Sold by My Husband,So I Took His Baby and Vanished

After Russ Harris began his very public pursuit of his innocent little flower, all of Harbor City's elite placed bets on how many days it would take before I lost my mind.

Some even made a point of delivering photos of Russ and his new plaything right to my doorstep.

"Miss Henson, if you don't want pictures of Mr. Harris and his new flame plastered everywhere, you'll pay up."

"The price is reasonable—three million dollars."

In the photographs, the notoriously picky young master of the Harris family—the man who'd spent years refusing anything that wasn't prepared by a private chef—was strolling down the food-stall street with his little flower.

Bite by bite, he ate the stinky tofu she offered him.

I swallowed the ache clawing at my chest, tore the photos to shreds, and threw the blackmailer out.

That was when Captain Eleanor Price Price's call came through.

"Our informant has confirmed it—you've been marked as the killer's next target."

"Just as you predicted. He has a type: wealthy wives whose husbands are cheating on them. Do you need me to assign a protective detail?"

I closed my eyes. Behind my lids, I saw Russ gazing at that girl, his expression soft with adoration.

I let that image burn through every last trace of love I had for him.

When I opened my eyes, my heart was still water.

"Don't make any sudden moves."

"We only get one chance to draw the snake from its hole."

——

"Excuse me—could you sketch a portrait of me and my girlfriend?"

The familiar voice made me look up sharply.

My gaze collided with Russ Harris's beautiful, heavy-lidded eyes.

He used to love watching me draw.

He said that every time he saw me with a brush in hand, he felt a peace that cleansed his soul.

To ensure I would only ever paint him, he'd thrown enough money at me to buy exclusive rights to my portraits for thirty years.

And now—now it was his own voice asking me to paint him with another woman.

The girl blushed at his words, her voice soft and coy: "I haven't even said yes yet! How could you just assume—"

Russ's smile turned wicked. His fingers reached up, pinching her earlobe with casual possessiveness.

"No one else gets to be your boyfriend. Only me."

"You don't have a choice."

That domineering declaration, paired with his devastatingly handsome face, sent the girl into a flutter of pink cheeks and racing heartbeats.

She bit her lip and stomped her foot, refusing to look at him, though her pout betrayed her: "So bossy."

"Only with you."

He laughed. She pouted. They looked like a painting themselves—a perfect couple.

For a moment, I felt like I was watching my own ghost.

He'd been exactly the same with me, back then.

Whenever he caught me sketching someone else, he'd sulk. He'd wheedle. He'd go full tyrant just to get my attention.

"You can't draw other people. Only me."

"Yeah, I'm that possessive. What can I say? I've set my sights on you."

"Can't you just look at me? Only me? Please?"

He'd begged and pleaded, worn me down day after day, all for a single glance.

But he was a young master—heir to a fortune, surrounded by women who would have done anything for his attention.

I warned myself, over and over: Don't soften. Don't fall.

Then one night in Seabrook Island City, my appendix ruptured during a storm. The rain came down in sheets. I couldn't find a car.

I collapsed on the road home.

Russ was the one who noticed something was wrong. He found me, carried me on his back through the downpour, and didn't stop until he'd tracked down a doctor. He stayed through my surgery, scribbling the doctor's instructions into a little notebook, his handwriting cramped and urgent.

He did everything himself. Even the congee I ate during recovery—he made it with his own hands.

The pampered young master who had never so much as boiled water came away with blisters from the hot pot.

My resolve began to crack.

And then it shattered completely.

Part of me kept sounding the alarm: You came to Seabrook Island City on assignment. Your mission is to catch the killer who's murdered several high-society wives.

But the other part—the traitorous part—couldn't stop drowning in his tenderness.

Eventually, Captain Price noticed how entangled I'd become with him. She reassigned my target.