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Chapter 14
Madeline’s mother suddenly butted in. “Savannah? That little tramp? Didn’t she already run off?”
Grayson seized her by the collar, eyes bloodshot with fury.
“Who told you she left? She didn’t leave–she’s just hiding. Hiding from me.”
“My Savannah would never leave me. Never!”
The bodyguards, quick to read the room, immediately slapped several layers of duct tape across the woman’s mouth and dragged her
out.
Madeline used the moment to deflect.
“Mr. Whitaker, the fake disappearances? That was all my mother’s idea! I had nothing to do with it.”
“If someone deserves punishment, it’s her!”
Grayson didn’t even spare her a glance.
“Don’t worry. None of you are getting out of this.”
Madeline’s parents were shipped off to Africa–forced to dig in the mines, day and night, to repay their debt to Grayson.
As for Madeline, she was moved into the dog kennel. She had to personally take care of her canine groom.
That night, Grayson stayed in Savannah’s old bedroom and listened as Madeline screamed for hours.
The beast–her groom–would lunge at her now and then in a fit of madness, scaring her senseless.
The staff had strict orders: keep them locked together in the kennel, and she was not allowed to leave. Not even for a second.
Half a month passed. Eventually, Grayson called in a psychiatrist.
The diagnosis said Madeline was teetering on the edge of a complete mental breakdown.
Any longer in that kennel, and she might actually lose her mind.
So Grayson pulled her out.
And locked her in Brandon’s basement instead. Together.
Because going insane would’ve been too easy.
She needed to stay lucid–so she could fully suffer. So she could feel every ounce of pain she’d once forced Savannah to endure.
Grayson gave strict orders: one plain bun a day. That was all she got. And he told her clearly—once Savannah came back, she’d be
released.
The worst kind of torment wasn’t despair. It was false hope.
The same Madeline who once wished for Savannah’s permanent disappearance now spent every waking second in the darkness,
praying,
Praying Savannah would return to the Whitaker estate as soon as possible.
Brandon, meanwhile, had been tortured beyond recognition.
When the Rowe family finally came to retrieve him, he was barely clinging to life.
Old Mr. Rowe declared war on the spot, vowing to destroy the Whitakers–no matter the cost.
The Rowes weren’t just some minor clan. They were a century–old name in Crestmoor Heights.
And nothing was more terrifying than a family willing to burn everything to the ground for revenge.
Chapter 14
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The Whitaker elders urged Grayson to de–escalate. To give the Rowes some leeway before things spiraled beyond repair.
But Grayson cut all ties with his family.
He had no interest in compromise.
He fought for two months–draining nearly every last reserve of the Whitaker fortune. And in the end, he drove the entire Rowe empire into bankruptcy.
From that day on, people in Crestmoor Heights whispered behind his back: Grayson Whitaker had gone mad.
He adopted a puppy–one that looked eerily like Snowy, the dog Savannah had lost.
He recreated every painting Savannah had ever sketched before she left. When he wasn’t working, he sat alone in the garden, painting and feeding the dog.
As if nothing in the world could stir his soul anymore.
Until five years later–when his assistant burst through the bedroom door, panting.
“Mr. Whitaker–Savannah. We’ve found her.”
The man who had wasted away for so long bolted upright from bed.
“Get me on the next flight to Montclair–now!” he barked.
Chapter 14
