Henry POV

The moment the waiter informed me that Wendy had left, I felt played—completely and utterly.

Damn her. Damn Wendy and her conniving duplicity.

My fist slammed against the bar with a force that splintered the wood beneath it. The waiter let out a startled shriek.

Before she could call the authorities, I tossed her a substantial stack of bills.

"Henry, you need to call her. She wouldn't leave without reason," ...