Hearts Remember What Minds Try To Forget by Rex Wilder 16

Back in the city. 

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Thanks to Lucas’s comprehensive tip–off, revealing all leads and inside information, the police had swiftly apprehended Chloe. News of her confession immediately shot to the top of the trending topics, sending shockwaves across the entire internet. 

At a downtown nightclub, a group of wealthy heirs were engrossed in discussing the scandal: 

“You guys hear? Word is Mr. Thorne practically coerced the Vance heiress into confessing. If she hadn’t, it wouldn’t have just been a padded cell in a mental institution. She probably would’ve lost her life.” 

“Damn, though, she’s in a rough spot. Mental asylum or jail, either one’s a death sentence.” 

“Serves her right for messing with Mrs. Thorne’s family. She had it coming.” The same heir continued, “Mr. Thorne’s actually put a huge bounty out for anyone who can find his wife’s whereabouts. He’s offering all the remaining shares of the Thorne Group to whoever can find her-” Before he could finish, the nightclub doors burst open, and all eyes snapped to the entrance. 

It was Lucas. 

He’d been drinking himself into oblivion here lately, alcohol the only way to numb the gnawing pain. 

The moment he stepped inside, he settled onto a barstool, ordered a few shots of hard liquor, and downed them, desperate to get 

wasted. 

Fifty–three days had passed since she walked out, and Lucas was a wreck. 

He’d never imagined he’d lose her for so long, or that her absence would plunge him into such a deep, suffocating despair. 

Despite the reward for information being public for weeks, there hadn’t been a single lead, not even a whisper. 

Lucas felt like a ghost haunting his own life, a restless husk merely existing. Without me, even the act of breathing felt like a hollow, pointless chore. 

And yet, the world kept turning, oblivious. Women, utterly lacking in self–awareness, still tried to use every opportunity to ensnare 

him. 

Inside the club, a scantily clad model, all practiced curves and come–hither eyes, slinked against Lucas, her body practically melting into his. She purred, a simpering smile plastered on her face, “Mr. Thorne, darling, why bother with liquor when you could have something so much sweeter?” 

Lucas’s gaze turned chillingly cold, his brow arching as he asked, “Oh? And which part of you is that?” 

The young model snaked her arms around Lucas’s neck, her lips brushing his ear as she murmured, “I’ll take you to a private room, and you can taste for yourself.” 

As she spoke, her hand began to drift lower, seeking his fly.. 

But before she could connect, Lucas’s hand shot out, seizing her wrist in an iron grip. 

The model froze, stunned, then a sharp cry tore from her throat. She shrieked in agony, pleading for help, as others around them heard the sickening crack of bone. 

The club owner rushed over, pulling the model protectively behind him. He looked at Lucas, his face pale with fear, and begged, “Mr. Thorne, I… I’ll give you information about Mrs. Thorne’s whereabouts if you spare her life. She’s my sister, please, Mr. Thorne, let her 

go!” 

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A dark, mirthless laugh tore from Lucas’s chest. He’d met too many liars these past weeks, every single one of them claiming to know where she was, but every single time, they were only trying to swindle him. 

He assumed the club owner was no different. His hand shot out, grabbing the man’s collar, his fist itching to connect. The owner, however, reacted instantly, thrusting a phone with a photo–filled screen forward. “Mr. Thorne, look! I have proof! But I was just… I was just so scared you’d think I was trying to swindle you, I never dared to approach you directly…” 

Lucas’s brows furrowed tight. His gaze, still hard, dropped to the photos on the club owner’s phone, then widened in stunned disbelief. When the image was zoomed in, a shock ripped through him, making his scalp prickle with an almost painful awareness. 

The woman in the photo… it was really her! 

There she was, standing inside a building that looked unmistakably like an orphanage, surrounded by a throng of children, laughing alongside them. 

It was her… 

It really was her… 

Lucas’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm. He tore his gaze from the photo, pinning the club owner with a furious intensity. “Where is she? What’s the address in this picture?!” he demanded, his voice raw. 

Before the club owner could even open his mouth, Lucas’s secretary burst through the door, his face flushed with excitement. “Mr. Thorne!” he shouted, “I’ve found Mrs. Thorne! She’s in Fairfield City, abroad!” 

A smile, one he hadn’t worn in what felt like an eternity, finally broke across Lucas’s face. The raw, desperate excitement that surged through him was uncontrollable. “Arrange a private jet!” he barked at his secretary, the command sharp and immediate. “I’m going to bring her home right now!” 

He’d get me back, no matter what. Even if I never forgave him, Lucas would bring me back to his side, even if he had to fall to his knees and beg. 

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