I slipped in the wireless earpiece the Captain had given me.

Then I made myself impossible to miss.

I hit the upscale boutiques, loading up on jewelry and designer pieces—all charged to Russ's card.

Russ was out with Chloe when his phone started buzzing. Transaction alerts, one after another.

He glanced at the screen. His buddies caught the notifications too, and knowing smirks spread around the table.

"Come on, Russ—women love playing hard to get. First they say they don't want your money, then when you stop paying attention, suddenly they're swiping your card to get it back."

"Exactly. Old clothes, new clothes—unworn is always best."

Russ laughed, pulling Chloe onto his lap. "Cut the crap, all of you. Chloe's the only one I want. Keep running your mouths and making her upset, and we're going to have a problem."

My phone lit up with WeChat messages from his friends.

A few were photos—Russ and Chloe, wrapped around each other.

But one message caught my attention.

"Honestly, you deserve better. A guy like Russ has no heart. Where are you right now? Let me come keep you company."

I pressed my lips together. After a long moment, I typed back a single word.

[Okay.]

That night, Russ called.

His voice was slurred, but his words cut sharp.

"You really have no shame, do you? I told you—I'm with Chloe now. Why can't you just disappear?"

"And now you're working the angles? Going after my boys just to get to me?"

Chloe's voice came through next, syrupy with false hurt.

"Excuse me, but have some self-respect. I'm his girlfriend now. Learn your place and stop clinging to him."

"Besides, he's already bringing me to meet his parents. Stop lying to yourself."

Russ's voice, still thick with liquor: "That's right. I'm going to marry Chloe."

There was rustling on the line—muffled sounds I didn't want to interpret.

Then Russ again, voice dropping low, tender in a way I recognized.

"My family has strict rules. Harsh ones. But don't worry, baby—I'll never let them touch you."

"If they don't approve, I'll take you away. Anywhere. I won't let anyone make you suffer."

I ended the call.

My chest ached like something had driven needles straight through it.

All those times—gasping under the weight of their family's "rules," begging him for help—

His response was always the same weary sigh.

"I got my leg broken standing up for you. And you can't handle this much?"