Kayla frowned. She knew Shawn had lured Felicia to the hillside, shoved her off the cliff, and left her for dead, believing the rushing water would finish the job. But someone else had been there. Who?

Her mind raced back to the day she'd visited the Lawsons to cancel the engagement. Felicia had emerged from a man's car—a stunning, unforgettable figure. "Damn it!" Kayla slammed her fist on the car seat, then forced herself to calm down. She hissed into the phone, "More money? Fine. Finish the job. Get rid of Felicia. I'll pay you even more." Her black card had no limit; soon, she'd own an additional 4% of the Fuller Group. The annual dividends alone were a fortune. Paying Shawn more was insignificant. Getting rid of Felicia was worth it.

"Really?" Shawn's eagerness was palpable. Desperate for cash, he'd risk anything. "Meet me. Bring the down payment. I'm under the Cedar Street bridge."

Even over the phone, Kayla recoiled. Cedar Street's bridge was notorious—a haven for trash, vagrants, and foul odors. "Meet me at the nearby beach," she snapped. "I'll bring the cash."

"Sure."

Meanwhile, Ruben finished loading Kayla's shopping bags. He overheard her mention withdrawing cash. The last time she'd withdrawn cash, it was for Shawn—hush money and a down payment for his failed attempt on Felicia's life. And now… again?

His demeanor shifted instantly. Affecting subservience, he asked, "Ms. Kayla, are we returning to the Fuller residence, or do you have other plans?"

"Take me to the bank," Kayla replied curtly, giving him a disdainful glance. His compliance seemed natural—proof her earlier lessons had taken hold.

"Of course," Ruben said, smiling smoothly, suppressing his excitement at the prospect of uncovering more of Kayla's secrets.

Kayla had no intention of getting her hands dirty. She tossed her card to Ruben. "Withdraw 100,000. The PIN is six eights."

"Yes, Ms. Kayla."

He used three ATMs, carefully stacking the bills before returning them, along with her card, to Kayla.

Kayla took the cash. "Let's go. Take me to the beach near Cedar Street."

"Right away." Ruben, barely concealing his excitement, drove with unusual enthusiasm.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a dimly lit beach. Across the water, neon lights from the nightlife district cast colorful glimmers on the shore. Shawn waited, crouched near the water's edge. His eyes lit up seeing Kayla, money in hand.

Since escaping the hospital, he'd lived like a rat—hiding, scavenging, nursing his injuries. His hand was useless; his body barely held together. He'd even fought elderly vagrants for scraps. Seeing Kayla, he looked like a starving man spotting a feast. He rushed toward her, frantic. "Where's the money?"

Even Kayla, aware of his plight, was shocked. He was filthy, his hair matted, his clothes tattered. He looked worse than most beggars. She hesitated, doubt creeping in. Could this pathetic man handle Felicia?