Chapter 24

TWENTY-FOUR

Angelo

Like the first time I landed in Cape Town with my father, I stop at a lookout point on the cliffside road to stare at the sun rising over the ocean. Thick bands of orange and red overlay the deep purple on the horizon. A few stars still twinkle in the dawn. The crash of the waves on the rocks is deafening. The treacherous sea is always restless. Angry. Unpredictable. No wonder they call it the Cape of Storms. The beauty is devastating. It's both hypnotizing and destructive. Much like the journey I embarked on since my path crossed Sabella's.

What would've happened if my father hadn't insisted that I meet her when she turned sixteen? Would things have been different if I knocked on her door when she was already eighteen? I often wonder.

Our history is as violent as the nature of this country in which she has her roots. Our fate is just as destructive, but it's also a certainty. It's always been. I knew she'd be my wife from the day she turned ten.

I was only fourteen, yet I'll never forget the peace that knowledge brought me. My future was paved, my partner for life decided. It seemed so effortless and graceful at the time. Such a noble notion.

The promise I made my father on that first visit to this country rings in my head. I assured him I'd see this deal through.

My gut clenches when I inhale the salty air. I swear I smell a whiff of cigarillo smoke on the breeze. Just like on that day when my father stood here beside me on this very spot. We visited the vineyards to buy wine. He was drinking in the view, soaking up the hours he had left. He wanted to settle me in my future. He didn't want to die before his job here was done. That's why we came.

The memories are almost too much to bear. It's difficult to believe that was already three years ago. Sometimes, it feels as if my whole life is condensed into these past three years, as if nothing before that mattered.

It took a lot to get here, not in distance, time, or cost but in sacrifice. It feels as if I've waited a lifetime for this day, and now, it's finally arrived.

Our wedding day.

I stay until I can't stand the haunting emptiness beside me any longer, and then I drive back to my hotel. My rooms at the five-star hotel in Cape Town are as luxurious as the villa in Camps Bay, but the honeymoon suite isn't where I'm planning on bedding my wife for the first time. When Sabella becomes Mrs. Edwards-Russo, I'll consummate our marriage in the house where she'll bear our children. In our home.

The arrangements are in place. I booked a private jet to fly us to Marseille in France. Private jets aren't good for the environment, but I don't want to share our first moments as husband and wife with four hundred strangers in a commercial plane. Those hours are sacred. I'm selfish like that.

From Marseille, we'll take the yacht. The skipper will pilot it. I'll have seven hours to ravish her body, but I will only come inside her when my seed can spill on the sheets of my bed. That doesn't mean I can't enjoy her until then. There are many ways to please her without using my cock.

At the hotel, I have breakfast in the courtyard before taking a shower. I check my phone as I dry myself off. Sabella hasn't seen the gown I left in the villa yet. She didn't have a chance. Instead, she went home to Great Brak River, no doubt to confront Ryan about the truth. The men I hired to keep her safe informed me she's on her way back to Cape Town. She should arrive any minute.

I dress in the bespoke suit I had tailored for the occasion and round the outfit off with a black silk tie. I'm not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony. My mother will turn in her grave. But I can't trust Sabella to make it to the Home Affairs office on her own. She won't get into a car with a chauffeur unless she's being held at gunpoint. Between driving her myself and having her dragged in front of an official with a gun pushed against her head, the first option is my choice.

I cast a critical glance in the mirror, taming my hair by combing it through with my fingers. Then I grab my overnight bag and check out. The security guards I hired wait in the street. Ryan and I have an agreement, but I trust an Edwards just as far as I can throw him.

Four men with firearms concealed under their jackets get into a bullet-proof Mercedes. Two more wait for me at my rental. One takes my bag and loads it in the trunk when I unlock the doors. The other shifts behind the wheel. I make myself at home on the backseat and fire off a quick text message to the pilot. He replies immediately, assuring me that everything is ready. I'm about to put the phone away when it rings.

It's the man I hired to keep an eye on Sabella.

My gut tightens as I take the call.

"Mr. Russo." He sounds out of breath. "We have a problem. Ms. Edwards hasn't arrived home yet."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I grip the phone hard, adding with menace, "Tell me you have a visual on her."

"That's the thing. She was on her way back from her mother's house, but I lost her in the city. She went to great lengths to shake me off."

"Where in the city?" I bite out.

"Near Greenmarket Square."

I gnash my teeth. "Has she been home at all?"

"No, sir. Her sister-in-law went into the villa an hour ago. My colleague said she exited with a suitcase."

"Why the fuck wasn't I informed?"

"We didn't think it strange. We assumed her sister-in-law helped her pack for her trip."

"Where did the sister-in-law go?"

He hesitates before continuing. "We lost her too."

I'm bristling with anger. "You what?"

"She entered the underground parking lot of a shopping mall. The lot has five levels. By the time we located her car, she was nowhere to be found. We're looking for her on the security cameras of the mall as we speak."

I pull up the app that tracks Sabella's location via her phone. The signal is dead. She must've destroyed the phone. The localization tracker is useless.

Fuck.

"Go faster," I tell the driver. "Don't worry about the speed limit."

He puts his foot down on the accelerator. The driver behind us follows his example.

"Put out an alert with your contacts and give them Miss Edwards's number plate," I instruct the man on the other end of the line. "Involve the traffic department if you must. Pay anyone who can be bought. Money isn't an issue."

"Yes, sir."

"Do a fucking better job this time," I say before ending the call and dialing the head of the security company.

When he picks up, I say, "I need the street video surveillance for the last hour in a ten-kilometer radius of Greenmarket Square."

"My men just brought me up to speed." His tone is apologetic. "Don't worry, we'll find her."

"You better hope so." He won't like the consequences if they don't.

When I hang up, I check Margaret Edwards's and Ryan's phones. They're both dead. So are Matilde's and her husband's. The whole family is in on this. Even the housekeeper's phone is off the grid.

If they think they can disappear with my bride, they better think again.

I call the guy watching Celeste Edwards' parents' house. He says the parents are still living like shipwrecked victims on a deserted West Coast beach. They haven't been at their house in months.

The man keeping watch at the Edwards's residence in Great Brak River says there's no one home. The housekeeper, Ryan, Celeste, Margaret, and the kid are gone. So is the neighbor, Colin Taylor. His parents and sister are on holiday in the Maldives.

Sabella doesn't have any other friends. Not real friends.

She's not hiding out somewhere. If she left with everyone she cares about, it can only mean one thing.

She's on the run.

When I catch her, she's going to regret her little stunt.

The driver pulls up at the villa. The man riding shotgun jumps out and follows me to the door where the guard on duty stands at attention.

"Anything new?" I ask.

He shifts his weight. "No, sir."

Cursing, I go around him, deactivate the alarm, and unlock the security gate and door to let myself in.

"Stay here," I instruct the two guards.

The house feels empty when I enter. It's not the way in which my shoes echo in the acoustic space of the kitchen. I sense her absence as if she's always been a part of me.

The kitchen is tidy. I open the dishwasher. A few dirty dishes are stacked inside. I go to the fridge and almost yank the door off its hinges in my haste. It's stocked with perishable foods. She left in a hurry.

The dread bleeding from my gut only increases as I rush downstairs and go through her dressing room. Most of her clothes are there, but the empty spots on the shelves indicate that a few outfits were taken. Her toiletries are gone too.

Taking the stairs two by two, I go back to the lounge and take out my phone. After pulling up an app, I access the videos that the hidden cameras in the house recorded and rewind to the point where I left the house. The cameras are motion sensitive. Movement triggers the recording.

Nothing happens until an hour ago when the video shows Celeste Edwards entering the house. She hurries to the kitchen and hovers for a second by the table. Then she runs down the stairs, takes a suitcase from the closet, and hastily packs some clothes and toiletries. On her way out, she stops in front of the wedding dress in the transparent plastic cover that hangs behind the door and stares at it for a couple of beats before grabbing the dress as well as the Cinderella slippers and leaving with the wedding attire and the suitcase.

What the fuck?

Is she going to give the gown to Sabella to burn so that she can send me the ashes? It won't surprise me.

I clench the phone so hard it's a wonder the screen doesn't crack. I'll turn this country upside down, but I will find Sabella. She won't get away.

Something on the table catches my eye.

The ring.

I pick it up.

It screams rejection.

Sabella couldn't make herself clearer if she'd told me to my face she wouldn't marry me.

Pocketing the ring, I walk from the house with long strides. Brutal anger replaces the dread. I have to give it to her, she's fucking brave. I never thought she'd make such a blatant run for it.

She's going to pay for this. When I find her, I'll punish her so hard she'll never try anything as foolish again.

My phone rings as I lock up. It's the security company chief.

"We found them," he says. "A street camera recorded her driving toward Constantia. The car is parked on a lot behind a church. We picked up the sister-in-law on the shopping mall security cameras. She exited her vehicle with the luggage, went up to the ground level, and got into a car waiting in the street. The car belongs to the brother, Ryan Edwards. Guess where they went? To the same church. The rest of the family's cars are there too."

"Send me the address," I order as fury like I've never felt boils up inside me.