Chapter 1

Mandy Sherman was the wife I kept out in the countryside, the one I married before I made it. After I hit it big, she became a stubborn stain on my reputation that I couldn't scrub away.

When I brought Chloe Ludwig home, Mandy wouldn't take the hint. She wouldn't leave, wouldn't shut up, and wouldn't stop making scenes for years.

In the first year, Mandy came to me with our newborn daughter in her arms, begging me not to divorce her. I had every last thing she owned dumped on the street.

In the second year, she came knocking in the dead of winter, bruised and clutching a police report, begging for help. I figured she was playing me, tossed fifty grand on the ground, and told her to get lost.

In the third and fourth years, she vanished. I figured she was finally smart enough to stay gone.

Then, in the fifth year, that number flashed on my screen again. A voice cried, "Dad, the guy who hit Mom drove off. But Mom's not waking up, and I can't make her."

*****

When the call came in, I was busy admiring my fiancée Chloe as she tried on the only custom wedding dress in the whole city.

To marry Chloe, I had already divorced my ex-wife, Mandy.

When I heard, "Mom's not waking up, and I can't make her," the first thing that hit me wasn't concern. It was straight-up disgust.

Five years gone, and Mandy showed up again, pulling her same old tricks.

In the first couple of years, she came begging, waving fake injury reports to squeeze money out of me. Then she disappeared for two years, and now she had learned to use our kid as bait?

"Dylan, who was that?" Chloe lifted her dress hem as she turned around, her smile radiant.

I hung up, tossed my phone onto the couch, and wrapped my arm around her waist. "A spam call. Don't worry about it."

"Really?" Chloe gave me a suspicious look. "Was that your ex-wife?"

My face darkened. "Why bring her up? Bad luck."

Chloe pouted, her voice sweet. "We're getting married, so you'd better clean up all your old messes. My dad said if you keep messing around with that woman, you won't get a single thing from the Ludwig family."

I smiled and coaxed her, but inside I was a little annoyed.

It wasn't that I cared about Mandy. It was the child. After all, she had my blood in her veins.

If Mandy really brought our daughter into the news and stirred up trouble, it'd be a nightmare to deal with right now.

After the wedding dress fitting, I dropped Chloe off at her place.

That line, "Mom's not waking up," kept poking at me like a thorn, nagging at my nerves.

Feeling irritated, I loosened my tie and called back.

The phone rang for ages before the call was finally answered.

"Dad." The voice was barely audible, choked with sobs.

"Where's your mom? Put her on." I gripped the steering wheel, my tone sharp. "Stop playing games. If you want money, say so."

"Mom... Mom won't talk..." The kid's voice trembled, sounding scared out of her wits. "There's so much blood. Mom's really cold. I am so hungry."

Blood? Was Mandy trying to fool me again? What did she use? Fake blood from the Halloween store?

"Where are you?" I asked, keeping my patience.

"We're in a dark building under a big chimney."

I knew exactly where that was. It was the old apartment building in Southgate, the filthiest, most rundown part of the city, marked for demolition.

I let out a cold laugh and started the car.

Let's see how much better Mandy had gotten at playing the victim after five years.

*****

My sports car rattled through the pothole-ridden streets of Southgate, mud splattering across the paint. With every block, my temper flared hotter.

If Mandy thought she could get me to feel sorry for her with this stunt, she couldn't be more wrong.

I parked at the alley entrance. The street ahead was too narrow for my car.

As soon as I stepped out, the reek of rotting trash and sewage slammed into me.

I pinched my nose and headed inside, stepping through puddles of filthy water.

A few old ladies sat on either side of the alley, giving me hungry stares.

"Hey there, who are you looking for?"

"Looks rich. Is he here for that crazy lady?"

I stopped and gave them a cold stare. "Where does Mandy live?"

The old ladies exchanged glances, then pointed toward the building at the very back. "Third floor, all the way to the left. The room with no windows. That's the one."

I headed up the stairs.

The hallway was piled high with junk, chunks of plaster missing from the walls, exposing the red brick beneath.

Every step I took made the wooden floorboards groan. The sound grated on my nerves.

When I got to the third floor, I didn't even need to look around. The door on the far left was half-open, covered from top to bottom in black and red footprints, like someone had kicked it in over and over.

The lock was busted, barely hanging on the door.

I slammed my foot against the door, kicking it wide open.

The room was dim as a basement, no lights on. The air reeked of mold and something metallic, like the smell of blood.

"Mandy!" I shouted from the doorway.

Silence. All I could hear was a soft shuffling sound coming from the corner.