This was exactly how Darleen used to treat her. Whenever Fairfax brought her home, Darleen would try to serve her leftovers, only to have them whisked away when she cleverly placed them in front of Fairfax, allowing Darleen to play the role of the gracious hostess.
But Starla had no interest in playing nice. Whether Fairfax was present or not, she was done being the good guy.
Darleen and Xenia stared at the disgusting mess on their plates. Refusing to eat, they went upstairs, changed their clothes, and left, even bundling up Brinley to take with them. On their way out, they grabbed a few small bags.
The door clicked shut.
“They’re probably planning to stay somewhere else,” Garret whispered to Starla.
“Is everything arranged?”
“Yes,” Garret confirmed. He had already taken care of all the hotels and restaurants in the area. They wouldn't find a meal or a room anywhere.
Starla smiled, satisfied. “If they’re not willing to eat this, they’ll be eating it for a long time to come.”
She would keep them hungry enough to suffer, but not hungry enough to starve. That kind of conscious torment was the cruelest.
“Understood,” Garret said.
A call came in from Yardley. “Fairfax’s overseas assets are nearly dealt with.”
All the vulnerable parts had been cleaned out. The damage to the Yelchin Group was immense, with staggering financial losses. Word was probably already reaching Harley Yelchin.
“Okay,” Starla replied. “I know.”
“You should hurry things up, too,” Yardley advised. “I don’t know why you’ve decided to torment them instead of just divorcing him, but don’t drag this out for too long.”
“I know,” she said. “It won’t be long.”
Fairfax’s suffering had only just begun. It would all be over when he finally broke.
...
That afternoon, Fairfax was taking a client out to lunch when he was stopped at the door of the restaurant.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Yelchin, but you can’t enter our restaurant,” the host said nervously.


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