Chapter 81

On their third day in Annecy, Asher received a call from his associate, Lucas, informing him that Vanessa had been found. Thalia, worn out from sightseeing, wanted to return home to rest, so they packed their luggage and headed back to London.

After feigning pregnancy and being released from detention, Vanessa had been abducted by Grace's people and smuggled to the Middle East. Grace's promises of accommodation and employment never materialized. Instead, Vanessa was sold to a fraudulent operation, where she endured horrific abuse and lived in subhuman conditions. Asher's people located her. The operation's British leader, aware of the Blackwood family's power, surrendered her.

In a dimly lit basement, Vanessa was tied to a wooden chair. Her hair was disheveled, her body wounded, her appearance wretched. These injuries were inflicted not by the Blackwoods, but by the operation's overseers.

Asher entered, dressed entirely in black, his demeanor cold and severe. He sat several meters from Vanessa, his gaze fierce. "Tell me, who put you up to this?"

Seeing Asher, Vanessa broke down. "Asher, don't—don't look at me!" her voice hoarse with tears, her eyes flashing with despair. "I look dreadful."

Asher frowned. To him, she was merely a criminal; her appearance was inconsequential. Hearing nothing useful, he lost patience. "Did I stutter?"

Vanessa shook her head. "I can't tell you. I… I had no choice. For all those years I loved you, couldn't you just let me go?"

Asher's eyes were ice-cold. "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

Vanessa begged, "Please, Asher, I truly can't say. Please spare me. I didn't mean to ruin your engagement ceremony…" Her tone changed, her face full of concern. "Has your wound healed? I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you… I…"

She hadn't intended to harm Thalia either. Grace had forced her hand! But she couldn't say that; her father remained in Grace's clutches. She had been tortured for over a month. She hated Grace intensely, but couldn't betray her father, her only remaining family.

Seeing his unyielding demeanor, Vanessa despaired. "Asher, just kill me. I cannot tell you…"

"Why would I kill you?" Asher's face remained severe. "Miss Miller, since you refuse to tell me anything, don't blame me for what comes next." He coldly rose.

"Asher, what are you going to do to me?" Vanessa's pale, tear-streaked face was desolate. Asher's eyes were glacial. He didn't answer, turning to leave.

"Asher, don't go!" Vanessa cried. "Won't you stay with me a bit longer?" Her voice was wretched, filled with pathetic pleading. "During this past month, I suffered inhuman torment. I… I…" She sobbed. "I was defiled! They were monsters! I was beaten daily. The food was worse than pig slop. Asher, I nearly couldn't go on living. Do you know, throughout this terrible month, you were my only hope for survival. Just thinking of you gave me the courage to live on…"

Asher remained motionless, his expression unchanged. She continued, "Every day I told myself I had to persevere. I had to live to escape that place. Only by living could I see you again. If I died, I would never see you again…"

"Asher, please, I beg you, stay with me a little while. I'm nearly mad. Every time I close my eyes, I see those beasts violating me. The pain in my heart is a thousand times worse than any physical pain…" Vanessa cried. "Won't you talk with me a bit longer? Even if you just scold me… Don't go, don't leave me, don't… I truly… truly wanted to see you so badly… You are the only light in my life!"

Most men would be moved by such words. But Asher remained unmoved. His heart didn't stir; he didn't even look back. He left. Vanessa watched his departure, the last glimmer of hope extinguished.

Outside, Asher told his bodyguard, "Find a way to get her to talk. Extract something useful."

"Yes, sir."

Sympathy? Compassion? He might possess these qualities, but he would never waste them on a criminal who had nearly killed Thalia. Those who harmed Thalia would pay dearly!

Leaving, Asher glanced at his watch—ten o'clock. Thalia would be waking up hungry. She had slept soundly after the previous night's intimacy, not waking until midday.

Sunlight streamed through the half-drawn curtains, illuminating the pale blue duvet. Dust motes danced in the light. As Thalia opened her eyes, she smelled food. Wearing teddy bear pajamas, her hair disheveled, she followed the delicious aroma.

The dining room table was set with a Sunday roast. The extractor fan hummed in the kitchen. Thalia peered towards it. Asher emerged, wearing an apron, carrying leek and potato soup. "You're awake, I see?"

He placed the soup on the table—Thalia's favorite. "Hungry, darling? Go wash your hands and we'll eat." He still wore the apron, the picture of domestic bliss.

Thalia's eyes were drowsy. "Why haven't you gone to work yet?"

Asher untied the apron. "I thought you'd be famished, so I picked up some bits from Waitrose to cook for you."

Thalia rubbed her eyes, her voice soft and sweet. "How terribly domestic of you."

"Only for you," Asher replied, his eyes filled with deep tenderness.