “Just let me walk away. I’ll disappear. I won’t breathe a word, just let me—”

“And how exactly do I know you’re telling the truth?” I asked.

His throat bobbed. “Call my assistant. He knows the accounts, he’ll tell you I’m not lying.”

I lowered the gun slightly and nodded. “Call him.”

Ty’s hands trembled so badly he could barely unlock his phone. He dialed, stammered questions, pace quick, terrified. Everything he said matched the truth.

He hung up, looking at me with trembling hope. “See? I told you… I told you the truth. Please. Spare me.”

I sighed softly. “I will spare you, Ty.”

Relief washed over his face.

“From this miserable life you’ve been living.”

Two seconds. One trigger pull. Silence.

Asher leaned against the doorway, arms folded. “Well… Vincent told you to keep him alive.”

I wiped my hand on a cloth nearby. “I don’t care what Vincent says. We have the money location. That’s all that matters.”

Asher snorted. “Your funeral, not mine.”

We headed out. My hands were stained, the red drying across my knuckles. I stared at them for a moment.

“I need to go home and clean up before my appointment,” I said.

Asher groaned. “Appointment? What appointment again?”

“The outpatient rehab sessions,” I reminded him. “We talked about this.”

“Oh right,” he muttered. “Fine. Let’s go.”

*****

My mansion was quiet, exactly how I paid for it to be. Asher dropped onto the couch immediately.

“Stay down here,” I told him.

He shot me a sarcastic look. “Relax. I have no desire to see you naked, man.”

I ignored him and headed upstairs.

I stripped off the hoodie, stared at the blood smeared on my skin, and turned on the shower. The water washed it all away, but not the memories. It’s been nearly three years since everything fell apart. Three years since the only woman I ever loved married my brother. Three years since they said I had an obsessive disorder, locked me in rehab for two years, then put me on a check-in schedule like a broken machine.

But I’m better now.

At least… better in my own way.

I don’t stalk her social media anymore.

I don’t check her location.

I don’t memorize her routines.

Instead, I kill for people who deserve it and get paid more money than I can ever spend.

Healthy? No.

Effective? Absolutely.

I dried myself, put on a clean shirt, a dark formal coat, and became Nolan Williams again, the billionaire everyone respects, fears, or bows to.

Downstairs, Asher stood. No words needed. He knew it was time.

“Take us to Evergreen Rehabilitation Center,” I told the drive.

As the car rolled up the driveway, Asher stretched. “You know I can’t follow you inside. Go make yourself useful,” I told him.

He smirked. “Make myself useful? You mean find someone to fuck? You haven’t touched a woman in—what—three years?”

I didn’t bother responding. I simply stepped out of the car.

*****

My sessions are always in a private room. She likes to call it “confidential therapeutic space.” I call it “her attempt to fix something unfixable.”

I sat down, checking the time. I almost opened her Instagram—just habit—but stopped myself. Not today. Not anymore.

I chuckled quietly. A better man.

Sure. If you squinted.

The door opened.

“Nolan,” Dr. Caroline said, stepping in. “You’re early.”

“Yes,” I replied.

But she wasn’t alone.

Standing beside her was a girl, young, red gingered like haired, quiet, beautiful in a way that felt… haunting. Like she didn’t belong anywhere near a place filled with broken things.

A red-haired goddess.

And the moment her eyes met mine…My pulse shifted.

Caroline stepped fully into the room, forcing a professional smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“How are you feeling today, Nolan?” she asked as she gestured for me to sit.

I sat. They sat opposite me, the doctor in her crisp coat, and the girl beside her, quiet and almost shrinking into her chair. Up close, she looked even younger. Maybe twenty-one… twenty-two. Her red hair fell around her shoulders like flame, but her eyes held the kind of exhaustion only people who have lived too many lives understand.

“This is my daughter,” Caroline said suddenly. “Teresa.”

Her daughter.

I didn’t show any reaction, but inside my mind whispered, Teresa. Fitting name for a girl whose hair looks like autumn and fire at the same time.

She didn’t look at me.

In fact… she was avoiding me.

Caroline opened her notepad. “Now, Nolan… tell me. How have you been feeling this week? Any obsessive patterns returning? Any urge to go back to your old behaviors?”

“No.”

“Any moments where you felt tempted? Moments of… old habits?” She tilted her head, meaning stalking your ex again.

I kept my gaze steady. “No.”

“Have you checked her I*******m recently?”

“No.”

“Location? Email? Friends’ posts?”

I paused deliberately, just to watch her worry, but my answer stayed the same.

“No.”

Teresa’s fingers tightened on her jeans, like she was holding something in. She still wouldn’t look at me. Was she shy? Scared? Or just uninterested?

Caroline nodded slowly. “Good. You’ve shown a lot of improvement. Keep this up.”

She launched into more questions…sleep patterns, anger levels, appetite, the usual checklist for someone they think is one step away from madness. I answered them all, calm and clean, because I’d learned how to say the things doctors liked hearing.

But while she scribbled notes, my attention kept drifting.

To the girl beside her.

Soft skin.

Quiet breath.

Eyes focused on the floor because she refused to meet mine.

Why wasn’t she looking at me?

Was she scared? Or did she feel the same strange pull I felt?

Caroline continued, “Alright, I’m going to call the medical doctor in to do the standard physical examination.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. Instead, I leaned back and waited while the main physician walked in and started poking and prodding like always—checking my pupils, pulse, reflexes, all the pointless rituals they insisted on.

I endured it. One more year, I promised myself. One more year of this circus, then I’m done.

I’m fine now.

I don’t stalk.

I don’t obsess.

Right?

When it was finally over, Caroline scribbled the last notes. “You’re doing well, Nolan. Very well.”

I nodded and rose to my feet. Teresa moved slightly to the side to give me space. She still wouldn’t look at me, and for some reason… that irritated me.

Why avoid me so much?

I stepped out of the office and found Asher leaning on the wall, eating chips like he owned the building.

“Let’s go,” I said.

He tossed the pack away and followed. We got into the car, the doors shutting with a deep thud.

“Driver,” Asher said, “Take us to Vincent. He’s waiting.”

“No.”

The word came out before Asher even finished.

He turned slowly. “No?”

“I’m not going to Vincent yet.”

“Why the hell not?”

I exhaled and leaned back into the seat. “Because I want to see Teresa again.”

Asher blinked. “Who the fuck is Teresa?”

I looked out the window, watching the rehab building doors like they suddenly mattered to me.

“No one,” I said quietly. “Just someone I want to see one more time.”