All Chapters of POWERLESS: Chapter 61 - Chapter 67

It’s my fault… all of it. I blame myself for dragging Isla into my shit. It’s been two days since I got my hands on her phone… two fucking days, and as I stare at it inside the transparent nylon bag on the table in the investigator’s office, I can’t help the feeling of dread creeping into me. With all the money and power I possess, I couldn’t do anything for a full day because of the stupid law that says you have to wait twenty-four hours before filing a missing person report. Even after I showed them her damn broken phone. “Mr. Blackwood, I’ll suggest you sit this one out. Joseph Matin Muir will be on his way. Besides, I heard you have your own problems to deal with.” Ah yes, I do. I mean, when don’t I ever have a problem? From the moment I was born into this family, I’ve always had problems. A twisted father who never got satisfaction from anything I did. Who never even saw me as worthy of getting my own inheritance. A sick, twisted wife who fucked around. With a quick exhal

If I wasn’t so agitated, I’d probably take a second to be grateful that Gratia never came back to my estate. I’d be a fool to think she ever planned to make peace. She didn’t waste time filing a case against me. “We’re here, sir. You sure you don’t want me to come along with you?” “That won’t be necessary, Orbot. I need you out here to stand guard and watch the car. Alert me if you notice anything suspicious.” I don’t wait for his reply. I step out of the car, eyes immediately adjusting to the brown cobblestone walls of my father’s massive mansion in the heart of Midtown Manhattan. With the sun already down, the lights from the towering lampposts lined around the property cast a bright glow across the path, highlighting the rich cobbles and the massive gothic-style gate ahead. I know the surroundings like the back of my hand. I practically grew up here. This house was a gift to my mum, but after she passed, Theodore didn’t hesitate to hand it over to his whiny new wife. The

I’m a fool. That’s what I tell myself as I pop the pill into my mouth and slide onto my cell bed. I shouldn’t even believe this Jake dude, but the thought of not seeing Isla… he said she’d been wiped clean of her memory. I have to see her for myself. My thoughts pause when a strange tightening sensation grips my throat. Gasping, I rattle the cell doors, but the stupid guards are nowhere in sight. It’s the pills working through my system. The force drags me to the floor. Fuck. “Mr. Blackwood!” “Blackwood’s down! Robin, get over here! He’s seizing!” Boots slam against the floor. Keys rattle. Someone curses under their breath. The heavy door bangs open, and rough hands roll me onto my side. “Keep him steady!” a guard shouts. “I’m trying! Get the stretcher!” another yells back. The sound of the door clanging shut fades under the chaos as I’m lifted up. Everything happens so quickly I don’t realize I’m passing out until I hit the brink of darkness. ~~ “About t

The last time I came to Paris, it had been on my private jet. Beatrice had begged me to bring her for some fashion show, and it hadn’t ended well. Today, I’m here not as the heir to Blackwood Corporation, but as a fugitive. A man hunted. And yet—for the right reasons. We’d ditched the ship after several stops along different docks. I’d even accepted Jake’s offer to shave, though my stubble is already creeping back in, rough and uneven across my jawline. Every time I catch my reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror of this place, it stares back at me like a man I don’t recognize. “Take me to her,” I demand for the seventeen-hundredth time since he holed me up in this stale motel on the rough side of Paris with only Isla’s photo to keep me company and reassured. The stench of mildew clings to the walls. The sheets feel older than the building itself, scratchy and damp. I can’t stop pacing, my boots thudding against the uneven floorboards. News of my little prison escape has a