---- Chapter 12 The night air did little to calm the storm in Jackson' s mind. The dream of the wedding, of Elena' s blood on her white dress, played on a loop, a private horror film from which he couldn' t escape. He paced the rooftop, the dead plants like silent accusers. He wouldn't accept it. Without a body, there was no death. It was a simple, desperate logic he clung to like a drowning man to a raft. He pulled out his phone, ready to call his assistant and demand results, when a movement below caught his eye. Acar was parked on the street. His driver' s car. It was nearly 3 a.m. What was he still doing here? As Jackson watched, the driver, a man named Leo, got out of the car. He moved with a strange, furtive energy, glancing around before slipping through the side gate of the villa. A prickle of alarm went up Jackson' s spine. He ducked behind a large, dead potted tree, his eyes fixed on the man below. Leo moved with a quiet confidence that was unsettling. He didn' t fumble with the keys. He walked straight to the keypad of the side door. Jackson heard the soft beeps as he entered a code. The door clicked open. ---- Jackson' s mind raced. How did his driver know the security code? A code that only he, Elena, and the head housekeeper knew. He watched, his breath held tight, as Leo disappeared inside. He followed, his own movements silent and predatory. He had to know what was happening. He saw a light on in one of the downstairs bedrooms. The one he had given to Candida. He assumed the driver was a thief, or worse, an assassin sent by a business rival. He felt a surge of protective fury for the woman sleeping inside. He crept to the bedroom door, his hand reaching for his phone to call security. Then he heard the voices. "Took you long enough," a woman' s voice said, low and sultry. It was Candida. But her tone was different. All the sharp, nervous energy was gone, replaced by a sultry confidence he had never heard before. "Missed me, baby?" a man' s voice purred. Leo' s. Jackson froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. "Aren' t you afraid he' Il find out?" Candida asked, a playful lilt in her voice. "Your boss is a light sleeper." Leo laughed, a low, intimate sound. "He' s too busy mourning his dead wife to notice anything. Besides, even if he did, what ---- could he do?" There was a soft rustle of sheets, a sound that made Jackson ' s blood run cold. "He's so pathetic, isn' t he?" Candida said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Completely wrapped around my little finger." "Thanks to that little trick of yours," Leo said. "That love gu thing is powerful stuff." Jackson felt like he' d been struck by lightning. Love gu. The words meant nothing and everything. A chill, deeper than the night air, seeped into his bones. His mind, which had been a fog for years, suddenly started to clear. His obsession with Candida. His irrational cruelty to Elena. The bouts of memory loss, the moments of confusion. It all clicked into place. He hadn't been in love. He had been poisoned. Drugged. Manipulated. He leaned against the wall, his heart hammering against his ribs, a wild, frantic bird trapped in a cage of his own making. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, forming a picture of a betrayal so vast, so monstrous, it defied comprehension. "And the boy?" Leo's voice drifted through the door. "Does he really think Joey is his?" ---- Candida let out a sharp, cruel laugh. "Of course not. The little brat is yours, my love. Every last drop." The floor gave way beneath Jackson. The air was stolen from his lungs. He slid down the wall, his body trembling, his mind a wasteland of horror and agony. He was a fool. A pawn in their sick, twisted game. He had destroyed his life, destroyed the one person who had ever truly loved him, for a lie. The rage that filled him was a pure, white-hot thing. It burned away the grief, the confusion, the last vestiges of the man he had been. 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