Read Novel Full Chapter 443
Chapter 443: Chapter 443
She was hiding something. I could feel it in the way her shoulders stayed tense, the way her eyes flicked to the screen like she was waiting for a bomb to go off. Whatever Chase had in that folder, she thought it tied back to "K." And "K" was holding those OnlyFans videos over her head. If she helped Nala—or me—she risked exposure. That’s why she’d been dodging.
"Why become a doctor?" I asked, breaking the silence.
She didn’t look up. "I had a knack for it."
"You also had a knack for computer stuff." I tilted my head. "Blessed, huh?"
"I wouldn’t call it blessed. Just lucky, is all."
"Luck, huh?"
"Yep."
Silence stretched again. Her fingers paused on the keys. She looked up at me.
"Where did you get this ’folder’ you’re trying to get into?"
"Like I said... personal stuff." I kept my voice even. "Just let me know when you crack it. It’s important for me, okay? Like, really important. It’s regarding a friend of mine."
"Which friend?"
"You really ask a lot of questions, huh?"
She held my gaze for a long second, then looked back at the screen. "Only when I’m deadly curious, Mr. Marlowe."
She clicked something. I could almost see a progress bar filling up slowly. She waited, jaw tight.
I tried to stay casual, but my pulse was up. Whatever was in that folder, only I needed to see it. No extra eyes. Not yet.
"I’m in. Their password is... 5454." Maeve said quietly. "Now, let’s see..."
"Great."
I triggered Time Stop.
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SHOP [Page 2]
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• Hypnotic Perfume (40c)
• Time Stop (90c)
• 500 Dollars (50c)
• 1 Ability Point (150c)
• 1 Mastery Point (160c)
• Desire Aura (100c)
• Reputation Point +30 (200c)
• Mastery Evolve (1500c)
• Random Passive Skill (1700c)
==========================
Credits: 3499c
╰────────────────────╯
The world froze. Maeve’s hand hovered over the mouse. The progress bar stopped mid-fill. Coffee steam hung motionless above her cup.
I grabbed the laptop and sat on one of the sick beds in the corner of Maeve’s office. The progress bar was nearly full, the program telling me it had only ten seconds left. I waited, staring at the screen, but those ten seconds stretched like ten years. Sweat prickled along my hairline and down my back. My palms were damp. I wiped them on my jeans without thinking. Why the hell was I this nervous? It was just a folder. Just videos. But my stomach twisted anyway, like I already knew something ugly was waiting.
The bar filled. The folder opened.
Four names. Four women’s names. Three of them jumped out immediately—the ones who’d taken their own lives. Chase’s patients. Articles I’d read flashed through my head: the headlines, the photos, the dates. These were definitely them. The fourth folder was labeled simply "IVY." I clicked it first. Empty. Nothing inside.
I backed out and opened the first folder: "Mary S."
Two videos.
I clicked the first one.
"Um, so I am... I...." The screen was black at first. A few moments later, hands entered the frame and propped the camera up somewhere. The image steadied.
Mary sat on her bed, holding a bottle of sleeping pills. She had been crying—cheeks red, eyes glossy and swollen. She wore pajamas, the background blurred enough that I couldn’t make out much detail. The camera quality was grainy, 480p at best.
She looked young. Twenty, twenty-two maybe. Long eyelashes. Long brown hair. I’d seen her photo in one of the articles about Chase. This was definitely her. One of his patients.
"I’m... doing it, Mr. Bellings." Her voice cracked. "Like you advised... there’s no rule in this world that everyone has to be happy. Some folk are just... designed to lose. And I’m one of them."
She popped open the bottle with shaking fingers.
"Thank you for letting me see the truth, Mr. Bellings." Tears rolled down her face. She lifted the bottle to her mouth. "I’m... sending this video to you now. And deleting it afterward. I hope my video would be of help to some of your patients, too."
She swallowed more than ten pills in one go, then tilted the bottle again for more. Her crying turned hysterical—shaking her head, shoulders heaving. My stomach turned. Fucking poor thing... what the fuck was wrong with this cunt? Driving his patients to suicide? What in the actual fuck?
She reached for the camera. The video ended.
I closed it and clicked the second video in the folder.
My blood ran cold. It felt like the world stopped spinning, and gravity came crashing down on me, crushing the air from my lungs.
"Yes, fucking slut... drink that shit. You whore."
A tablet sat on a table. Mary’s suicide video played on loop—the part where she spoke, the part where she gulped down the pills. And there was someone else. The camera showed a man with his penis out, jerking off while watching the video. The voice was unmistakable. Chase Bellings. No doubt about it. The background looked like his office desk.
That was all I could see: the tablet, his pathetic dick, and him stroking himself. I skipped ahead a few seconds. At the end, Chase groaned and came on the tablet—right when Mary swallowed the pills on screen.
"Good fucking whore..." he moaned, then slapped his dick against the tablet. "Good fucking whore... that’s right. That’s fucking right..."
The video ended.
"Cunt... fucking cunt..."
I set the laptop on the bed and stood up, frozen in place like Time Stop had hit me too. My stomach lurched. I was going to puke. How dare he... why? Fucking why? I shook my head hard, turned on the laptop’s Bluetooth, and sent all of the videos to my phone.
When the transfer finished, I opened the other folders. Same shit. The women crying, telling the camera they were going to end their lives, thanking Chase for "showing them the truth." Every single one of them.
The fourth folder—Ivy—was still empty. He had his eyes on her next. He was going to make her do it too.
"You fucking asshole." I muttered. "Fucking ASSHOLE!"
I deleted everything from the laptop and placed it back in front of Maeve exactly where it had been. Then I ended Time Stop and walked straight toward the door.
"W-wait," Maeve said behind me. "Where are you going, Mr. Marl—"
"Not now." I cut her off, opened the door, and stepped out.
I pulled my phone out and called Ivy immediately. One ring. Two. Three. Four. Five... finally, she answered.
"Hey, Ev—"
"I’m coming to your house." My voice was tight. "Be there."
"Wha—"
"Just be there. Please."
I hung up and jammed the elevator button. Fuck me... Delilah had been right. Ivy was a hopeless case. How could someone be so bad at choosing who to trust?
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."
❤︎❤︎❤︎
A very nervous Ivy opened the door after I knocked three times. She pulled it wide open without a word, eyes red-rimmed and puffy like she’d been crying before I even arrived. I stepped inside. The apartment smelled faintly of coffee and laundry detergent. Delilah wasn’t home—probably at work. Good. She didn’t need to hear what I was about to say. If she knew just how much danger her daughter had been in because of Chase...
But... why was she crying in the first place? Because of me? Because I yelled at her? Nah. Ivy wasn’t soft like that. But... that didn’t matter right now. I had bigger problems than her. Chase motherfucking Bellings and his sick videos.
"Evan," Ivy closed the door behind me and followed me into the living room. Her voice cracked a little. "Would you just tell me what happened? You didn’t even get back to my texts."
"Chase," I began. "Get away from him."
"Chase?" She let out a sharp, bitter scoff and crossed her arms tight over her chest. "Oh my god. Is my mother putting you up to this?"
"Listen." I turned toward her fully, meeting her eyes. "He is an evil person. And he needs to be locked up in jail. Behind bars forever."
"What are you talking about, Evan?" Her voice came out raw, angry. She dropped onto one of the couches like her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. "My mother, right? She’s putting you up to this? Trying to get me to stay away from Chase."
I shook my head. "Mrs. Komb doesn’t have anything to do with this. Look... I have evidence. Solid evidence that Chase Bellings was driving his patients to commit suicide."
"What?" The word came out small, almost a whisper.
I pulled my phone out and unlocked it... then stopped. My thumb hovered over the gallery app. Showing her those videos like that... would that be going too far? No one should have to see that sick shit. Chase jerking off to women thanking him for convincing them to kill themselves, coming on their suicide confessions...
I locked the phone and shoved it back in my pocket. That would be my last resort. If she wouldn’t listen to reason, I’d have to show her. For now, I had to talk. Persuade. But fuck me, Honeyed Words wasn’t triggering. That meant she believed Chase completely. Believed I was lying. If I’d leveled that skill higher...
"I saw his laptop," I said instead. "He had a folder and—"
"Wait, wait, wait." She cut me off, voice rising. "Did you steal his laptop?"
"I wouldn’t call it stealing."
She shot to her feet and dragged both hands through her hair. "OH MY FUCKING GOD! Are you serious? Chase was right about you."
"What?"
"You’re stalking me." She nodded hard, like she was convincing herself. "Aren’t you? You have problems."
"Did he say that about me?"
"He said a lot of things about you. About my mother." Her voice cracked again, eyes shining with tears she was fighting back. "Always against me. ALWAYS!"
"He is wrong, Ivy."
"Fuck you." She pointed at the door. "Get out."
Words weren’t working. That left only one thing.