Too Late For Regret, Mr. Billionaire

The smell hit her first. It was a thick, metallic stench of old blood and dog urine that coated the back of her throat.

Carmen Campos gagged. A rough hand shoved her hard between the shoulder blades. Her knees hit the concrete floor, tearing the expensive silk of her designer dress.

In front of her was a rusted iron cage. Inside, two massive Cane Corsos paced. Their muscles bunched under dark coats. Saliva dripped from their heavy jowls. Their red-rimmed eyes locked onto her. A low, vibrating growl rattled the iron bars.

"Look at them," a man's voice sneered from the shadows behind her.

A heavy smartphone hit the concrete by Carmen's bleeding knees. The screen was cracked, but the audio playing from it was crystal clear. It was Evelin Mcgowan's voice, high-pitched and hysterical.

"Carmen, please! I'm sorry! Just let me go! Don't kill me!"

Carmen stared at the phone. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air. Evelin wasn't kidnapped. Evelin was safe. Evelin had recorded this to frame her.

"Pick it up," the kidnapper ordered. "Look into the camera. Say you kidnapped Evelin Mcgowan because you were jealous. Say you're sorry. Do it, and I'll let you walk out of here."

Carmen looked at the two starving beasts in the cage. Her whole body shook. Her teeth chattered so hard her jaw ached. But she knew the truth. If she recorded that video, Forrest would see it. The world would see it. Her reputation would be destroyed, and they would kill her anyway.

She clenched her jaw. She forced her chin up. "No."

The man sighed. It was a casual, bored sound. "Your funeral, rich girl."

The loud clack of the iron latch echoing in the empty warehouse sounded like a gunshot.

The cage door swung open.

Carmen screamed. She scrambled backward on her hands and feet, her palms scraping against the rough concrete. Her back hit a cold, brick wall. There was nowhere left to go.

The first Cane Corso lunged.

The sheer force of the animal hitting her chest knocked the breath from her lungs. Her head slammed against the bricks. A blinding flash of white light exploded behind her eyes.

Then came the pain.

Thick teeth sank into her right calf. The dog ripped its head back, tearing through muscle and skin like wet paper. Carmen shrieked, a raw, guttural sound that tore her vocal cords.

She kicked out blindly with her left foot. The sharp heel of her stiletto caught the dog right above its eye.

The beast yelped, dropping her leg. But the pain only enraged it. It let out a deafening roar and clamped its jaws onto her forearm.

The second dog was on her a second later. It grabbed her other shoulder, dragging her in the opposite direction.

Carmen felt her skin stretch. She heard the sickening, wet crunch of her own bones snapping. Blood sprayed across her face, warm and sticky. The agony was so absolute, so consuming, that her brain simply stopped processing it.

Her vision tunneled. The edges of the warehouse turned black.

In her final second of life, she didn't think of the dogs. She didn't think of Evelin. She thought of Forrest Richmond IV. She thought of his dark eyes, the way he used to smile at her before Evelin ruined everything.

Forrest, she thought. Help me.

Then, the pain vanished.

It didn't fade. It just stopped.

Carmen felt light. The crushing weight of the dogs was gone. The cold floor was gone. She opened her eyes and looked down.

She was floating ten feet in the air.

Below her, a bloody, unrecognizable mess of torn silk and shredded flesh lay on the concrete. The dogs were still tearing at it. It took her a full five seconds to realize she was looking at her own corpse.

She tried to scream, but she had no breath. She had no lungs.

An invisible force wrapped around her waist. It pulled her upward, right through the corrugated steel roof of the warehouse.

The night air of New York City rushed past her. She was flying, pulled like a magnet across the East River, straight toward the glowing skyline of Manhattan.

She couldn't stop. She drifted over the skyscrapers, the neon lights blurring beneath her. The invisible tether pulled her toward the most expensive zip code in the city.

She stopped outside a familiar wall of floor-to-ceiling glass.

It was the penthouse. Her home. The home she shared with Forrest.

Carmen drifted right through the solid glass pane.

The living room was warm. The fireplace was roaring. The scent of expensive cedarwood filled the air.

Forrest was sitting on the white leather sofa. He wore his dark silk robe. He held a crystal glass of amber whiskey in his right hand. He didn't look worried. He didn't look like a man whose fiancée was missing. He looked relaxed. A lazy smile played on his lips.

The burner phone on the glass coffee table buzzed. Forrest snatched it up.

"Evelin?" he demanded.

"Forrest, I'm so scared," Evelin's voice trembled through the speaker, playing the perfect, traumatized victim. "I managed to hide from the men she hired... Do you think Carmen will actually record that video and let me go?"

Forrest's grip on the phone tightened.

"She will," Forrest said, his voice cold. "I've already dispatched my security team to your location. Just stay hidden. That woman will do anything for me."

He ended the call, taking a slow sip of his whiskey as he stared at the fire.

Floating near the ceiling, Carmen's soul let out a silent, earth-shattering scream.

Her body wasn't even cold yet. Her blood was still pooling on that warehouse floor. And the man she loved was protecting the woman who had just murdered her.

A cold, heavy despair settled into her chest. It was quickly swallowed by something else.

Pure, venomous hatred.