"What happened? A few days later, and you've fallen to this?"
I stared at him. No words came.
Clarence threw his head back and laughed, turning to the others. "How useless is Rupert Sanchez that he can't even keep his own wife?"
Someone egged him on.
"Come on, Mr. Whitney. Give her a try. See what Rupert Sanchez's woman tastes like."
Clarence pulled out his phone and snapped several photos of me.
"Of course I will."
"Take her."
Madame Rose panicked. "Mr. Whitney, this isn't how things are done—"
Clarence glanced at her. "Did Rupert Sanchez follow the rules when he dumped her here?"
Madame Rose shut her mouth instantly.
Only then did Clarence let out a low chuckle.
"Tonight's going to be fun."
The car drove for a long time.
I was thrown in the back seat, wrists and ankles bound with Clarence's tie.
He stayed on his phone the entire ride, repeating the same words.
Rupert Sanchez's wife is with me.
Want to come?
Each time he said it, the laughter on the other end grew louder.
Finally, the car stopped.
A suburban villa.
I was dragged out of the car. Dragged inside.
The living room was already occupied—several men, all strangers.
Clarence ripped the tape off my mouth.
"Gentlemen. Inspect the goods."