D.N.A TEST. BrieAt the office, I couldnât get my head to focus on the load of paperwork sitting on my desk. My fingers tapped restlessly against the mahogany surface, the rhythmic sound doing little to drown out the storm of thoughts raging in my mind. I couldnât focus.My mind kept drifting back to Derrick. I had a gut feeling that he wasn't going to stop, and it amplified my worry. I knew Derrick, I've been with him almost all through college, and he wasn't the type that gives up that easily. Once he set his mind on something, he pursued it with relentless determination. And now, that determination was fixated on Liam.A cold feeling of anxiety tightened in my stomach. What if this changes everything between Smith and I? Smith had been nothing but patient, understanding, but how long could that last? What if one day he woke up and decided this was too much..that I was too much? He hadnât called since Iâd told him about Derrickâs threats, and the silence was deafening. Was he pulli
The AmbushSmith I rested my back against the soft Vip couch, A Cigar in-between my fingers. The deep, pounding bass of the clubâs sound system reverberated through the walls of the VIP section, drumming against my chest like a heartbeat. The low lighting cast long shadows across the leather booths, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of expensive liquor, cigar smoke, and the faint metallic tang of wealth I swirled the amber liquid in my glass absently, watching the ice cubes clink softly against the crystal, but my attention wasnât on the drink. It was on them. Three men sat across the dimly lit club, sitting in a shadowy booth near the back. They werenât laughing, werenât drinking, just staring. Their gazes were locked onto me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. The tallest of them had a face like chiseled stone, his cold eyes unblinking. The other two flanked him like sentinels, their postures rigid, their hands resting too casually on the table.Cold prickle wo
TakenSmith The first thing I felt after hours was the cold splash of water hitting my face, shocking me awake. My body jerked instinctively, but my arms were bound tightly behind me, the rough bite of the rope cutting into my wrists. I gasped, blinking rapidly as droplets of the water splashed rolled down my cheeks, some slipping past my lips, salty, like sweat or seawater.My head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind my temples. Where the hell was I? The last thing I remembered was leaving the club. I had spotted those three weirdos at the club staring attentively at me, I got uncomfortable and decided to leave there. A few minutes drive into the highway and bang, we were Ambushed by a vehicle I think, gunshots fired. Then nothing. A sharp pain at the back of my skull, darkness swallowing me whole. Harsh sunlight burned through the fabric of the hood over my head. A hand yanked it off, and I winced as the glare stabbed at my eyes. I squeezed them shut, my pulse hammering in my thr
The News of Smith's kidnap.It was Monday morning again. The office hummed with its usual morning inactivity. Keyboards clacking, hushed conversations, the occasional ring of a phone. I sipped my lukewarm coffee, scrolling through emails, my mind already drifting to the dinner plans Smith and I had made for tonight. He had promised to take me out to this new exquisite 5 star restaurant downtown. Somewhere low-key, away from prying eyes. Our secret had been held for months, and though sneaking around was exhausting, it was necessary. The last thing either of us needed was office gossip painting me as the woman who slept her way to the top. Suddenly came a shouting from the hallway. A sharp panicked voice sliced through the dull morning, followed by the heavy thud of the directorâs door slamming open. My head snapped up. Across the floor, clusters of employees had frozen mid-task, necks craning toward the commotion. Murmurs spreading like wildfire. âWhatâs going on?â I muttered, mo
The Wrong MoveDerrickThe sun was a merciless beast today, pounding down on the construction site like it had a personal vendetta against us. Sweat trickled down my temple as I bit into my turkey sandwich, the bread already soggy from the heat. The little cafÃĐ across the street was our only refuge. Air-conditioned, stocked with cold drinks, and, most importantly, far from the dust and noise of the site. Trevor, my foreman and the closest thing I had to a friend on the job, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before taking a swig of his iced tea. "Man, if it gets any hotter, I swear I'm gonna start stripping layers right here," he joked, fanning himself with a napkin. I chuckled, but my mind wasnât really in it. Iâd been distracted all morning, ever since that call from Tyrell last night. The guy was unstable on a good day, and after what Iâd asked him to do, or rather, not to do, I wasnât sure if heâd actually listen. Then the TV above the counter caught my eye. The ne
The Call Bridget It was 6pm in the evening. The fluorescent light filtered weakly through the kitchen as I sat hunched over the counter, my fingers wrapped tightly around my second cup of coffee. I have been stuck to the burner phone I had bought earlier, like my life depended on it. Waiting patiently for the next call since the last one, which came the day before yesterday, but nothing was coming through. The bitter warmth of the coffee in my mouth did little to soothe the restless knot in my stomach. After tonight would make it three days. Seventy two agonizing hours since Smith had vanished without a trace. The police had visited earlier to ask a few questions cause somehow they got to know Smith and I had something going on. I constructed a statement carefully, not giving out too much information that might end up putting Smith in jeopardy. The kidnapper from the phone earlier had warned me never to get the police involved, so I was super careful and selective with my words.A
Desperate WithdrawalBrieThe bank was crowded, a sea of impatient faces and restless bodies shifting in slow-moving lines. The air hummed with hushed conversations, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards, and the occasional sharp ring of a telephone.My legs trembled as I stepped forward, clutching the withdrawal slip in my damp fingers. The pounding in my chest was so loud I could barely hear my own ragged breaths. The bank official, a middle-aged man with wire-rimmed reading glasses perched low on his nose, barely glanced up before taking the slip. His name tag read Mr. Donald. His expression was neutral and professional. The kind of man who followed procedure without question. My stomach twisted. "Madam," he said, adjusting his glasses, "youâre requesting to withdraw $300,000 in cash?" His voice was steady, but his eyes flickered with curiosity and suspicion. "Thatâs a substantial amount. May I see your identification, please?" I swallowed hard, my fingers clumsy as I pulled out
The rescue mission. Brie"Madam?" I jerked my head up. Mr. Donald stood before me, holding the small briefcase I had brought with me. "Your withdrawal is ready." I nearly sobbed in relief, snatching the briefcase and clutching it to my chest. The weight of it. $300,000 in crisp bills felt like both salvation and condemnation. "Thank you so much," I whispered. He hesitated, then slipped a small piece of paper into my hand. "My direct line. If you need helpâĶ call me." I nodded numbly and rushed out, clutching onto the briefcase. Outside, the night air was thick with humidity. I walked over to where I had parked my car. Got in and said a few words of prayers before igniting the engine and hitting the road.The ride was a blur of fear. The road looked like a haunted ghost highway. All I could see was darkness as I sped ahead. The car's engine roared in my ears, matching the frantic rhythm of my heart. After a long ride, I finally arrived at the old and abandoned gas station. I sat
GymDerrickAt the gym, the barbell moved in rhythm with my breathing. Each rep burned through my chest and arms, but the pain was a welcome distraction. The gym had always been my escape, a place to silence the noise in my head. Lately, though, no amount of weight could press away the burden I carried. There were too many moving pieces, too many loose ends.Smith had been a major problem, and for now, he was out of the way. But was it really over? I exhaled sharply and racked the barbell, my arms trembling slightly from exertion. Sitting up, I let the sweat drip down my face, wiping it off with the back of my hand. My heart was still racing, but it wasnât just from the workout. Tomorrow was the day I was supposed to meet up with Bridget and baby Liam at SYNLAB for the D.N.A test, but since Smith's disappearance, I became hesitant.I had lost the guts to call her to talk about it. I kept thinking, what if she thinks I did it? The last thing I wanted was getting in the cross hairs. If
The rescue mission. Brie"Madam?" I jerked my head up. Mr. Donald stood before me, holding the small briefcase I had brought with me. "Your withdrawal is ready." I nearly sobbed in relief, snatching the briefcase and clutching it to my chest. The weight of it. $300,000 in crisp bills felt like both salvation and condemnation. "Thank you so much," I whispered. He hesitated, then slipped a small piece of paper into my hand. "My direct line. If you need helpâĶ call me." I nodded numbly and rushed out, clutching onto the briefcase. Outside, the night air was thick with humidity. I walked over to where I had parked my car. Got in and said a few words of prayers before igniting the engine and hitting the road.The ride was a blur of fear. The road looked like a haunted ghost highway. All I could see was darkness as I sped ahead. The car's engine roared in my ears, matching the frantic rhythm of my heart. After a long ride, I finally arrived at the old and abandoned gas station. I sat
Desperate WithdrawalBrieThe bank was crowded, a sea of impatient faces and restless bodies shifting in slow-moving lines. The air hummed with hushed conversations, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards, and the occasional sharp ring of a telephone.My legs trembled as I stepped forward, clutching the withdrawal slip in my damp fingers. The pounding in my chest was so loud I could barely hear my own ragged breaths. The bank official, a middle-aged man with wire-rimmed reading glasses perched low on his nose, barely glanced up before taking the slip. His name tag read Mr. Donald. His expression was neutral and professional. The kind of man who followed procedure without question. My stomach twisted. "Madam," he said, adjusting his glasses, "youâre requesting to withdraw $300,000 in cash?" His voice was steady, but his eyes flickered with curiosity and suspicion. "Thatâs a substantial amount. May I see your identification, please?" I swallowed hard, my fingers clumsy as I pulled out
The Call Bridget It was 6pm in the evening. The fluorescent light filtered weakly through the kitchen as I sat hunched over the counter, my fingers wrapped tightly around my second cup of coffee. I have been stuck to the burner phone I had bought earlier, like my life depended on it. Waiting patiently for the next call since the last one, which came the day before yesterday, but nothing was coming through. The bitter warmth of the coffee in my mouth did little to soothe the restless knot in my stomach. After tonight would make it three days. Seventy two agonizing hours since Smith had vanished without a trace. The police had visited earlier to ask a few questions cause somehow they got to know Smith and I had something going on. I constructed a statement carefully, not giving out too much information that might end up putting Smith in jeopardy. The kidnapper from the phone earlier had warned me never to get the police involved, so I was super careful and selective with my words.A
The Wrong MoveDerrickThe sun was a merciless beast today, pounding down on the construction site like it had a personal vendetta against us. Sweat trickled down my temple as I bit into my turkey sandwich, the bread already soggy from the heat. The little cafÃĐ across the street was our only refuge. Air-conditioned, stocked with cold drinks, and, most importantly, far from the dust and noise of the site. Trevor, my foreman and the closest thing I had to a friend on the job, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before taking a swig of his iced tea. "Man, if it gets any hotter, I swear I'm gonna start stripping layers right here," he joked, fanning himself with a napkin. I chuckled, but my mind wasnât really in it. Iâd been distracted all morning, ever since that call from Tyrell last night. The guy was unstable on a good day, and after what Iâd asked him to do, or rather, not to do, I wasnât sure if heâd actually listen. Then the TV above the counter caught my eye. The ne
The News of Smith's kidnap.It was Monday morning again. The office hummed with its usual morning inactivity. Keyboards clacking, hushed conversations, the occasional ring of a phone. I sipped my lukewarm coffee, scrolling through emails, my mind already drifting to the dinner plans Smith and I had made for tonight. He had promised to take me out to this new exquisite 5 star restaurant downtown. Somewhere low-key, away from prying eyes. Our secret had been held for months, and though sneaking around was exhausting, it was necessary. The last thing either of us needed was office gossip painting me as the woman who slept her way to the top. Suddenly came a shouting from the hallway. A sharp panicked voice sliced through the dull morning, followed by the heavy thud of the directorâs door slamming open. My head snapped up. Across the floor, clusters of employees had frozen mid-task, necks craning toward the commotion. Murmurs spreading like wildfire. âWhatâs going on?â I muttered, mo
TakenSmith The first thing I felt after hours was the cold splash of water hitting my face, shocking me awake. My body jerked instinctively, but my arms were bound tightly behind me, the rough bite of the rope cutting into my wrists. I gasped, blinking rapidly as droplets of the water splashed rolled down my cheeks, some slipping past my lips, salty, like sweat or seawater.My head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind my temples. Where the hell was I? The last thing I remembered was leaving the club. I had spotted those three weirdos at the club staring attentively at me, I got uncomfortable and decided to leave there. A few minutes drive into the highway and bang, we were Ambushed by a vehicle I think, gunshots fired. Then nothing. A sharp pain at the back of my skull, darkness swallowing me whole. Harsh sunlight burned through the fabric of the hood over my head. A hand yanked it off, and I winced as the glare stabbed at my eyes. I squeezed them shut, my pulse hammering in my thr
The AmbushSmith I rested my back against the soft Vip couch, A Cigar in-between my fingers. The deep, pounding bass of the clubâs sound system reverberated through the walls of the VIP section, drumming against my chest like a heartbeat. The low lighting cast long shadows across the leather booths, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of expensive liquor, cigar smoke, and the faint metallic tang of wealth I swirled the amber liquid in my glass absently, watching the ice cubes clink softly against the crystal, but my attention wasnât on the drink. It was on them. Three men sat across the dimly lit club, sitting in a shadowy booth near the back. They werenât laughing, werenât drinking, just staring. Their gazes were locked onto me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. The tallest of them had a face like chiseled stone, his cold eyes unblinking. The other two flanked him like sentinels, their postures rigid, their hands resting too casually on the table.Cold prickle wo
D.N.A TEST. BrieAt the office, I couldnât get my head to focus on the load of paperwork sitting on my desk. My fingers tapped restlessly against the mahogany surface, the rhythmic sound doing little to drown out the storm of thoughts raging in my mind. I couldnât focus.My mind kept drifting back to Derrick. I had a gut feeling that he wasn't going to stop, and it amplified my worry. I knew Derrick, I've been with him almost all through college, and he wasn't the type that gives up that easily. Once he set his mind on something, he pursued it with relentless determination. And now, that determination was fixated on Liam.A cold feeling of anxiety tightened in my stomach. What if this changes everything between Smith and I? Smith had been nothing but patient, understanding, but how long could that last? What if one day he woke up and decided this was too much..that I was too much? He hadnât called since Iâd told him about Derrickâs threats, and the silence was deafening. Was he pulli