Gone Beyond Her Reach

Damon Westbrook was kidnapped and held in the mountains for three months, subjected to every kind of humiliation. Three hellish months ground away every bit of fight he had. After his rescue, he developed severe PTSD. He hurt himself. He tried to end his life. Nightmares came every night. Through it all, Eleanor Carrington never left his side, holding him and comforting him again and again. "Damon, I'll always be here. When you're better, we'll get married." To help him heal, Eleanor brought back Marcus Keane, a former upperclassman of hers in college, who was finishing his doctorate in psychology overseas. The first time Damon met Marcus, he seemed calm and gentle, considerate in every way. "Don't be afraid. Eleanor and I will make sure you recover completely." Damon was deeply grateful. He cooperated with every treatment. Even when the sessions left him wishing he were dead, he gritted his teeth and endured. He believed everyone was doing everything they could to save him. Until tonight. The sliding glass door to the balcony hadn't closed all the way, and two low voices carried clearly to him. Eleanor and Marcus. Marcus took out a cigarette, his tone light. "When my research hit a dead end, I had no choice but to come to you for help. I never expected—" Eleanor turned her back to the wind and lit it for him. "Once the experiment is done, your dissertation is guaranteed to win the top international award." Marcus exhaled a stream of smoke and chuckled. "I only said in passing that a real case would be nice. I never thought you'd arrange a kidnapping yourself—let alone the kidnapping of the man you're about to marry." Chapter 1 Thunder cracked across the night, and Damon Westbrook's world blew apart. He stood frozen behind the half-open balcony door. His hands and feet had gone ice-cold, and his ears rang. She planned it herself? The nightmare that had destroyed his life wasn't an accident? Eleanor Carrington had arranged the whole thing herself, just to help Marcus Keane finish his research? Marcus's voice drifted in through the glass, light and careless. "The next phase of treatment is going to be hard. It's the core of the entire study. Will Damon cooperate?" Eleanor answered evenly, "Don't worry. He does whatever I tell him now." "And if he ever finds out it was you..." Eleanor took the cigarette from his fingers and drew on it deeply. "By then, all anyone will see is how you cured a man with severe PTSD. No one's going to dig into what happened to him. It'll be over for good." Ha. A laugh escaped Damon before he could stop it. Three full months of endless hard labor, beatings, and confinement. Every escape attempt had bought him crueler punishment. The wounds on his body could heal. The humiliation seared into him never would. And the person he trusted most—the woman who had sworn she would never marry anyone but him—had traded the trauma he would carry for the rest of his life for Marcus's bright future. The night wind outside was bitter, but he no longer felt the cold. More than half a year of trust and dependence had turned into a grotesque joke. Every day he had clawed his way through, desperate to stay alive, had been nothing more than data for Marcus to observe. Damon closed his eyes. A single tear slid from the corner of his eye. If he hadn't heard it with his own ears, he never would have believed Eleanor could lie to him like this. Seven years ago, the Westbrook family went bankrupt. Overnight, Damon went from a rich man's son to a broke student working his way through college just to finish his degree. The Carringtons kicked him while he was down and seized the chance to call off the engagement. It was Eleanor who knelt before her father and threatened to end her own life if he broke it off. That was the only reason the engagement survived. When she came to find Damon afterward, she still bore the welts where her father's cane had come down on her. Damon swallowed his heartbreak and tried to end things. "Eleanor, with my family the way it is now, I'm not good enough for you." But she clutched his hand, her eyes red. "To me, you're the best person in the whole world. I'm the one who's afraid I'm not good enough for you." That night, they held each other close and gave themselves to one another completely. Seven years had passed. The girl who refused to give in even when her father beat her had long since grown up. And the purest love they'd shared had faded right along with her girlhood. When Damon opened his eyes again, the fear that had coiled around him for countless days and nights was suddenly gone. He slowly raised his gaze. A cure? He didn't need one. His illness couldn't be cured. And he no longer wanted it to be. In the darkness, he slowly curled his fingers into a fist. They had destroyed his life with their own hands and turned his suffering into fame and fortune. Then he would drag them down to hell with him. Chapter 2 Damon went back to the bedroom and lay down. Not long after, Eleanor pushed the door open and came in. Her footsteps drew closer. Damon slowly closed his eyes. Eleanor stopped beside his bed and quietly looked at him. Damon wondered what he was to her right now. The man she loved? Or rows and rows of cold experimental data? Eleanor crouched down and brushed her fingers lightly across his cheek. Damon couldn't help it. His whole body shuddered. "Another nightmare?" Her voice was impossibly gentle, and she patted his back softly. A bitter ache rose in Damon's chest, and his eyes reddened before he realized it. He wanted to ask whether what he'd just overheard was real. Maybe it had all been a delusion, something his trauma had invented? Eleanor obviously loved him! And Marcus had always been so refined and kind. "Eleanor." Damon sat up. In the darkness, his eyes were frighteningly bright. "Hm?" "I've heard that some doctors deliberately inject patients with viruses for the sake of their research." He paused, then went on. "Do you think Dr. Keane might also..." "Damon!" Eleanor shot to her feet, her expression turning icy. "Marcus has poured everything into treating you. He's lost weight over it. How can you accuse him like that?" Damon stared at her blankly. It was the first time since his rescue that Eleanor had ever lost her temper with him. And it was for Marcus. Realizing she'd lost her composure, Eleanor turned her head away and cleared her throat. "Damon, you have to trust us. We're both trying to help you." The light in Damon's eyes dimmed bit by bit. "Okay. I'll cooperate with the treatment." He rolled over and lay back down. "I'm tired." Eleanor tucked the blanket around him and kissed his forehead. "Get some sleep. I'm going to the study to go over the next stage of your treatment with Marcus." The door clicked shut. Damon opened his eyes. He didn't know why, but something made him pull up the camera feed for the study. Eleanor had been so afraid something might happen to him that she'd installed cameras in nearly every corner of the house. The moment the feed loaded, Damon went cold. Eleanor—who had supposedly gone to discuss his treatment plan with Marcus—was locked in Marcus's arms! On the screen, Marcus swallowed hard, barely holding himself back. Eleanor rested her head against his chest, one hand roaming restlessly over him. "Eleanor, Damon's done so much for my research, and here I am taking his woman for myself. Doesn't that make me a terrible person?" Eleanor frowned, grabbed his hand, and pressed it firmly to her chest. "Don't bring him up right now." Then she rose onto her toes and kissed him. The hand holding Damon's phone wouldn't stop shaking. No wonder she had engineered her own fiancé's kidnapping for the sake of some so-called old friend from school. Their relationship had never been innocent to begin with! Fighting back the churning in his stomach, Damon hit screen record. The rustle of clothes coming off and the unrestrained breathing of a man and a woman filled his ears. He muted the sound and turned the phone facedown. Those images and sounds dragged the three nightmarish months back up from his memory, piece by piece. When Eleanor had walked into the cellar and come toward him that day, he'd screamed and fought on instinct. "Stay away! Don't touch me!" Red-eyed, Eleanor had wrapped her arms around him again and again, even as his fists and feet landed on her without mercy. "Damon, it's me! Damon, don't be scared!" Looking back now, how much of that had been real, and how much had been guilt? Chapter 3 The next morning, Damon came downstairs and immediately saw Eleanor and Marcus sitting on opposite sides of the breakfast table. Eleanor pulled out the chair beside her. "Damon, sit here." Damon pulled out a chair on the other side instead and sat down. Marcus smiled and poured him a glass of milk. "Damon, Eleanor and I have finalized your next treatment plan." He pushed a thick stack of documents in front of Damon. "Once these sessions are over, you'll never have another nightmare." Damon took a sip of milk and began reading carefully. Marcus looked a little surprised. After all, for the past few months, Damon had never once looked at a treatment plan. Damon turned page after page, and the further he read, the further his heart sank. This wasn't treatment. This was abuse! He fought down the urge to tear the plan to shreds on the spot. "Dr. Keane, this is the treatment plan the two of you came up with? I'm sorry. I won't go along with it." He stood to leave, but Eleanor caught his wrist. "Damon, we're doing this for your own good. Don't be difficult." Damon pointed at the first method, his voice shaking. "Repeated retelling? 'The patient recounts the traumatic experience over and over until able to describe it calmly.' "Eleanor, you know that telling it even once would break me. You call that for my own good?" Marcus rose, came around the table, pressed a hand on Damon's shoulder, and took the documents back. "Damon, how will you know it isn't good for you if you won't even try?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Eleanor. "Eleanor, we can begin." The words had barely left his mouth when Damon's vision went black. Before he passed out, his eyes fell on the glass of milk Marcus had poured him. When he came to, Damon was in the treatment room, his wrists and ankles strapped down so he couldn't move. With a sharp click, the light overhead flared on. Marcus appeared in front of him wearing a white coat. "Damon, we can start the first retelling." Damon bit down hard on his lower lip and refused to speak. Behind Marcus's glasses, his eyes turned vicious in an instant. He seized Damon's chin. "Damon, I'd advise you to cooperate. Otherwise, you'll never see your grandmother again." Damon went rigid. He glared at Marcus. "What did you do to my grandmother? She's old. She can't take this!" Marcus let go, stepped back, and held up his phone, turning the screen toward him. On it, Eleanor was pushing Ruth, Damon's grandmother, in her wheelchair along the riverbank. "Your grandmother's doing just fine. But if you don't cooperate, I can't promise what might happen to her." Marcus put the phone away. "Imagine if she accidentally fell into the river. With her legs the way they are, do you think she'd..." "Marcus, what the hell do you want?" Damon's eyes were bloodshot as he roared at him. After the bankruptcy, Damon's parents had buckled under the strain and died one after the other. Ruth was the last family he had left in the world. Marcus spread his hands, utterly unconcerned. "Cooperate with treatment, and she'll be perfectly safe." Damon closed his eyes. Ruth's loving smile flashed before him. "Fine. I'll cooperate." "I was locked in a cellar where no light ever came in, chained at the wrists and ankles. "Every day, the moment I opened my eyes, they forced me into hard labor. Breaking rock. Chopping wood. Never enough to eat. "When I worked too slowly, they beat me. Clubs. Boots. "If I fought back or tried to run, they beat me and humiliated me in front of everyone." After the first retelling, Damon's face had gone ashen. He couldn't stop shaking, and his temples throbbed as if needles were being driven into them. The second time, he doubled over, retching until there was nothing left but bile. The third time, he was screaming as he spoke, unable to get out a single complete sentence. The fourth time... Marcus recorded Damon's reactions with a blank face and still didn't seem satisfied. "Again." By now, Damon's mind was going hazy. He shook his head and begged, "Don't make me say it again..." On the phone screen, Eleanor pushed Ruth's wheelchair out to the edge of the embankment and spoke low into the phone. "Damon, say it one last time, and I'll take her back to her room." Damon stared at her, wild-eyed. "Eleanor, if I keep going, I'll die. I'll die." Eleanor's hands nudged the wheelchair forward. Ruth swayed and nearly toppled over the edge. "Okay! I'll say it!" Gulping for air, Damon told the whole nightmare one more time. The moment he finished the last word, the restraints came off. Drained of all strength, Damon slumped to the floor. Eleanor rushed in and threw her arms around him. The heartache in her eyes didn't look fake. "Damon, your grandmother's back home. Don't worry." Damon raised his hand to slap her, but it landed weakly. He didn't even have the strength left to hit her. Chapter 4 Damon had another nightmare. The filthy cellar. One snarling face after another. "No!" He jolted awake, clutching the edge of the blanket. Eleanor came running at the sound and held him tight. Damon was trembling all over. "Eleanor, I don't want any more treatment." The hand soothing him paused. "Damon, these reactions are completely normal. Marcus says once you get through this, you'll be fully recovered." Damon stared at her. Was this still the Eleanor who'd once had eyes only for him? "Eleanor, let's break up." Her expression hardened. "Damon, you shouldn't threaten me with a breakup." She tenderly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and softened her voice. "Don't blame Marcus for today. If you hadn't refused to cooperate, I never would have used your grandmother to make you give in. "Damon, once this month of treatment is over, we'll get married. Isn't seeing you married your grandmother's greatest wish? Could you really bear to disappoint her?" Damon raised a hand and gently touched her face. His fingers came to rest on her lips. "Marcus has kissed you here, hasn't he?" Eleanor froze—then, of all things, she looked relieved. "Damon, I'm a normal woman. I have needs. I have desires. "But ever since you... I understand why you pull away from me, but you have to understand me too." Damon laughed despite himself, though his voice shook badly. "Understand that you're sleeping with another man?" Eleanor frowned. "Damon, don't put it so crudely." She got up and walked to the window. "A woman like me is never going to have just one man around her. You should have figured that out a long time ago." She glanced back at him. "But don't worry. You're the only one I'm going to marry." Damon rubbed his stinging eyes. Strangely, his heart didn't even hurt anymore. He knew Eleanor moved in a circle of wealth and privilege, where heiresses kept admirers swarming around them like accessories. He had thought she was the exception. Now it seemed she was no different. All he had ever wanted, from beginning to end, was to be truly loved—not the title of fiancé. "Cooperate with everything Marcus has planned. Get through it, and you'll be the man everyone envies—Eleanor Carrington's man." "And if I don't get through it?" Eleanor shook her head. "There's no 'if.'" The treatment continued. Damon was brought back to the treatment room. This time, what waited for him was a face. The moment that face appeared before him, Damon's mind shattered. For three solid months, that face had been his tormentor. The monster. He spun around to run, only to find the door locked. Behind him came the monster's laugh. "Long time no see. Miss me?" The hair on the back of Damon's neck stood on end. He huddled in the corner, screaming, his palms beating against the wall. "Eleanor, help me!" On the other side of the observation glass, Eleanor watched him quietly. When he cried out for her, her hands clenched into fists. But Marcus, beside her, quickly calmed her. "Don't worry. He's not really going to hurt Damon. "Facing his fear head-on will help his treatment." She slowly unclenched her fists. After a long silence, she nodded. "Good." The blinds came down, shutting off the view of the room. Eleanor looked puzzled. Marcus put an arm around her shoulders. "If he can't see you, it'll trigger his own survival instincts." The instant the blinds were fully lowered, the monster lunged at Damon in the corner. Through the glass, Damon could clearly hear Marcus and Eleanor discussing what to have for dinner. "French? That place you said you liked last time." "Or Italian? We could have a glass of wine." In despair, Damon reached up and pounded on the glass, begging in Eleanor's direction over and over. "Help me..." When the blinds rose again, the room was in shambles. Damon lay sprawled on the floor, his face white as a sheet, his eyes already losing focus. Eleanor frowned and turned to Marcus. "Something's wrong with Damon. Don't tell me..." Chapter 5 When Damon woke, Eleanor was keeping watch beside him. The slightest movement made his body feel like it was being torn apart. "Damon, you're awake?" Eleanor hurried to help him sit up and poured him a glass of water. Damon didn't take it. He looked at her coldly. "Why didn't you come in and save me? Do you have any idea..." A flicker of pain crossed Eleanor's eyes and was gone in an instant. "I know, Damon. I know. I've had Wade Briggs locked up. He's going to pay for this. Marcus feels terrible about it, too." "Terrible?" Damon's mouth twisted into a cold smile. "Does he feel terrible, or does he feel pleased with himself?" He groped around for his phone. When he found it, he dialed 911. "I'm calling the police. I'm calling the police..." "You can't call the police!" Eleanor snatched his phone away and gripped his wrist. "Do you want to ruin Marcus? "I'll hold on to your phone for now. You'll get it back when treatment's over." Damon tried to grab it, but Eleanor backed away to the door. She looked at him, her tone softening. "Damon, it was just one time. It's not like you've never..." At the words "just one time," Damon's tears slowly fell. Just one time? What had been done to him meant so little to her that she could brush it off like that. Eleanor sighed, looking weary. "Damon, stop making a scene. As soon as treatment ends, we'll get married. No one will dare point fingers at you. Isn't that enough?" Damon's heart, already in pieces, shattered completely in that moment. He had believed that after all the years they'd loved each other, she would understand him. It turned out she had never known what he wanted. He lowered his eyes. "Fine. How much longer is the treatment?" The moment he agreed, Eleanor's expression eased. She stroked his face tenderly. "Damon, hold on for one more week. Just one more week." Damon clenched his fists. One week. If he could just survive one week, he could take Ruth and get out of here. Marcus seemed rather surprised by Damon's cooperation. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a venomous gleam in his eyes behind the lenses. "Damon, I designed this last treatment especially for you." A sense of foreboding rose in Damon. "I have one condition. "Give me back my phone." Once he had the phone, Damon's first call was to Ruth. "Grandma, it's Damon. "Grandma, take good care of yourself." His second call went to Eleanor's sworn rival in business. "I can help you take Eleanor down for good." The voice on the other end gave a scornful laugh. "What do you want?" Damon lowered his voice. "In one week, I want you to get my grandmother and me out of here." A moment of silence. "Deal." That night, Damon sat on the swing in the yard, rocking back and forth. Tomorrow they would take him away for treatment. He had no idea what was waiting for him. But he knew it would be hard to survive. The house blazed with light. It was Marcus's birthday, and Eleanor had invited a few friends over to celebrate. Damon had spent his own birthday this year in that broken-down cellar. No cake. No presents. Only endless darkness. "Damon? Why aren't you coming inside?" Marcus had appeared behind him at some point, a glass of champagne in hand, smiling at him. Damon remembered the first time he'd met Marcus. Spotless white coat, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, a smile that looked completely harmless. Who would have guessed that beneath that pleasant exterior was a viper? "Dr. Keane, doesn't all this wear you out?" Marcus paused, then took a sip of champagne. "Of course it does. But what can I do? Eleanor likes it." He stepped behind Damon and lightly brushed his fingers along the back of Damon's neck. "Sometimes there's only a thin line between an angel and a demon." Damon couldn't stop a shiver. "What exactly do you want?" Marcus drained his champagne and leaned down close. "Fame. Status. Power. Money! Is that so hard to guess?" Damon turned his head, saw the madness in Marcus's eyes, and shook his head, baffled. "Those aren't things you can steal or con your way into. If you do, you'll lose them sooner or later." "What do you know?" Marcus's voice suddenly rose. "I worked so hard abroad—studying, researching, writing papers. And what did I get for it?" He was a little drunk now, his gaze unfocused. "Success comes at a price. And the price is your conscience." Damon shot to his feet. "Aren't you afraid Eleanor will see who you really are someday?" Marcus burst out laughing and stumbled. "Afraid? I'm not afraid of anything. Because—" He paused. "She's pregnant with my child." Damon froze where he stood. "What are you two talking about?" Eleanor stood on the steps, watching them. Damon walked over and looked at her earnestly. "Congratulations, Eleanor." Chapter 6 Before dawn the next day, Damon was dragged out of bed and shoved into the back seat of a black SUV. The windows were covered with curtains, so he couldn't see where they were going. "Eleanor, where are you taking me?" Eleanor gave him a complicated look and didn't answer. "Drink some water. Get a little more sleep." Damon took the bottle and drank, then leaned back in his seat, resigned. He drifted in and out the whole way. When he opened his eyes again, he was blindfolded, his wrists and ankles bound. He tried to speak. There was a gag in his mouth. Damon was instantly wide awake. He called Eleanor's name through the gag until his throat went raw. No one answered. Bang— The car door was yanked open. Before Damon could react, he was hauled out of the back seat. He struggled in terror, twisting his body to break free. Then he caught a familiar smell. Damon shuddered. His scalp prickled. He knew that smell all too well. The cellar! The blindfold was ripped away, and Damon finally saw it. He really was back where the nightmare had begun. Eleanor and Marcus stood in the cellar doorway with the light behind them. He couldn't make out their expressions. The ropes around his wrists and ankles were untied, leaving the skin mottled with bruises. Damon ignored them and pulled the gag out of his mouth first. "Eleanor, I want to go home." He tried to get up and walk out, but his legs gave way beneath him. There was no strength left in him at all. He could only lie limp on the floor. Now he finally understood what Marcus had meant by a treatment designed especially for him. He struggled to lift his head and looked at Eleanor. Her face was pale, her brows knitted tight. "Eleanor, take me home." His voice shook beyond recognition. His face was streaked with tears. Eleanor took an instinctive step toward him, but Marcus blocked her. "Eleanor, this is the most critical step. You can't go soft now." He looked back at Damon, a cold, vicious glint in his eyes. "Damon, once you walk out of here, you'll be cured." He took Eleanor's hand. "Let's go, Eleanor. You have to trust Damon. He's going to conquer his demons." Eleanor hesitated and pressed her lips together. "Damon, I'll come back for you in three days." At her words, Damon's blood ran cold. "No! Eleanor! Don't leave me here, please!" He crawled toward her on his hands and knees, his elbows and knees scraping across the rough concrete. He screamed with everything he had. "Eleanor, I'll die! I'll die!" But the door still swung slowly shut in front of him. Bang. Then came the sound of a chain being wrapped around the door. Clank. Clank. The heavy wooden door cut off his cries for help completely. Eleanor frowned at the locked door, uncertain. Marcus caught her unease immediately and squeezed her hand. "Eleanor, if you want to stop now, I'll end the treatment right away." She frowned even more deeply. Marcus sighed and made as if to unlock the cellar door. "I'll tell my advisor the experiment failed. I'll give up my doctorate." "Wait!" Eleanor grabbed his arm. "Keep going with the treatment. I trust you. Let's go." Marcus pulled her into his arms gratefully. "Thank you, Eleanor." The car drove off. Damon heard the tires crunching over the ground and closed his eyes in despair. He knew no one could save him. No one but himself. As the sedative gradually wore off, Damon finally got his strength back. He ran to the corner, picked up a wooden post, and swung it at the door bolt. The bolt loosened but stayed jammed. Seeing a glimmer of hope, Damon picked up a stone from the floor to try to pry it open. "What do you think you're doing?" Damon froze mid-motion. He knew that voice far too well. It had haunted his nightmares night after night! Chapter 7 Damon turned around slowly, trembling. It was the monster. Wade Briggs! "Eleanor had you locked up. Why are you here?" Damon swallowed nervously, his stomach churning. He doubled over, retching, but nothing came up except bile. Briggs patted the roll of fat on his belly and picked his teeth with a pinky nail. "You'll have to ask Dr. Keane about that. He paid me good money to take real special 'care' of you." He strolled toward Damon, rubbing his hands together. "Tsk, tsk. Bet you never thought you'd see me again, huh?" Damon went rigid, his back pressed hard against the door. "Stay away! Stay away from me! "Help! Somebody help me!" Briggs lunged. "Nobody's coming to save you. Don't waste your breath." It was exactly like three months ago! "Get away! Get away from me!" But the sedative hadn't fully worn off. He had no strength to fight back. He closed his eyes in despair. Suddenly, Damon remembered the day Eleanor had proposed to him. She had held the diamond ring in her hand, her gaze full of sincerity. All around them, the guests looked on with envy. "That's the only yellow diamond of its kind in the world. It's worth over fifteen million. She must really love him." "True love shows itself in hard times. Looks like they got their happy ending!" Eleanor had been so nervous her hands were shaking. Her eyes red, she made her vow. "Damon, I'll love you and protect you forever. I'll never let you down. "Will you be my husband?" Amid the guests' cheers, Damon held out his hand and let her slide the ring—a symbol of forever—onto his ring finger. Her vow still echoed in his ears, but the woman who'd made it had long since broken it. Didn't Eleanor believe Marcus could cure him? Then he would give her exactly what she wished for. ... On the third day, as dawn broke, Marcus handed Eleanor the key. The door opened onto silence. "Damon?" Eleanor leaned halfway in and called out, "Damon? I'm here to take you home." After a long while, Damon stepped out of the dim corner. His clothes were rumpled but intact. He smoothed his hair back with one hand and smiled. Eleanor was stunned for a moment. Then her eyes filled with tears. "Damon, are you really better?" Damon smiled and nodded. "Yeah." He walked up to Marcus and held out his hand. "Dr. Keane, thank you for curing me." The corner of Marcus's mouth twitched. His smile was stiff. Back home, Damon was the same as he had been before he got sick. Every morning, he made breakfast and waited for Eleanor to get up. After breakfast, he smiled and saw her off to work. In the evening, when Eleanor came home, he'd already have a table full of food waiting. Over dinner, Eleanor talked to him about the wedding. "I ordered blue roses for the venue—your favorite. "Did you try on the suit? I had it sent over this afternoon. "Oh, and pick an invitation design. They're going out tomorrow." Damon rested his chin in his hand and smiled at her. "Damon?" Eleanor set down her fork. "Don't you have anything to say to me?" Damon shook his head. Something felt off to Eleanor, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She reached out and took the hand he'd rested on the table. "Damon, let's leave the past in the past. I... Let's start over, okay?" Damon didn't know which part of the past she meant. That she had personally planned his kidnapping and imprisonment? Or her murky relationship with Marcus? But he didn't want to ask. "Okay." Eleanor let out a breath of relief. She was about to pull her hand back when she noticed his engagement ring was missing. "Where's your ring?" Damon looked at his bare finger. "I must have dropped it somewhere. I'll look for it later." Eleanor nodded. "If you can't find it, that's fine. I'll buy you a bigger, better one." The day Marcus's dissertation won its award, Damon saw Eleanor off as usual. She rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek. "I've been invited to the medical research awards ceremony tonight. "Everything's arranged for the wedding tomorrow. All you have to do is show up and be the groom." Damon nodded obediently and watched her drive away. The moment her taillights disappeared around the corner, the smile vanished from his face. He took out his phone and made a call. "Please get my grandmother to the marina first." "What about you?" Damon lowered his eyes. "I'll be there before the boat leaves." At nine that night, the main hall of the vast international convention center blazed with light. The audience was packed with medical experts and scholars, and camera lights swept back and forth across the rows of seats. The host read out the winners, and Marcus's name rang through the hall. The spotlight fell on Marcus in his sharp black suit. He rose with composure, soaking up the admiring looks from all around him, and walked unhurriedly up to the podium. In the guest section, Eleanor watched Marcus shining on stage, but her mind was nowhere near the ceremony. Damon's strange behavior over the past few days kept circling through her head. The microphone was placed in front of Marcus. A smug smile played on his lips. "For this honor, I owe credit not only to years of dedicated research. I'd especially like to thank Ms. Eleanor Carrington for all her support and help." Applause thundered through the hall. As planned, Eleanor, an invited guest, was to go up and say a few words as a representative. As she rose, that inexplicable unease surged up in her again. She stepped up to the podium and stood before the microphone, about to speak. The phone in her pocket suddenly began to vibrate. She frowned slightly and meant to ignore it, but it kept buzzing. The audience was waiting quietly for her speech, and she couldn't just walk off stage, so she pulled out her phone to decline the call. But as she lifted it, the phone's speaker came close to the microphone. A grave voice boomed through the sound system and filled the now-silent hall. "Hello, is this Eleanor Carrington? This is Harbor Patrol. "We received a report. Personal belongings of Mr. Damon Westbrook were found on the north span of West Channel Bridge. He's nowhere to be seen, and we believe he may have gone into the water. We need you to come right away." Every eye in the hall locked onto Eleanor, whose face had gone deathly pale. Her hand trembled, and the phone slipped from her palm. Marcus stood beside her, his smile frozen on his lips. At that moment, several uniformed officers walked into the hall. "Marcus Keane, you're a suspect in multiple kidnapping cases. You need to come with us."