Starla was speechless.
How was she supposed to pretend a massive, fully-grown man right outside her door didn't exist? She was already furious, and now her blood was practically boiling. Fairfax Yelchin was a relentless parasite she just couldn't shake.
...
By whatever twisted means, Brinley Seabrook had managed to get in touch with Herbert.
When Starla came downstairs the next day, she found Herbert striding into the foyer, looking travel-worn and tense. Their eyes met.
Starla looked away instantly.
"Brinley contacted me," Herbert announced.
Hearing that name sent a violent jolt through Starla's chest. Her temper, which had been simmering, flared completely out of control.
"Hah. It seems I underestimated her," Starla sneered.
Even after being thrown into a hellhole like that, she still found a way to reach Herbert. If Starla had known, she would have chopped off the woman's hands.
"Let me guess. She didn't tell you where she is, did she?" Starla laughed mockingly.
If Herbert was bringing this up now, it meant he didn't actually know Brinley's location. And Brinley herself probably had no idea where she was, either—just that she had been dragged to some inescapable, unfamiliar nightmare.
"Brinley is useful to me," Herbert stated.
"Isn't it because—"
"No!" Herbert cut her off sharply before she could finish. "I told you, that woman isn't that important to me."
'That woman' being the dead one.
When Starla had interrogated him days ago, Herbert had answered without hesitation that the deceased woman wasn't his 'true love' or the one that got away. He hadn't been lying. Perhaps that woman had momentarily occupied space in his world, but she certainly wasn't his ultimate obsession.
Seeing Starla's stony silence, Herbert added, "Once this is all over, you can do whatever you want with Brinley. I won't interfere."


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