Years ago, Brandon Pruitt had been deported, returning in disgrace. He came to Bonnie like a wounded animal, begging for a place to stay. I tried to stop it. Bonnie respected my wishes at the time.
I never expected Brandon to hold such a deep grudge over my hesitation. I never expected him to abduct my daughter in retaliation.
And I certainly never expected Bonnie to help him cover it up.
Looking back, I had sacrificed everything to find Mandy. My job. My family's financial security. Every cent went to search teams and missing person flyers. I mortgaged my parents' home and sold off every asset to my name.
Bonnie knew the truth. She watched me drown in debt and agony.
Yet while I was on my knees begging for help, she used our joint savings to buy this villa for Brandon. She brought Mandy here, living openly with her first love in a twisted domestic fantasy.
I looked around the room. The decor was exquisite, the furnishings meticulous. Every cushion, every vase, every painting—hand-picked by Bonnie.
The woman who procrastinated for days before washing a single bowl at our house had poured her soul into this place. She moved mountains for Brandon. I couldn't even get her to look at me.