The Groom Who Ruined Me

Chapter 13

The rain transformed the old shipping district into a labyrinth of black oil and rusted iron. Inside the dark cabin of the SUV, the only sound was the rhythmic, aggressive slap of the windshield wipers cutting through the downpour.

Alec sat with his hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel, his knuckles white. The vehicle’s headlights were turned off, letting the shadows of the abandoned processing plants swallow them whole.

"Are you certain about this coordinate, Clara?" Alec asked, his deep voice slicing through the heavy quiet. His gray eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, checking the perimeter. "My tactical team has swept the main dockyards three times. If Julian is holding your mother here, he’s operating completely off the grid."

"My father bought this warehouse under a dead subsidiary name fifteen years ago," Clara whispered, her eyes fixed on the crumbling concrete structure looming through the fog ahead. "He called it the Black Bay terminal. He told me it was a storage vault for high-value art shipments, but when the company started failing, he locked the gates and removed it from the central system logs. If Julian knew my father’s patterns, he would use the one place the Sinclair legal team couldn't find in the public directories."

She adjusted the dark woolen jacket Alec had thrown over her shoulders back at the mansion. It smelled of woodsmoke and crisp rain—a strange comfort against the absolute terror gripping her chest.

Alec cut the engine. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the steady drum of rain on the roof. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at her, his expression a stark, unreadable mask in the dim light of the dashboard.

"We don't know how many men Julian has inside," Alec said, his voice dropping into a low, predatory register. He reached into his coat jacket, pulling out a small, sleek tracking device and pressing it into her palm. "If anything happens to me, you press this button. My extraction team will breach the walls in sixty seconds. You do not step out of this car unless I give the command, Clara. This isn't a corporate boardroom. Julian is desperate."

Clara gripped the cold plastic of the tracker, her hazel eyes locking onto his with fierce determination. "He has my mother, Alec. And he has the answers to what happened to me five years ago. I’m not sitting in the dark while you fight my ghosts alone."

A flicker of reluctant, intense admiration flashed through Alec’s gray eyes. His hand lingered over hers for a brief second, his warm fingers squeezing hers with a raw, unspoken possessiveness that made her breath catch. "You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met, Clara Sinclair."

"I learned from the best, Mr. Sinclair," she countered, a small, brave smile touching her lips despite the danger.

They slipped out of the vehicle, moving like shadows through the driving rain. The side service entrance to the Black Bay warehouse had been forced open, the heavy steel padlock cleanly sheared off by a industrial bolt cutter. Fresh mud tracks led straight inside the cavernous, unlit facility.

Alec led the way, his weapon drawn, his tall frame naturally shifting to keep his body between Clara and the dark corridors. The air inside smelled of stagnant sea water and old engine oil.

From the center of the warehouse floor, a low, flickering yellow light illuminated the towering rows of wooden shipping crates.

Alec gestured for Clara to stay behind a massive steel forklift as he crept closer to the edge of the light. Clara peered around the metal frame, her heart leaping into her throat.

Evelyn Hastings was tied to a heavy iron chair in the middle of the open floor, her pristine chignon completely ruined, her silk blouse stained with mud and rain. Standing directly in front of her, turning a heavy silver pocket watch over and over in his palm, was Julian Vance.

"I’m running out of patience, Evelyn," Julian’s lazy, mocking voice echoed off the high corrugated iron rafters. He stopped pacing, leaning down until his face was inches from her mother’s pale, trembling features. "Your husband’s asset codes are locked down, but the physical ledger isn't at the docks. Where did Richard hide the master encryption key? Is it with Clara?"

Evelyn spat on the concrete floor, her voice raspy but defiantly aristocratic. "You're a child playing a man's game, Julian. My husband gave Arthur Sinclair everything he needed to bury you five years ago. If you think my daughter will give you anything, you underestimate her."

"I don't underestimate her," Julian sneered, a dangerous, obsessive gleam entering his amber eyes. "I know exactly what Clara is capable of when she remembers who she is. That's why your husband paid fifty million dollars to have her mind wiped at that Swiss clinic, isn't it? Because if Alec ever found out that Clara was the one driving the car the night Arthur died—"

Clara’s foot slipped against a rusted metal bolt on the floor.