The Wife He Left Behind While He Built a World for Another Woman Chapter 03

The Wife He Left Behind While He Built a World for Another Woman Chapter 03

Vincent sent no one to search for me for the rest of the day. Instead, he accompanied Celeste to Mass.

After the service, he drove her home himself.

One hand rested on the steering wheel. His sleeve was rolled up, exposing the lean line of his wrist and an old knife scar.

The car was silent until his phone suddenly buzzed.

He glanced down, and the message glaring from the screen read:

Unknown Number: [You have time to go to Mass with your nun, but not to care whether your wife lives or dies?]

Vincent frowned slightly.

Celeste turned toward him, caught sight of the message, and gently took the phone from his hand.

“See? I told you your wife was fine. She still has time to have someone send messages like this just to drive a wedge between us.”

She was about to return the phone when a video message suddenly appeared.

Inside a dim warehouse, a heavily pregnant woman lay curled on the freezing concrete floor with her hands and feet bound.

A mud-caked boot was planted hard against her swollen abdomen.

The woman’s face was covered in blood. Her eyes were red as she stared directly into the camera.

It was me.

Celeste froze as she watched the screen. Her fingers hovered in the air, trembling slightly.

The reaction lasted only a second.

She quickly composed herself and calmly swiped across the screen, deleting the video permanently.

It vanished as though it had never existed.

As if nothing had happened, she gently slipped the phone back into Vincent’s suit jacket pocket.

At that moment, it buzzed again. The call came from the same unknown number.

Vincent kept one hand on the wheel, glanced at the screen, and answered with open impatience.

“What do you want this time?”

Malloy’s cold voice came through the phone.

“Vincent, bring a hundred million dollars if you want your wife back alive. Otherwise, you’ll have only yourself to blame for what happens to her.”

“A hundred million?” Vincent repeated, a cold smile touching his lips.

“Fine. I can give you that.”

He paused, his voice turning flat and utterly detached.

“But let my wife go and have her come home on her own. Once she gets there safely, you’ll get the money.”

His fingers tapped against the steering wheel.

“And tell her to stop pulling stunts like this.”

He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the center console.

Celeste turned to him with a soft laugh.

“Mrs. Rinaldi really is demanding. She opens her mouth and asks for a hundred million dollars like it’s nothing.”

She lowered her gaze to her hands, her voice edged with self-mockery.

“I’m just an ordinary nun. I have to beg donors just to cover repairs to the parish church.”

The car’s interior was dim. Streetlight after streetlight slid across Celeste’s profile, making her look frail and forlorn.

Vincent looked at her and took her hand firmly in his.

“You’re nothing like her.”

“She grew up pampered and has never known real hardship.”

“You’re different. I’ll never let anyone make you suffer again.”

Celeste looked up, her eyes slightly red. After a moment of silence, she gently squeezed his hand.

The phone buzzed again.

It was still the same unknown number.

Vincent glanced at the screen and ignored the call.

The ringtone continued for a long time before finally cutting off.

A threatening text appeared immediately afterward.

Vincent barely looked at it before typing a single reply.

Vincent replied: [Enough. Keep this act up, and it won’t be funny anymore.]

He sent the message, then blocked the number for good.