“That’s your problem, not mine.”
“But—”
“I’m going to count to three.One.”
“W-wait?—”
“Two.”
“I d-didn’t?—”
“Thr—”
“I DIDN’T SEE HER!” His voice goes horribly shrill as he screams. “I swear, I haven’t seen her for over an hour!”
“Don’t you fucking lie to me, Bradley Baldwin. I have ways of making you talk.”
There’s a wide circle around us now. Brad’s allies are clutching their pearls at my violence, but not a single one steps up to help.
My father used to say there’s one sure way to measure a man’s life after he’s gone: not the zeroes on his bank account or the length of his obituary, but the number of friends carrying his coffin.
Judging from today, no one’s ever going to be carrying Brad’s.
He seems to realize it the same moment I do: how utterly alone he is. How few real friends he’s made. The second he knows nobody’s coming to save him, all his bravado bleeds away.
“It’s the truth,” he whimpers, white-lipped and trembling. “That bitch just— She fucking up and ditched me here. Crazy, huh?”
His word choice makes my fists tighten. The more time I spend with this man, the more I realize just how unworthy he is of Mia.
“Yeah,” I spit, sarcastic. “Real crazy.”
I let him down. He exhales, relief written all over his face. “Glad we sorted th?—”
Then I punch him in the fucking nose.
The crowd gasps. The whispering grows louder, a buzz like a beehive. Some delicate socialite lets out a scream and faints.
Bradley Baldwin hits the ground with athud,face-first, his nose cracking on the fake Portuguese tiles.
Satisfaction spreads through me, but it’s brief, surface-level. Not at all like I imagined finally punching Brad would feel.
Because, if he really had nothing to do with Mia’s disappearance today, that leaves only one option.
“Maks,” I bark as I stride away from the scene, “how long ago was that picture taken?”
“Before the Baldwins arrived.”
I whirl around and jab a finger in his face. “Mia’s not a fucking Baldwin,” I snarl. “Don’t you ever call her that again.”
“Noted. Nevertheless,” Maks says with a shrug, “he was already here before Brad’s car pulled up. Like we were.”
He was here. He was waiting.
“Show me that picture again.”
Maksim does.
It’s just a face in the crowd. The quality’s not even that good. Realistically speaking, it could be anyone.
