Chapter 4

Chapter 4

*Valerie’s POV*

“Fuck you, Michael!” I screamed, my throat choked as black smoke curled up from the burning wreck below the cliff.

“Fuck everything you ever meant in my life!” My fury spilling out of me. “You think I care that you left me at the altar? You think I care that you ran off with Cynthia? Please. She just took out the trash for me.”

I actually didn’t care about those anymore, I did yesterday, because of the humiliation, but when I slept it through, I realized I am the prize. I do not need a man to make me feel like shit, if a man sees my worth, he will stay. Too bad Michael didn’t see it.

“But what I do care about…” I screamed so loud the wind carried it back to me, “…is my fucking money! How dare you? How dare you take what I bled for?!”

A bitter laugh slipped from my lips. “You think you can hide from me, Michael? You could run to the moon, to Elon fucking Musk’s Mars colony, and I’d still find you. And when I do, you will pay me back every single dime you took from me.”

The fury felt good, cleansing, like fire in my lungs. I meant every word. Michael Sebastian had picked the wrong woman to betray. My money wasn’t just money, it was years of sweat, sacrifice, and he thought he could just strip it all away?

I inhaled deeply, my chest heaving, and slowly reality began to sink in. I was standing barefoot at the cliff’s edge, the wind slicing against my skin. It felt holy, almost cleansing. The Valerie who had walked down the aisle had died with that burning car. What stood there now was reborn in rage.

Then I looked down at myself and froze. Lace panties. White bra. Nothing else. “Shit.” A bitter laugh bubbled up. I had picked this lingerie with care thinking about my wedding night, my honeymoon, the perfect seductive moment. Now here I was, screaming curses into the sky, dressed for a honeymoon with a ghost.

“Fuck you, Michael Sebastian!” I shouted one last time, voice trembling between heartbreak and fury.

I turned back to leave, and my heart skipped a beat on who was before me, who the hell is this?

He was the fake grim reaper I had slapped in church. He kept asking my stupid questions not minding my predicaments.

His presence heavier than the smoke behind me. A chill tore down my spine, replacing fury with sharp, suffocating fear. His stare pinned me in place, like I was prey that he had tracked for miles.

Behind him, two other fake looking grim reapers. One was a woman with hair flowing like a dark river, her gaze sharp as knives. The other… slower, heavier, almost stupid-looking, but no less threatening.

My stomach twisted into knots. My anger vanished like it had never existed

Had I just screamed my last words into the world?

I had to summon courage, because I heard that when you show fear, you strengthen your opponents.

“You…” My voice cracked before I managed to steady it. “You followed me?”

He spoke low and even, every word deliberate, like the slow draw of a blade.

“Yes. We’re looking for Michael Sebastian.”

Michael. The name was poison on my tongue. Acid in my chest. Rage snapped free before I could stop it.

“Are you insane?” I realized immediately I said that, damn! I need to control my anger issues. “Michael? I don’t know where the hell he is”

Before he pushes me off the cliff, I needed to move, I shoved him, trying to put space between us, but he didn’t budge. He stood there, unmoving, as if I were a piece of paper and he felt none of the force I exerted.

“What do you want from me?” My voice broke, frantic and furious. “Leave me the hell alone!”

My fists hammered against his chest, over and over, pouring all my grief and betrayal into every strike. His silence only enraged me more, or perhaps it made me realize he wasn’t as dangerous as he looked. I wanted him to react. I wanted him to feel it.

His hands shot out, fast, sharp, like iron shackles clamping down on my wrists. My body froze under his grip. He controlled me with the ease of a man used to owning everything he touched.

“Enough,” he growled.

The sound ripped through me, deep and dangerous. My breath caught when I realized his fingers had shifted against my chest, grazing the lace over my cleavage. Heat and shame crashed over me.

I tore free, stumbling back as if he had seared me. “Pervert!” I spat, clutching myself. “What the hell do you want from me?”

His eyes dragged down my body, unhurried, unapologetic, a predator’s gaze that made my skin crawl and heat at once.

When his eyes met mine again, his voice was cold steel.

“I don’t want anything from you. Not unless you have something worth offering.”

Humiliation and fury tangled inside me, hot and raw. My instinct screamed at me to run, to get as far from him as I could. Barefoot, half-naked, broken. I didn’t care. Anything was better than standing here under the weight of his eyes.

I spun, ready to flee but his voice stopped me cold.

“You would rather the whole world see you like this,” he murmured, deadly quiet, “than me?”

Damn him. He was right. The thought of anyone else seeing me stripped and humiliated like this was unbearable.

I scoffed, trying to mask the panic clawing through me, but the heat in my cheeks betrayed me.

What kind of man was this? Raw, arrogant and infuriating. He shrugged off his jacket and held it out like an order.

“Cover yourself,” he said.

I glared, my pride screaming to reject it. But the cold bit through my skin, and my body betrayed me again. I snatched the jacket from him, pulling it over me. It swallowed me whole, the sleeves dangling past my wrists, the hem brushing my thighs.

He studied me. “So. Are you telling me you’re not useful to me concerning Michael’s whereabouts?”

I snapped again, not deliberately though, just my stupid temper messing me up. I’ve been through a lot for an interrogation about the person that had put me through this. “Are you deaf? Or blind?”

 “Watch it, young lady. You don’t talk to him like that.”