Chapter 1

Sadie

Burbank, California, October 10, 2023

“ M iss Ryan, please tell the jury if you witnessed Keelan Blake kill Richard Wertz in the warehouse on the evening of April fourth?” the prosecutor, Melissa Madison, asked.

She drawled out that last question, clearly aware of how visibly uncomfortable I was up there. It was the fifth day of the murder trial, and it seemed as if tension was now seeping into the room—all eyes on me—leaning forward, eager for my response. If fear didn’t have its icy grip on me, anger would have me instead. They weren’t the ones horrified by what I had seen. They weren’t the ones struggling to sleep at night while the image of blood and death haunted my thoughts. The case had now fallen upon me to recount what I had seen so the prosecution could seal Keelan’s fate.

This can all be over soon. Just tell the jury what happened .

A bead of sweat dripped down my spine as I sat on the witness stand. It had only been twenty minutes since my testimony began, but it felt like hours. I was the star witness in the murder trial of my now ex-fiancé, Keelan Blake. Melissa was the prosecutor I had worked with alongside my family attorney, Hamilton Jones, for the last five months. Hamilton’s presence was to advocate on my behalf as a “victim” and supply the prosecution with information for the case.

I thought I could hold it together during the trial, but I was starting to lose control. Keelan’s haunting, deep-blue eyes had been staring at me the entire time, making it difficult for me to speak.

I just need this over with so I can go back into hiding.

My eyes drifted back to Keelan, and my heart flooded with acid. His black hair was unkempt and longer than when I last saw him. It now brushed the bottom of his ears, and the shorn part of the right side had grown out. He wore a dark blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off the intricate tattoos that covered his tanned skin.

Before his arrest, Keelan Blake was the most sought-after tattoo artist in Los Angeles. Clients heralded his work as the “modern-day Rembrandt with a tattoo gun.” Even before he reached the legal age to work in the shop, he was already tattooing his friends from the comfort of his kitchen.

However, his father, Arthur, had other plans for him. When he turned eighteen, Keelan was immediately recruited into the criminal underworld by joining the family business as a tattoo artist. His father and mine teamed up years ago to create a network of secret-keeping for corrupt politicians, law enforcement, and anyone who had the money to bury their sins. My father, Finnegan Ryan, was a well-known software engineer and graphic designer. He specialized in converting documents and images into lines of code, which were then imprinted into whatever digital art piece the client requested.

The program my father had created was one of a kind; no other technology company held a candle to his data conversion software, making him highly valuable to anyone who needed to hide their secrets. Arthur Blake was a renowned painter who took the newly converted art and created beautiful canvases for his clientele. Both men thrived in the dark realm of blackmail, extortion, and concealment, carving out empires that made them two of the wealthiest men on the West Coast.

Arthur was a monster, and his sons were no different. Especially the man I was trying to put behind bars. The one whose eyes hadn’t left mine since I entered the courtroom.

“Miss Ryan,” Melissa spoke again, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Yes,” I said, redirecting to her. “I had just walked into the warehouse’s front door when I heard two men arguing. As I approached, I watched Keelan grab Richard by the hair and swipe a large knife from left to right across his throat.” I used my thumb to demonstrate the method of how he killed the man.

My stomach clenched at the memory, but my eyes returned to Keelan as if on impulse. He didn’t look upset by what I was saying. His face was blank, cold even, like a psychotic devil.

A beautiful devil disguised as an angel.

“And then what happened?” Melissa asked. I felt every pair of eyes in that courtroom on me, burning into my skin. My head turned toward the jury box on the left side of the room. There were seven women and five men. Some looked bored, others leaned forward with elbows resting on their knees, and a couple looked concerned for my well-being rather than the murder victim. I wondered if they believed me at all.

They have to believe me. If Keelan goes free, I’m dead.

“Tell the court what happened next,” Melissa urged. “Please, Miss Ryan.”

Nodding, I took a small breath and straightened my spine, letting the last bit of self-confidence I had left rise to the surface. This time, I kept my eyes on the jury, not Keelan.

“I let out a startled, horrified gasp and dropped the magazine I had been holding into a puddle of water. It had been raining that day, and there was a small leak in the ceiling,” I recounted. “Keelan heard me and turned to look. He was smiling and still holding that knife with blood dripping from it. The man he killed collapsed at his feet, and his life pooled onto the floor.” Courage took root in me, making my voice strong and clear. The images were vivid in my mind, each detail as stark as they were when it happened six months ago. “Keelan stepped toward me, and I bolted out of the building. I didn’t hear him coming after me when I reached my car. I got in and sped off.”

Melissa nodded. “That must have been difficult for you to see.”

No shit.

“What happened next?”

“Honestly, I was in such a panic that I didn’t know what to do. Our families are close, and I wasn’t sure anyone would believe me. All I knew was that I witnessed something I shouldn’t have. After three days of hiding in a hotel near Sherman Oaks, I drove to the Burbank police station and told the officers what happened.”

After the prosecutor gave me a small smile, she said, “Thank you, Miss Ryan. No further questions, Your Honor.”

The tension in my body eased, and I sighed, starting to stand. The judge, Benjamin Russell, leaned toward me and tapped his hand lightly on his desk. “Miss Ryan, I haven’t excused you yet,” he said. “There’s still cross-examination by the defense.”

“Please,” I said. “I need a break.”

“Your Honor,” Melissa called out. “Motion for a quick recess so my witness can regain her composure?”

“Objection!” Keelan’s lawyer, David Swanson, shouted. “It’s crucial for this case to cross-examine the witness while her testimony is fresh in her mind.”

“Counselors, approach the bench,” Judge Russell replied.

Melissa, Hamilton, and David walked up to the bench and spoke quietly with the judge while I waited. After a minute, Judge Russell nodded his head and addressed the courtroom.

“We will adjourn for a ten-minute recess. Miss Ryan, you may step down.”

I released all the air I had been holding. Thank God.

Hamilton helped me down from the stand, leading me back to our side of the courtroom. I kept my head down, avoiding the eyes of Keelan’s family and mine.

“The court is now adjourned for ten minutes. Please return here no later than eleven o’clock,” the judge ordered, banging the gavel once.

The jury rose and headed to the back room while a collective murmur rose in the crowd .

“Melissa, I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, my voice trembling as I spoke. My whole body felt shaky, and my skin was hot.

Melissa touched my back, her perfume filling my nose, and leaned close to my ear. “Take a breather. Don’t speak to reporters or the Blake family members if they try to talk to you. Come right back in ten. Okay?”

I nodded and hurried down the aisle toward the door, avoiding Keelan’s gaze. I couldn’t bear to look at him then. Exiting the courtroom, I rushed down the hallway toward the bathrooms, dodging a few reporters who shouted at me. Luckily, no one was inside when I entered. I went to the sink and turned on the cold water, splashing some over my face and neck.

After drying my face with a paper towel, I examined my appearance in the mirror. My light-blonde hair was a mess of curls and frizz. I had styled it this morning, but the heat of the courtroom and my sweating from nerves had made it into a rat’s nest. The time on the stand had left my dark-pink blouse creased, with noticeable armpit stains, and my black skirt felt damp and uncomfortable against my legs. I looked so tired. My green eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying the night before.

As I tried to smooth out my hair by pulling and brushing it with my fingers, I heard the door open behind me. I looked at the reflection of my father, glaring at me with hatred and fury, and a cold tremor ran through my body. When he raised his hand, I instinctively tried to move away, but his fingers found the back of my head, yanking the strands at the scalp. I bit my lip to keep from shrieking.

“You’re treading on thin ice, Sadie. Be very careful about what you say on the stand when Swanson asks you questions. ”

The warning was clear. My asshole father had already threatened me a thousand times before the trial. But I wasn’t going to take it anymore.

It ends now.

The door opened again, and my mother, Aisling, sauntered in. Her Louboutin shoes clicked against the linoleum floor as she came to my dad’s side. “Finn, let her go,” she whispered. “Not here, for God’s sake.”

After today, not anywhere ever again, you coward. There was no chance that my mother would ever protect me here . She knew what that punishment would entail.

“Finn,” she started again, swaying a little as she held Father’s arm. God, she was day drinking again. It had gotten so much worse since my older brother Patrick died of an apparent suicide earlier this year.

“What?” he said sharply, but his eyes never left mine.

“Alex Thatcher just arrived. He’ll join us in the seats once they start again.”

My head snapped over to look at my father, and my eyes widened.

Hold your tongue.

Alex made my skin crawl, like cold steel pressed against my neck. Following the families’ merger, he gained the trust of both the Blakes and Ryans, becoming heavily involved in their financial dealings. Six years ago, when I was fifteen, my father introduced him to my brother and me. Despite being half his age and a minor back then, he would stare at me in the foyer of our mansion as if he wanted to devour me for lunch.

Fucking pedo creep .

My parents didn’t give a shit when I told them how uncomfortable Alex made me. Being here today, what business did he have with this trial? However, arguing with him about it now wouldn’t do me any good.

“Look, I need to get back,” I said, my scalp burning. “The ten minutes is almost up.”

“We’re not done,” he seethed, releasing my hair.

Oh, we are so fucking done.

I turned to face him and said, “I already told you. I won’t say anything about the family business or elaborate on our relationship with the Blakes outside of that engagement. But I can’t allow that man anywhere near me again. Keelan is a murderer. Fuck that deal you made with Arthur. I’m out.”

Pushing past him, I tried to exit the restroom, but he reached out and grabbed my wrist, squeezing hard. I winced at his nails cutting into my skin through the fabric. This abuse was tame compared to all the other times he’d put his hands on me, starting at the age of four. But it didn’t lessen the pain or my anger.

My father’s dark brown eyes blazed as he leaned toward me. “You know I don’t give a fuck if that boy goes to prison. If anything, he was the perfect one to take the fall. You had to open your stupid mouth and get the attention of the police on us, on my business. So, we’re now forced to deal with this shit. But let me assure you, little girl, the deal I made with his family to unite our businesses still stands. If Keelan gets locked up for life, then one of his two brothers will gladly take you to their bed.”

I raised my gaze to meet him, staring defiantly into the bastard’s cold eyes. For once in my life, I felt brave. “After this trial is over and they put that monster away for life, I swear to you, Finn , you will never see me again.”

I marched out of the bathroom and into the courtroom, my right hand still trying to smooth out the gnarled mess that my father’s grip left behind. My gaze involuntarily drew to Keelan, who was observing me closely again. His brows furrowed as I walked up the aisle toward my lawyer’s desk, a strange look flickering in Keelan’s eyes.

He’s probably enjoying the fact that he got me rattled and looking like a mess.

After the judge returned and resumed the trial, they directed me back to the witness stand. It was time for David Swanson to cross-examine my testimony. Despite my act of bravery against my father, I felt anxious about what questions he would ask me.

David was a shrewd man who liked to nitpick every statement made during the trial. When the police officer who interviewed me was on the stand, he tried to find holes in the statement by painting me as a hysterical woman who imagined the murder. Melissa objected so often that Judge Russell had to reprimand David for speculation.

My hands twisted in my lap as David approached the stand in his sleek gray suit and yellow tie. Once he stood directly in front of me, he began his line of questions. “Miss Ryan. Is it true that you were engaged to Keelan Blake?” he began, likely establishing a timeline for the jury.

“Yes, we were engaged for over a year.”

“And you remained engaged until the alleged incident on April fourth? Is that correct? ”

I nodded grimly. “Yes. After Keelan murdered Richard Wertz, I thought it would be wise not to marry a killer and ended our engagement instead.”

“Allegedly, Miss Ryan.” David smiled. “But let me ask you this…. Your father, Finnegan Ryan, is in business with Keelan’s father, Arthur Blake, correct?”

My stomach twisted, and I swallowed. Before coming to court, Hamilton had thoroughly coached me through what to do when this line of questioning came up. He ordered me to deny and divert everything if they went there. It would paint a massive target on my family. I wouldn’t just face the wrath of Arthur and my father but everyone employed by our families. That included the dirty cops in Los Angeles County and even the goddamn mayor that my father was running against. The election was five months away, and the news coverage focused a lot on my family. My father had been a city council member for years and was now vying for the mayor’s office. He aimed to gain significantly more political power and get his claws into new clients and resources.

If he had more power, no one could touch him.

If I fucked this up and revealed anything, he would make me disappear for good.

“Yes, they are,” I answered truthfully, but I knew how to deflect from there.

“Please elaborate on the business relationship,” he asked, but I found that question odd. Why would Keelan allow his lawyer to ask about that? Clearly, Arthur would have warned his son, as my father warned me.

‘Keep your fucking mouth shut, or you’ll be at the bottom of the ocean by dawn, ’ he had said.

“I don’t really pay attention to that stuff,” I said. “I prefer to get my nails done and read a book by the pool. As far as I know, my dad orders pretty paintings from Mr. Blake’s galleries and refers his clients for their custom pieces. He’s also done a few jobs for their galleries’ websites, but that’s it.”

He smirked again. “Your parents forced you into an engagement with my client, didn’t they?”

“Unfortunately,” I replied coolly. “What’s your point?”

“Were you upset about it?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Melissa called from the desk. “Relevance. How does her engagement with the defendant pertain to the murder?”

David threw up his hands. “Understandably, an arrangement like that would upset Miss Ryan. Her father forced her to marry a man she didn’t choose, so she came up with a lie to have him sent to prison. The marriage can’t happen if he’s locked up.”

“Bullshit!” I yelled.

Fuck! Calm down, Sadie. You know what he’s doing.

“Miss Ryan, mind your language,” the judge scolded. “Overruled, Ms. Madison. Please answer the question.”

“Yes, I was upset about the arrangement. Keelan and I never got along growing up, so it didn’t make sense for us to get married. But I know what I saw in the warehouse. I saw Keelan brutally kill a man. The evidence shows that as well.”

Swanson stepped closer to me. “Your family owns the warehouse that the alleged murder took place in. Is that correct?”

My stomach twisted into another knot. I knew what was going to be asked next. I rehearsed my reply in my head before speaking. “Yes,” I said, but my voice trembled. Shit .

“And is it true that you were heading to the warehouse to grab paperwork from the office for your father?”

Everyone knew I was my father’s little errand girl. He often sent me to that warehouse’s office to pick up sales forms, order receipts, or correspondence with his overseas partners. But not that day. Keelan was supposedly at the warehouse picking up new tattoo machine parts that had arrived earlier in the week. That day, I went there to show him the magazine I had posed for as an engagement gift. I wanted to build a more stable relationship with my new fiancé that didn’t involve fucking late at night and slipping out the front door the next day. He had tattooed my body three months before, and what better gift than modeling the art for him, showing that I appreciated what he had done? Maybe it would bring him more business, not that he needed the help. Ultimately, I didn’t want to be as miserable as my mother was. I wanted whatever our relationship was to work.

After calling Keelan’s older brother, Aiden, he mentioned that Keelan had been on his way to the warehouse. When investigators asked if he had told me where Keelan was to corroborate my story, he denied everything.

“No, not that day,” I answered. “I went to see Keelan since he was there picking up some parts for his shop.”

“Did you know Richard Wertz?”

“No, I didn’t know him.” I started sweating again, my nerves fraying under the implied accusation.

The attorney smiled so widely this time that it touched his eyes.

Again, with the creepy smile. Jesus.

“Richard Wertz worked for your father’s IT company. You’ve seen him before and—”

“I didn’t!” I raised my voice that time. All that preparation was going out the window. I could feel beads of sweat rolling down my forehead, and my hands were shaking uncontrollably—more from anger than anything. My grip on the situation was slipping, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest as my composure began to crack.

“Objection!” Melissa called. “Badgering the witness.”

“Sustained. Mr. Swanson, that’s enough.”

“Permission to rephrase the question?” David asked.

“Granted,” Judge Russell said with a nod.

“Let’s say you didn’t know Mr. Wertz. The accusation that you’re making is that my client, your fiancé, killed Wertz in cold blood. However, his prints were nowhere near where you said he killed the victim. There was no supposed magazine, no blood, and no murder weapon. Your story would imply speculation and fantasy, to be perfectly honest.”

That’s because Arthur hired a cleaning crew to scrub the place and destroy the evidence. At the time, even my father wanted to protect his reputation for being tied to a murder inside a building that our family owned, but later backed off as evidence piled up. Unfortunately for them, Richard’s body ended up washing ashore in the Hollywood Reservoir. Whatever ropes they tethered to his ankle had loosened, and his corpse floated to the surface.

“I believe what happened was you were angry with your family for arranging this marriage. You and Keelan were physically involved, but you were tired of him treating you like a sexual object. The only thing you could think of was framing the man for murder so you could rid yourself of him. You killed Richard yourself, didn’t you?”

My jaw dropped, and my hands clenched into fists.

This motherfucker!

I looked up and stared at Keelan again. His sapphire blue eyes were as arrogant as they always had been, but there was something else. He almost seemed angry with his attorney for talking to me like that. Keelan’s nostrils flared, and he gripped the arms of his chair. He broke his gaze with me and bore it into David’s back instead.

“Objection!” Melissa shouted, her cheeks flushed deep red with anger. “The defense is speculating and accusing the witness of murder with no basis in reality.”

“Sustained.”

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Hamilton said smugly, walking back to the desk and sitting next to Keelan, who wouldn’t even look at him.

The judge finally excused me from the stand, and I went to sit beside my mother. My father was nowhere to be found, which was fine with me. The defense just tried to suggest that I killed a man just to break my engagement with Keelan. I did everything I could to control my breathing, but I was pissed.

The prosecution and defense presented their closing statements over the next few hours. The defense reiterated that all the evidence was circumstantial at best. It was a coincidence that Keelan’s prints were inside Richard’s home and that the neck wound was consistent with the Buckhorn knife Keelan kept inside his car. They attacked my character as the ‘crazy, desperate woman who wanted out of her engagement’ and questioned my motives for being at the warehouse that day .

However, the prosecution did their research and offered a strong rebuttal with other pieces of evidence that were damning to Keelan’s case. After their presentation, it was obvious that the defense had no grounds for blaming me for the murder.

My father had already paid off one juror, so if something didn’t go as planned, it meant there was a mole in the jury, and someone would take care of them later. At four-thirty, the judge sent the jurors to deliberate, and within an hour, they had reached their verdict.

“We, the members of the jury, find Keelan Blake guilty on all three counts. First-degree murder, improper disposal of a corpse, and tampering with evidence.”

A gasp went through the crowd, and my heart pounded despite my relief. The conviction meant a sentence of twenty-five years to life in prison. Keelan was going to rot away for a very long time.

Keelan rose from his chair so the bailiff could handcuff his wrists behind his back. Before they led him away, he turned and looked in my direction.

The world seemed to slow to a deadly crawl as he mouthed five words to me— I am coming for you.