Chapter 420

Bella turned slowly. Her makeup ran in black streaks down her face. “Vance,” she chattered. “Please. Just tell me. Is he alive?”

“Do you really want to know?” Vance asked.

There was something in his tone that made the hair on Eliza’s arms stand up — not the detached calm of a professional, but something laced with a strange, almost weary condescension.

“Yes,” Bella sobbed. “I need to know.”

“Get in,” Vance said, opening the door.

Bella hesitated. She looked back at the hospital one last time. Then, defeated, she climbed into the back of his car.

The sedan pulled away and disappeared into the rainy night.

Eliza watched them go, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach. Vance had been Dallas’s friend. His doctor. But the way he had spoken to Bella — the subtle shift in his demeanor — felt less like professional concern and more like a man asserting control over a situation he found deeply irritating.

She shook her head. She couldn’t worry about Bella Rose. She had her own husband to find.

She hailed a taxi.

“Where to, lady?” the driver asked.

“The Aurelia,” Eliza said. “And hurry.”

Thirty minutes later, Vance’s sedan pulled into the driveway of a secluded villa in Westchester. The rain was coming down harder now, drumming on the roof like bullets.

Vance got out and opened the door for Bella. He held a large black umbrella over her, but he didn’t offer his coat. They walked into the house — modern, cold, filled with sharp angles and glass.

“Here,” Vance said, tossing her a towel. “Dry off.”

Bella clutched the towel, shivering. “You said you’d tell me.”

Vance walked to the bar and poured two fingers of scotch. He didn’t offer her any. He took a sip, watching her over the rim of the glass.

“Go take a shower, Bella. You’re dripping on my floor.”

“Vance!” Bella screamed, her patience snapping. “Tell me!”

Vance set the glass down. The sound was loud in the quiet room.

“Dallas is finished,” he said.

Bella stopped breathing. “Dead?”

“No.” Vance smiled — a cruel twist of his lips. “Worse. For a man like him, anyway.”

He walked toward her, stepping into her personal space. Bella backed up until she hit the wall.

“He’s sterile, Bella. Irreparably so. His body can’t produce sperm. His nerves are dead. He can’t get it up. He can’t have children. He is a biological dead end.”

Bella stared at him, her mouth open. “No — that’s not possible. He’s so strong.”

“Strength has nothing to do with nerve damage,” Vance sneered. “He’s a husk. A Ken doll. Smooth and useless.”

“Oh god,” Bella whispered. Fresh tears welled in her eyes. “Poor Dallas.”

Vance’s face darkened.

“Poor Dallas?” he mocked. “You’re still pitying him? After I told you he’s less than a man?”

“He must be in so much pain,” Bella sobbed.

Vance’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his temple. He slammed his fist onto the marble countertop beside her — the sharp crack echoing through the silent house. Bella flinched, her shoulders hunching.

.

.

.