Chapter 7
I couldn't just sit around and wait any longer.
The cops took their sweet time, and they got their own red tape to deal with.
But Vivian's desperate plea kept ringing in my ears.
Seeing that gloom on Lily's face felt like a dagger straight to my heart.
Gregory was like a poisonous snake, hiding in the shadows.
Michael was the snake's flickering tongue—the only part out in the open.
I need to go after him.
I changed into something sharp and entrusted Lily to my mom.
My mom looked at my serious face, worry written all over hers.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Just need to handle some things," I said.
I didn't say anything else.
The fewer people who knew, the better.
I took a cab to the company where Michael worked now.
It was a newly opened investment firm, renting an office in one of the fanciest towers downtown.
How ironic.
Three years ago, he was crashing in a shabby apartment I rented for him, fighting with me over a few thousand dollars in bills until we were both red in the face.
Now, he was sitting here, pretending to be some big shot.
I didn't have an appointment.
The receptionist blocked my way with that fake professional smile.
"I'm here to see Michael," I said.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.
"No," I replied.
"Sorry, Mr. Carter's packed all afternoon," she said.
I stared her down, my eyes cold as ice.
"Tell him Julia Evans is here to see him.
"If he won't see me, I'll just wait right here.
"I'll wait until he gets off work, until everyone sees his ex-wife making a scene at his company's front door."
Her expression shifted, clearly unsettled.
She probably wasn't used to dealing with someone who played by her own rules.
After a brief hesitation, she picked up the office phone and dialed the extension.
I had no idea what was being said on the other end.
When she hung up, her smile froze on her face.
"Mr. Carter wants to see you in his office," she said.
She led me through the glitzy office space.
The employees were all checking me out, curiosity written all over their faces.
I could hear them gossiping in hushed voices.
"Is that the ex-wife?"
"She looks nothing special."
"What did Mr. Carter ever see in her?"
I stayed expressionless, eyes straight ahead, not even bothering to look their way.
Their stares were just background noise to me.
Michael's office was all the way at the end, the one with the best view in the whole place.
I pushed open the door.
He was sitting in a large executive leather chair, his back to me, gazing out at the city skyline.
He didn't even turn around.
"Why are you here?" Michael said.
His voice was deliberately cold and distant, like he was putting on an act.
"I thought we had nothing left to discuss," he added.
I closed the door and locked it.
He stiffened a little when he heard the lock click.
I walked toward him, slow and deliberate.
"Michael, we need to talk about that doll," I said.
He finally turned around.
He looked even thinner than he had three years ago, his cheeks hollow, dark circles under his eyes, and there was a raw exhaustion and panic there he just couldn't cover up.
He forced himself to look composed as he met my gaze.
"What doll? I don't know what you're talking about," Michael said, trying to sound clueless.
"Stop pretending," I said.
My voice was low, but every word was like a nail hammered into his heart.
"That filthy, torn-up rag doll you sent to Lily," I said.
His gaze wavered for a split second.
"When did I ever send her a doll?" Michael said, trying to sound innocent.
"Oh, right, I remember now. My wife sent a gift over a while back.
"Maybe my assistant messed up and sent a defective one by mistake.
"Just toss it out," he said, like it was no big deal.
That casual, dismissive attitude of his just pushed me over the edge.
I pulled out the tissue with the bug hidden inside from my bag.
I tossed it onto his desk.
"Defective?
"Is this thing defective too?"
When he saw the black electronic device, his eyes widened in panic.
His face instantly drained of color.
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
"What... what is this?"
He was still refusing to admit anything.
I let out a cold laugh.
"Michael, how long are you going to keep up this act?
"Do you even know what this did to Lily?" I demanded, my voice cold. "She was terrified because of it.
"Just so you know, I've already called the cops," I added, my tone sharp and unyielding.
"The cops!"
Those words hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest, leaving him reeling.
He shot up from his chair, hands gripping the desk, his whole body trembling with fear.
"You called the cops?
"Are you out of your mind!" he nearly shouted, panic raw in his tone.
He lowered his voice, but it was almost a snarl, barely holding back his fear.
It confirmed everything I suspected. He knew about the bug, and he was absolutely terrified of the cops.
"Me?"
I closed the distance, locking eyes with him, my stare unyielding.
"No, Michael—you're the one who's lost your damn mind!
"What did you sacrifice just to get all this money and everything you have now?
"Are you the one keeping Vivian locked away?
"That woman begging for help—was it her?"
My questions hit him like a rapid-fire barrage, not giving him a moment to breathe.
He kept retreating, step by step, until his back was pressed against the icy floor-to-ceiling window.
All the color vanished from his face.
His lips quivered, but he was completely speechless—not a single word came out.
He stared at me, eyes wide with terror—and just a trace of desperate pleading, begging me for mercy.
"Julia, please, just listen to me..."
He struggled to get the words out, like it took everything he had just to speak.
"Stay out of this.
"This is way over your head.
"It's bad for you, and for Lily.
"Just toss the doll and pretend nothing happened," he begged, almost choking on the words.
"Pretend nothing happened?
I almost laughed out of sheer anger.
"Michael, are you even human?
"That's a life!
"She begged me for help!
"How am I supposed to just act as if nothing happened?" I demanded, my voice trembling with rage.
"Her?"
He let out a crazed, hysterical laugh, as he'd just heard the most ridiculous thing ever.
"You really think she's some innocent good person?
"You think you're some kind of savior?
"Julia, you're just too naive!
"We're all just pieces on his chessboard, you get it?
"From the moment I met him, we've been nothing but pawns!"
"Him?"
I latched onto the key in his sentence.
"Who is he?
"Is it Gregory?"
The moment I said Gregory's name, Michael's laughter stopped cold.
He stared at me like he'd seen a ghost, his eyes wide with terror, fear almost pouring out of him.
"How... how could you possibly know..." he stammered, barely able to get the words out.
He muttered to himself, looking totally lost, like his soul had just left him.
A sudden knock sounded at the office door.
"Mr. Carter, Mr. Lane is here," the receptionist announced.
It was the receptionist.
Michael jerked back to himself like he'd been electrocuted.
He rushed over and seized my arm.
"Quick, go!
"Take the fire escape—don't let him see you!" he urged, his grip tight and desperate.
His grip was shockingly strong, his palms slick with cold sweat.
"I'm not leaving."
I forcefully shook off his grip.
"Until we clear things up right now, I'm staying put."
"You've got a death wish!" Michael growled, his voice low and frantic.
He was desperate, his anger barely contained as he snarled the words.
There was another knock at the door—this time, louder and more forceful.
Michael's face was twisted in utter despair.
He locked eyes with me, his lips moving silently, desperate to get a message across.
I caught what he was mouthing.
He was saying, "The old mansion.
"The ship."