Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 48

John took a deep breath and exhaled, his disappointment with Mark evident. Mark, on the other hand, stood by the office window, hands in his pockets, gazing outside, lost in thought.

"I warned you," John said, his voice firm. "I begged you to leave this woman alone, but you insisted. Why?!"

Mark remained motionless, his stance unchanged.

"You have everything—wealth, power, influence—everything. And yet, you couldn't let a woman go."

Mark pressed his lips together and nodded slightly, as if his mind were elsewhere.

"I tried to help you, Mr. Smith. I did everything I could, but you make all my efforts seem useless. Look at yourself! You've even gone back to using drugs. You swore you'd stopped, but now you're becoming a crackhead. And let's not forget—you're married! Your wife now has to deal with not just a drunk, but a crackhead!" John's voice rose, his frustration spilling over. The silence that followed his outburst reminded him of how harshly he had just spoken to one of his elite clients.

He sighed and softened his tone. "My apologies, Mr. Smith," he said, acknowledging his lapse in professionalism.

"I couldn't stop thinking about her," Mark said suddenly. His voice was calm, almost unnervingly so. "The thought of her being with another man haunted me. I wanted her for myself, but I'd already been forced to move on. And I'd already destroyed her reputation in front of so many people. What could I have done? I wanted her. I wanted my son. I wanted to be her first and her last. She belongs to me. No man born of a woman..." He stopped abruptly, realizing how far his words had taken him.

John studied Mark's back as he stood there, his expression unreadable.

"I want to see her body," Mark said finally, turning to face John. "If she's dead, I want to see her one last time."

"If I were her family, I'd never let you near her body," John replied without hesitation, drawing Mark's attention sharply.

Mark knew exactly what John meant.

"Can you talk to Donna for me?" he asked, brushing off the comment.

"Donna? I don't even know who that is."

"She's Emily's friend. The one who almost shot me," Mark explained, removing his hands from his pockets. "Tell Donna I'm ready to give her anything she asks for, along with a blank check. If it's money, I have it. If it's connections—political or otherwise—I have them. I can put her in places she never dreamed of. Anything she wants. All I ask is to see Emily's body."

John was silent for a moment before he suddenly began to laugh, leaving Mark confused.

"Did I say something funny?" Mark asked, waiting for John to stop laughing.

"Why don't you do it yourself?" John asked, a grin on his face. "Are you afraid she'll actually blow your brains out this time?"

"Naive, but I'll take it," Mark said, his gaze intense as he tried to remain composed. "I'm not scared of a woman. I'm scared of something worse. There's something... off. I'm just lying low for now." His expression mirrored the seriousness in his voice.

"So, what do I get in return for talking to Donna?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Money," Mark said bluntly.

"You know, I'm your therapist—not your errand boy," John replied, his tone pointed.

****

Donna sat silently, staring at the wall, her mind heavy with thoughts. Her right hand held onto Emily's, gently caressing it.