Chapter 615:

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“Enjoying the breeze, Mr. Thornton?” Brice’s voice was smooth, laced with mockery. “I thought you’d be the most sought-after partner on the dance floor.”

Garrett didn’t turn around. He flicked the ash from his cigarette. “I’m not interested in dancing. I’m more interested in you, Mr. Langley.”

Brice came to stand beside him, gazing out at the estate’s glittering grounds. “Oh? I’m honored.”

A dangerous silence stretched between them.

Garrett crushed the cigarette under his heel and finally turned to face him. “Let’s stop the games. You went to a lot of trouble to get me here. What do you want?”

Brice smiled, the gold rims of his glasses glinting, his eyes bright with a feverish excitement. “What do I want? Why, to watch a good show, of course.”

𝘋о𝗐𝘯l𝘰𝘢𝗱𝗮b𝗅𝖾 𝘗𝖣𝖥𝘴 𝘰𝗻 g𝘢l𝗻o𝗏𝘦𝘭s.𝗰𝗼𝘮

He stepped closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, a devil’s murmur meant only for Garrett’s ears. “A show about betrayal, despair, and death.”

Garrett’s pupils contracted.

Brice savored the reaction, his voice dripping with poison. “Aren’t you curious? Your wife, Amelia Frye. Where is she right now?”

At the mention of Amelia’s name, a murderous aura exploded out of Garrett. He lunged, his hand fisting in the front of Brice’s tailored suit.

“What did you do to her?” he snarled, his voice raw with fury.

Brice showed no fear. He laughed, a high, unhinged sound. “Me? I did nothing. I just… gave someone an address.”

He calmly smoothed the lapels Garrett had crushed. “You know that safe house she was in? Lovely view. A shame about the storm tonight, though.”

Garrett’s mind went blank. Brice’s words confirmed his worst nightmare. The safe house had been compromised.

From a distance, Casey Henderson saw the confrontation escalate and his heart seized, but he remembered Clarence’s order and forced himself to stay where he was, watching intently.

Seeing Garrett lose control, Brice pressed his advantage. “Don’t be so tense. Maybe she’s fine. Maybe she just had a little traffic accident on the way to the hospital.”

His voice dropped again, each word a poisoned dart. “Premature birth, perhaps? A major hemorrhage?”

Garrett’s eyes turned bloodshot. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine what Amelia was going through.

He stared at Brice, his rage so absolute it nearly stole his sanity. But a sliver of cold logic cut through the red haze.

Brice’s words were too specific. Premature birth. Hospital. Traffic accident. This wasn’t a guess. It was a statement of fact. He knew too much.

And his expression, that ecstatic enjoyment of Garrett’s pain, that sick, obsessive fascination with his suffering, went far beyond a son avenging a stepmother.

A wild, insane thought sparked in Garrett’s mind.

He released Brice’s suit and took a step back, looking at him with new, assessing eyes.

His voice was suddenly, terrifyingly calm. “You’re not Brice Langley.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a declaration.

The smile on Brice’s face froze. He was stunned. He had never imagined that Garrett, under this much emotional pressure, could still think, could still notice the one fatal flaw in his performance.

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