---- Chapter 13 A wave of relief washed over Ethan, so potent it almost buckled his knees. She hadn't done it. She was alive. The relief was immediately followed by a surge of white-hot fury. She had run. The little bird had flown the cage. "Find her!" he roared at his security team, who had gathered in the hallway. "| want every exit of this city covered. Check the airports, the train stations, the bus terminals. | want her found. Now!" They scattered, eager to escape his wrath. He stalked through the empty suite, a caged tiger. He had been so sure of his control, so confident in her inability to leave him. The audacity of her escape was a personal, profound insult. He called her phone. It went straight to voicemail. He checked her credit cards. They were all inactive. She had vanished without a trace. A sudden thought struck him. Her cat. She had a fluffy white cat named Snowball that she adored, a stray she had rescued and nursed back to health. It was boarded at a veterinary clinic nearby, the one she had volunteered at. She would never leave the cat behind. He drove to the clinic, a grim satisfaction settling in his gut. He had found her weakness. He had found his leash. ---- The clinic was closed, but he pounded on the door until the owner, a kindly old veterinarian who had always been fond of Sarah, let him in. "Mr. Vance," Dr. Adams said, his eyes wary. "What can | do for you?" "I'm here for Sarah's cat," Ethan said, his voice clipped. "She hasn't come for him," the doctor said. "| was getting worried." Ethan pushed past him and went to the small, private room in the back that he had funded for Sarah, a place where she could rest during her long volunteer shifts. He expected to find her there, hiding. The room was clean, sterile, and empty. Her personal locker was open, all of her belongings gone. The only thing left was a framed photo on the wall, a picture of a smiling Sarah with her arm around her grandmother, Lily sitting on her lap. They looked so happy. So complete. Without him. He realized with a sickening lurch that she hadn't just run away. She had surgically removed him from her life. She had taken everything that mattered and left behind the hollow shell of the life he had built for her. He reached out and traced the outline of her face in the photograph. He remembered her dream of opening an animal shelter, a dream he had dismissed as a childish fantasy. He ---- remembered her telling him, her eyes shining, that all she wanted was a simple life, a family, a home filled with love. He remembered threatening her with her grandmother's life. He remembered pouring her ashes on the floor. He remembered the lash of the whip against her skin. He had tried to tame her, to break her spirit, to mold her into his perfect wife. But in his obsession to control her, he had crushed the very things he had first loved about her: her fire, her kindness, her indomitable will. He had drained all the love she had for him, drop by painful drop, until there was nothing left but hate and fear. A single, hot tear escaped his eye and tracked down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, angry at his own weakness. He was not crying for her. He was crying for his own failure. He turned to Dr. Adams, his face a cold mask once more. "Keep the cat here," he commanded. "Feed it the best food. I'll cover all the expenses. And call me the second she comes for it." He would use the cat as bait. He would wait. And when she finally slipped up, when her love for that stupid animal finally lured her out of hiding, he would be there. He would catch her, and this time, he would lock her in a cage so deep she would never see the light of day again. He would never let her go.