In the Goodman family's private estate, a middle-aged man trembled before the desk, unable to lift his head as cold sweat beaded on his temples.
"Mr. Goodman, we've checked. The person you've been searching for appeared at the airport with several men. One seems quite close to her," the man reported. His voice trailed off.
The man in the chair slowly turned, a cigarette burning between slender fingers. Even through the smoke, his striking face captivated. His expression was indifferent, his eyes cold and dangerous as he regarded the trembling man. A smile played on his lips. "Oh? How close? Continue."
Terror seizing him, the middle-aged man fell to his knees, wiping futilely at his sweating hands. "Mr. Goodman, they... they weren't close. I didn't see clearly," he stammered.
Braydon forcefully stubbed out his cigarette, his eyes narrowing. A faint smile touched his lips as his fingers brushed the corner of a photograph showing Yvette and Jeremiah at the airport. "Not close?" he repeated.
The middle-aged man quickly responded, obsequiously. "Mr. Goodman, they are not close! There's nothing between them!" His fear evident, he repeated the assertion twice more.
Braydon's expression softened slightly. But as the man began to relax, Braydon looked up, his red eyes filled with menace. The middle-aged man felt the gaze of a predator. He froze, head bowed, barely daring to breathe.
"Lying without blinking? Who taught you that?" Braydon turned to the window, lighting another cigarette. "Kill him," he ordered.
The middle-aged man tried to flee, but it was too late. In the shadows, a gun found its mark. A gunshot rang out.
Clutching his chest, the man looked around, realizing only then another person had been present in the study. Less than five seconds later, two men in black entered and swiftly removed the body. The entire event transpired in less than a minute, leaving no trace.
Braydon stared at the photograph, his eyes intense, yet a deep longing flickered within. What a dazzling smile, he mused. He extended a slender finger, pressing the still-burning cigarette against the man's face in the picture. Watching the image become disfigured, he smiled with satisfaction. His voice was rough. "Jess, why do you think Yvette never smiles at me?"
From the darkness, a woman's chillingly cold voice replied, slightly hoarse. "Mr. Goodman, I don't know."
Braydon's eyes blazed. They were deep, unreadable pools. His expression hardened. "Yeah, I understand. If I don't know, how could you?"
He touched the small scar above his eyebrow; a mark that only enhanced his handsome features, adding an air of mystery. A cruel smile played on his lips. Yvette must have liked me; otherwise, why did she leave me with this scar? Clear proof. But now she's captivated by another man. That's alright. Once he's dead, Yvette will surely return to me!
He looked towards the darkness. His voice was calm. "Jess, I'm upset. What do you think I should do?"
The woman instantly knelt, the sound echoing in the room. "Mr. Goodman, tell me what I can do for you."
Braydon looked down, his eyes reddening. His lashes flickered, momentarily hiding the madness within.
"Go kill that man. Break every bone in his body, and it would be best if you could peel off his flesh piece by piece. Take a picture for me; I want to enjoy it with Yvette. I'm sure she'll love it, don't you think?"
From the darkness, the woman emerged, clad in black leather, her mask concealing all but her cold, gleaming eyes. "Yes, Mr. Goodman. Jess will follow your command."
After she left, Braydon retrieved a small box, revealing a silver knife engraved with "Yvette." He caressed the handle, then whispered something before slashing his arm. Blood welled, but he seemed unfazed, staring at the wound with a contented smile. It feels great. The feeling of Yvette's dagger slicing into my skin reminds me I am alive.
The next day, Yvette was having breakfast with Emmett, Chris, Frankie, and Bruce at Jeremiah's villa. Sienna texted: [Mr. Zeller, help me.] Yvette paused, then went to her room to call. Sienna answered, her voice urgent and angry.
"Mr. Zeller, help me! That jerk Nathan wants to lock me up because I want to break up with him! He says if we die, we die together. And his brother, Braydon, is even more insane! He told Nathan to chop off my hands and feet and keep me as a pet if I don't listen! The whole Goodman family is crazy! But I'm not weak either. I gave Nathan sleeping pills and escaped. Now he's trapped me, with nowhere to go!"
Sienna paused. "Ms. Zeller, is there a way to get me out of Mysonna for a while? I could hide for three to five years. Once Nathan finds another woman, he'll probably leave me alone." Desperate, she turned to Yvette, sensing a mysterious power within her.
Yvette, lounging on the couch, her eyes narrowed. Calmly, she replied, "Send me your location. I'll come pick you up."
Sienna was stunned. After a surprised shout, she quickly lowered her voice. "Ms. Zeller, you're in Mysonna? Wow, you're a lifesaver! An angel! I must have done something good in a past life to meet a boss like you!"
Yvette rubbed her temples. "Address?" she asked, already aware Sienna's flattery was often misplaced.
Sienna hurriedly gave the address and waited at a nearby pizza place, reaching into her pocket to find it empty. She had fled in such haste, she'd brought no money. Starving, she could only gaze longingly at the pizzas. In the distance, a black SUV watched her.