11 Chapter 11
“Leave now!” Killian bellowed, his fury erupting as he flung the car door wide. He clutched Anastacia’s arm, forcefully pulling her from the vehicle and hurling her onto the ground.
Anastacia yelped as her body slammed against the hard surface. Killian loomed over her, his finger quivering with rage as he aimed it at her. “Who do you think you are? How dare you
my speak to my Penelope that way?! You’re nothing but a diversion, a plaything for idle moments! Did you truly believe you meant anything more?!” His voice escalated with each word. “If I can’t locate my wife, you’ll suffer the consequences!”
With that, he whirled around and marched back to the car, determined to find Penelope at any
cost.
Anastacia, struggling to her feet, desperately clung to the car window. “Killian, you can’t treat me like this… I’m expecting your baby… Our baby…”
Killian hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. “Baby… Yes, baby,” he murmured,
his voice distant.
A faint, hopeful smile played on Anastacia’s ashen lips. She had always known she was different from Penelope. She had leverage. She had an ace up her sleeve.
But just as she thought he might come to her aid, Killian exited the car. In her dazed state, she believed he might help her, but instead, he retrieved a golf club from the back seat.
Her eyes widened, instinctively sensing impending danger.
Killian’s expression contorted with revulsion. “Penelope’s child hasn’t even been born yet, you worthless woman. Why are you carrying my child?”
Anastacia’s heart pounded. She attempted to retreat, but before she could react, Killian swung the club, striking her violently in the abdomen.
A cry of anguish erupted from her throat, and tears streamed down her face. “Mr. Barnes, please! I was wrong… I shouldn’t have spoken to your wife that way… I admit my mistake! Please, spare me and the baby!”
But Killian seemed beyond reason, consumed by blind rage. He swung the club again, this time striking her lower abdomen with brutal force.
“Be quiet, you wretch! Be quiet!” he yelled, his voice unhinged.
Killian couldn’t discern how long the assault lasted. It felt interminable. When he finally
stopped, he stood over her, panting heavily. Anastacia lay motionless, blood pooling beneath her.
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He released the golf club, letting it clatter to the ground, the sound echoing in the silence. It was then that the gravity of his actions sank in–he had crossed a line.
A decade later…
I had spent ten years in Canada, forging a new life. I had become an artist. While I wouldn’t describe myself as wealthy, I had gained some recognition in the art world.
I was casually browsing news on my phone when something caught my attention–Barnes Group of Companies had appointed a new president. My heart raced. It had been a decade since I’d left California, cutting all ties with my past. I hadn’t kept up with anything from my former home. But now, ten years on, I felt an inexplicable urge to seek information about Killian.
The current president of Barnes Group of Companies was none other than Killian’s cousin. From what I could gather, he wasn’t particularly skilled, yet he had secured the position. Something felt amiss. My instincts suggested that something had befallen Killian.
I swiftly searched his name, and my breath hitched when I saw an article from ten years prior. The headline made my pulse quicken: Killian, president of Barnes Group of Companies, fatally beats his assistant Anastacia in the garage and receives a life sentence in the second trial!
I was stunned, unable to comprehend the words.
Clicking on the article, I saw a photograph of Killian. He was clad in prison attire, his head shaved, his eyes empty and lifeless. A dullness that was so unlike the man I once knew. And the assistant, Anastacia… It was her.
I glanced back at the date–It coincided exactly with the day I had left.
My breath caught in my throat. I had been oblivious. I had no idea that such a horrific event had transpired as I was leaving everything behind.
Before I could fully process what I was seeing, I heard my boyfriend call my name, snapping me
out of my trance.
“Penelope, it’s time to go collect folk songs.”
His voice broke through my stupor, and when I looked up, I saw him smiling at me. “What did you see that shocked you so much?”
I inhaled deeply, centering myself as I pushed away the whirlwind of emotions that had threatened to surface. I knew better than to dwell on the past. Killian and I had parted ways a decade ago; his story no longer held relevance in my life.
With a steady exhalation, I met his gaze, focusing on the present. I picked up my paintbrush, gathered my canvas, and followed my boyfriend’s lead, heading towards the picturesque scenery
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outside. The burden of the past lifted as the beauty surrounding us filled me with a sense of
tranquility and purpose.
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