Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I closed my eyes, sinking deeper into meditation. The world around me faded as I focused on my energy pathways, directing healing energy to areas still recovering from yesterday's confrontation. Ms. Hayward's assassins had been skilled—more than I expected. Though I'd dispatched them, they'd managed to land a few blows.

A timid knock interrupted my concentration.

"Liam Knight?" A woman's voice called from outside my door.

I opened my eyes, irritation flickering through me. "What is it?"

The door cracked open, revealing a young woman in her twenties. Her clothes were disheveled, her face pale with fear.

"Please," she whispered, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "I need your help. They're after me."

I studied her carefully. Trembling hands. Rapid breathing. Eyes darting constantly. Either genuine terror or an exceptional performance.

"Who's after you?" I asked, not moving from my seated position.

"Men from the Veridia City Martial Guild." She stepped inside, closing the door quickly. "They've been hunting me since yesterday. Someone said you might help me."

The mention of the Guild sharpened my attention, but suspicion immediately followed. This was too convenient.

"Why would the Guild be after you?" I asked.

"I witnessed something I shouldn't have." She wrapped her arms around herself. "A ritual involving a woman with silver-blonde hair. They were extracting something from her blood."

Isabelle. My heart rate spiked, but I kept my expression neutral.

"And you expect me to believe that you, a random civilian, stumbled upon one of the Guild's most guarded secrets?"

Her eyes widened. "You know about it already?"

"I know enough to recognize a trap when I see one," I replied coldly. "Who sent you? Broderick? Ms. Hayward? Or perhaps Dominic Ashworth?"

"No one sent me!" Her voice rose in desperation. "I swear! I work at the Academy as a cleaner. I was assigned to the eastern research wing when I saw them take her—"

"Stop." I stood up, towering over her. "Your story has holes. The eastern research wing has been sealed off for months. No cleaners are allowed inside."

She paled further, backing toward the door. "I—I meant the western wing."

"Get out." I turned my back on her. "And tell whoever sent you that they'll need to do better."

"Please," she begged, grabbing my arm. "I'm telling the truth! They'll kill me if they find me."

I shook off her grip. "That's not my problem."

Tears welled in her eyes. "They said you were different—that you fought against the Guild. Was that all lies?"

"Get. Out." I pushed past her and opened the door. "Now."

She stared at me for a long moment, her expression shifting from desperation to something closer to resignation. Without another word, she hurried out.

I closed the door behind her, my mind racing. The mention of Isabelle wasn't coincidental. Someone was testing me, probing for reactions or weaknesses. But why such an obvious ploy?

I resumed my meditation, but remained alert, extending my senses beyond the walls of the mansion. As I suspected, the woman hadn't left the Academy grounds. Instead, she'd headed toward a small administrative building near the center of the campus.

* * *

"You failed." Ms. Hayward's voice was ice cold.

The young woman knelt before her, trembling. "I'm sorry. He didn't believe me."

"Of course he didn't believe you." Ms. Hayward circled her like a predator. "Your performance was pathetic. You're supposed to be our top student actress."

"He's more perceptive than we thought," the woman whispered. "He knew details about the eastern wing—"

A sharp crack echoed through the room as Ms. Hayward struck her across the face. Blood trickled from the woman's split lip.

"Excuses." Ms. Hayward grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up. "The plan was simple. Make him believe you're in danger. Get him to follow you to the meeting spot. Nothing more."

"I tried—"

"Not hard enough." Ms. Hayward released her roughly. "We need him isolated, away from the Academy and witnesses. The Elders are growing impatient."

"Give me another chance," the woman pleaded. "I can make it more convincing."

Ms. Hayward considered her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yes. You will make it more convincing."

Before the woman could react, Ms. Hayward's hand flashed out. A glowing blade of energy sliced across the woman's abdomen—not deep enough to kill, but enough to draw significant blood.

The woman screamed, clutching at the wound.

"There," Ms. Hayward smiled coldly. "Now you're in real danger. Return to him. If you fail again, I'll finish what I started."

* * *

I was preparing to leave when the frantic pounding came at my door. Opening it, I found the same woman from earlier, now doubled over in pain. Blood soaked through her shirt, dripping onto my doorstep.

"Please," she gasped, collapsing forward.

I caught her reflexively, feeling the warm wetness of blood against my hands.

"What happened?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"They found me," she whimpered. "Said I talked too much. Please, help me get away from here."

I carried her inside, laying her on a couch. The wound was deliberate—clean, controlled, designed to bleed impressively without causing fatal damage.

"You're being used," I told her quietly, pressing a cloth against the cut.

She looked up at me, real fear in her eyes now. "I know."

That surprised me. "Then why come back?"

"Because they'll kill me if I don't bring you." A tear slid down her cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Not for people like me." Her hand clutched at mine. "Just go with me. Please. At least you can defend yourself."

Before I could respond, the front door opened. Dominic Ashworth strolled in as if he owned the place, his eyes immediately finding us on the couch.

"Well, well," he drawled. "What a touching scene. Liam Knight, the heartless beast, showing compassion after all."

I stood, positioning myself between him and the injured woman. "What do you want, Dominic?"

"Just checking on my neighbor." His gaze slid to the bloodstained couch. "Seems like you have a problem on your hands."

"Nothing I can't handle."

His smile was all teeth. "Really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're refusing to help someone in desperate need. Not very heroic of you."

"Cut the act," I growled. "We both know what this is."

"Do we?" He raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."

"A setup. She appears on my doorstep begging for help. I rescue her. Then I'm lured somewhere isolated where your Guild friends are waiting."

Dominic laughed, the sound unnervingly genuine. "My, what an imagination you have. Not everything is a conspiracy against you, Knight."

"With you, everything is."

He shrugged, turning toward the door. "Believe what you want. But remember this moment when you're boasting about your moral superiority. The great Liam Knight, turning away a bleeding woman begging for help."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me with the injured woman still bleeding on my couch.

"He's right about one thing," she whispered. "They chose me because they knew you wouldn't leave someone to die."

I looked down at her. "Who are you? Really?"

"No one important." Her smile was bitter. "Just a pawn who made the mistake of taking Academy scholarship money."

I weighed my options quickly. If I refused, she might die—either from her wound or as punishment for failing. If I went along with it, I'd be walking into an obvious trap.

But a trap I could see coming was one I could potentially turn to my advantage.

"Where are you supposed to take me?" I asked.

Hope flickered in her eyes. "The old training grounds in Whispering Woods, about a mile east of campus."

"And what happens when we get there?"

She hesitated. "I don't know exactly. They just told me to bring you."

I nodded, reaching a decision. "I'll help you. But first, understand something." I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If this is more elaborate than the simple ambush I'm expecting, if Clara or anyone else I care about is targeted while I'm gone, there will be no place on earth where you can hide from me."

Her eyes widened. "I swear, it's just about you. They want to eliminate you quietly, away from witnesses."

"Then let's not keep them waiting." I helped her to her feet. "But remember my warning."

"I will." She leaned against me, partially for support and partially for show. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," I replied grimly. "This night isn't likely to end well for either of us."

* * *

The Whispering Woods lived up to their name. Even in the stillness of night, the leaves seemed to murmur secrets as we passed beneath the ancient trees. The woman—who finally introduced herself as Mira—grew increasingly nervous as we approached the designated meeting spot.

"It's just ahead," she whispered, pointing to a small clearing bathed in moonlight.

"I know." I'd been sensing the presence waiting for us for the past quarter mile.

She glanced at me uncertainly. "You still have time to turn back."

"No, I don't." I kept walking. "And neither do you."

The clearing appeared empty when we entered, but I knew better. A figure stood in the shadows on the far side, watching silently.

"I brought him," Mira called out, her voice trembling slightly. "As you asked."

Ms. Hayward stepped into the moonlight, her elegant features composed into a mask of clinical detachment. "So you did. Good girl."

Mira moved toward her, relief evident in her posture. "My wound—it's still bleeding."

"Is it?" Ms. Hayward smiled thinly. "Let me help you with that."

It happened so quickly that even I barely saw the movement. Ms. Hayward's hand flashed out, energy coalescing into a blade of pure light. It sliced across Mira's throat in one clean, precise cut.

Mira's eyes widened in shock, her hands flying to her neck as blood poured between her fingers. She made a horrible gurgling sound, staring at Ms. Hayward in disbelief before collapsing to the ground.

I moved instantly, catching her before she hit the dirt. But it was already too late. The light faded from her eyes as she convulsed once, twice, and then lay still in my arms.

"Why?" I demanded, looking up at Ms. Hayward. "She did exactly what you wanted."

"Loose ends," she replied calmly, the bloody energy blade dissipating from her hand. "She served her purpose."

I gently laid Mira's body on the ground, then stood to face Ms. Hayward. "I knew this was a trap, but killing your own pawn seems excessive, even for you."

"A trap?" She laughed softly. "Oh no, Mr. Knight. This isn't a trap. It's a frame."

Understanding dawned. "You're setting me up for murder."

"Precisely." She gestured to the bloody scene. "Young Academy student murdered in the woods. Witnesses saw her leave with the mysterious Liam Knight. Blood found on his clothing. It writes itself."

I felt a cold fury building inside me. "You think anyone will believe that?"

"Everyone will believe it." Her smile widened. "The evidence is quite compelling. And when they search your quarters, they'll find other incriminating items planted there earlier today."

"You're not afraid I'll tell them what really happened?"

She took a step closer, utterly unafraid. "You're the one who killed her. Why should I be afraid?"

"We both know that's a lie."

"Do we?" Ms. Hayward's voice turned silky. "What the public will know is that Liam Knight took advantage of a female student and killed her to cover up his deeds. The Academy's disgraced new teacher, revealed as a monster. It will make quite the scandal."