And so it was.

The man who, for the past thirty years, had been Bartholomew Wakefield, the creation of Judith Land, watched from behind a large hemlock as Andrew Balaton tied his boat to the small dock on the eastern edge of Badger Rock Island. The wind had picked up, and the ocean was choppy and as gray as the sky. For the moment, the rain had stopped.

A wiry, timid figure, Andrew Balaton walked down the dock, and he had a hunted look as he glanced all around him. He had always tried to hide from his own fears, to run away from the terror that was inside him, from who and what he was. So he had come to the West. He had married a famous actress. He had become the head of a giant corporation.

But inside he had not changed, and Bartholomew Wakefield was the one person left in the world who could remind Andrew Balaton of who and what he was. Who could prove to him that he could never run far enough or long enough to escape from his own wretched skin.

Better than most, the man they had called orült szerzetes knew the horror a frightened man could wreak. When he was threatened, this Andrew Balaton would resort to his old methods. He would strike again, viciously and wantonly.

And this time, Bartholomew Wakefield was determined not to arrive too late to stop his destruction— not as in Hungary, not as in Los Angeles, when he had found Judith Land had already challenged her husband. Already pregnant and disillusioned, she had left. She wanted an immediate divorce. She wanted to cut her losses, quickly and cleanly, and get on with her life. But she made the mistake of thinking her penniless husband would acquiesce to her wishes.

Bartholomew Wakefield knew better. Before anyone else could, he had volunteered to find the straying wife of a fellow Hungarian...only to stop Balaton from finding someone who would bring Judith back to him. Following Lillian Parker, he had located Judith Land in a Tennessee valley. And he had convinced her, he thought, of what she must do.

“You must wait, Judith. Don’t press your demands now.”

“Why?”

“He won’t permit you to divorce him. For the sake of your child, you must wait.”

“Balaton has nothing I want for my baby—not even a name. And no matter what happens to me, the baby will inherit everything I have over him. It’s in my will.”

“Trust me. If he sees his new life disintegrating before it’s even had a chance to begin, he’ll do anything to stop you.”

“He can’t stop me. I’ll talk to my father—”

“It won’t matter. This Andrew Balaton will ensure that you never draw another breath of happiness in your life. For now, you must give him some hope. Hide here with me, have your baby. Then we will see what must be done.”

“He wouldn’t...hurt my baby.”

“If he perceives either you or your child as a threat, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you both.”