Chapter 7

Conor could no longer make out a single word anyone was saying.

Unable to hold back any longer, his tears fell one after another.

With trembling hands, he slowly picked up the broken pieces of the bracelet, his tears mixing with the blood on his fingers. He didn't spare anyone another glance. He simply clutched every fragment he'd managed to find tightly in his hand and followed the bodyguards in a daze when they came to take him away.

There were no explanations, arguing, or pleading.

Kendra watched him stand there in a dazed, vacant state, his cuts smeared with blood. A flicker of heartache passed through her eyes, but it was quickly buried beneath a complicated mix of emotions.

She cleared her throat and spoke in a lowered voice. "Conor, you need to get that overbearing attitude of yours under control. I'll come get you in seven days. If you haven't changed by then... I'll punish you again."

During his seven days in jail, Conor suffered terribly.

Kendra had specifically arranged for people to "look after" him. From the moment he entered the facility, he was ostracized. He was forced to drink tainted water and shoulder the heaviest labor. Occasionally, people attacked him in secret. They used every method they could think of, striking viciously and ruthlessly while making sure not to leave visible injuries or get caught.

For an entire week, he cycled through a brutal routine—passing out, waking up in pain, forcing himself to work, and eventually collapsing again.

Several times, he thought he wouldn't be able to endure it any longer.

Thankfully, he received a message from someone outside.

"Mr. Conor, the team assigned to Europe will be leaving soon. Please get ready. We'll come for you in two days."

When he read the message, he felt a flicker of awareness return through the haze.

Clinging to the last of his strength, he endured the remaining seven days.

On the day he was released, he received a message from his father.

[Funds received.]

"The divorce has been finalized. You'd better keep your word and get the hell out of here for good."

"Don't worry. I'll never come back."

For the first time, a trace of something different appeared on his numb face.

Finally, he was free.

He contacted the cemetery staff and went to retrieve his mother's ashes. Then he mailed the divorce agreement, packed his belongings, and left quietly and efficiently without alerting anyone.

Once everything was taken care of, he left without hesitation.

The plane cut through the sky, leaving a thin white trail in its wake.

Conor watched the city—a place he had called home for over twenty years—grow smaller and smaller beneath him. When he left, all he could take with him was himself and his mother's ashes.

Nothing else belonged to him.

The plane eventually disappeared into the night. His lips curved into a faint smile, but there wasn't the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes.

Kendra, may we never see each other again.