MELISSA’S POV Within moments, footsteps thundered down the hallway and the ICU doors burst open. The doctor rushed in, accompanied by two nurses. I hurriedly stepped back, my hand reluctantly letting go of Listowel’s as I made space for the doctor to get to work. The doctor checked the monitors, adjusted the IV, and examined Listowel with sharp, focused precision. The nurses and junior doctors stood still as they observed him. The silence in the room was deafening, only the beeps from the machines pierced through the air. Minutes later, Dr. Mensah turned to me with a small smile. “He’s stable now. This is a perfect sign, Melissa. He’s not fully conscious yet, but the brain activity has improved significantly. I believe he’ll wake up soon. The worst is over.” He announced. My knees wobbled slightly at the good news, causing me to let out a deep breath of relief. I couldn’t believe I had finally heard the doctor say “the worst is over”. “Thank you, doctor,” I whisper
MELISSA’S POVThe loud sound of the sirens hadn’t stopped echoing in my ears.I stood outside the emergency unit, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, as I paced up and down. Maybe I shouldn't have left him. Maybe I should have accepted when he offered to ride me to the office before he went home. Then this wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have been on the road at that time of the crash and would have been able to escape the looming danger. My eyes were bloodshot from the tears I was shedding. I struggled to breathe as I fought to stop the sobs that escaped my lips. The white hospital walls blurred around me and the fluorescent lighting above me made my headache. Then bang.I could still recall the loud sound the car made as it crashed. For a minute, I saw my life flash before me as Listowel and Kevin screamed from the impact. Kevin was supposed to pick both Listowel and me from the airport but as soon as we landed, I had an emergency call so I had to leave the two and go t
HITMAN’S POVThey said you get used to it but never have I ever. The guilt, the adrenaline, the memory of colliding metals and screams from both innocent and guilty people filled my memory day in day out. For years, I've managed to shut it down and learn to live with it, but it feels like I'm in a war zone each day.The incessant ring of my burner phone jolted me out of my thoughts. Picking it up, I recognized the number on the screen immediately. It was the Coleman girl—the spoiled rich brat who was gradually becoming a regular customer of mine. Mostly, I get clients who want me to finish up a job for them and go our separate ways. But not this one. She has had something for me to do at least every three months. Letting out a sigh, I answered the phone. She didn’t even say hello.“It’s time,” she said. “The car’s arriving at Terminal B. Plate number CDR-883-P. You must follow it keenly till you get a good spot to crash. Don’t forget the woman is the main target. Don’t make any
LETICIA’S POV I didn’t come to La Maison Rouge to overhear a murder plot. I came to enjoy dinner with my sister and her husband, something that rarely happens. I hadn’t seen them in months. Between my boss, Giovanni’s relentless demands at work, and the growing cold between me and everyone else at the office, it was only wise that I came out to her as an excuse to get some space to myself and breathe. I excused myself to the restroom after we finished eating the appetizers, hoping to fix up my makeup and have a moment to myself before the main course arrived. But as I was sitting in one of the cubicles at the restroom, I heard a voice that sounded familiar. I brushed it off because I didn't think it would be from someone I knew. Later another voice joined in the other person’s own. Ignoring it as a typical chatter between ladies, I resumed dressing up. I was in the last cubicle, the far end of the restroom. My heels clicked lightly on the floor as I reached into my purse for
WENDY’S POVNot even once in my life did I ever think I would be in the same room, sitting across from disguised Emily Coleman in a tucked-away booth at La Maison Rouge, pretending to be sipping on sparkling water. Wind of failure hovered between us as we stared into each other's eyes. The tension between us was thick such that even a knife couldn’t cut through. Yes, we are both failures. What brought us together tonight was that we both pursued Listowel yet lost. The clinking of cutlery from other tables filled the air as I thought of our petty alliance. Emily’s red lips curled into a light smirk as she twirled a glass of wine she was holding. Her eyes looked swollen while her chest heaved with anger. She consistently stole nervous glances at me before daring to break the palpable silence. “You’re awfully quiet today,” she said impatiently. Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts?”I looked at her, really scrutinizing her whole body as I tried to process her pride even after
It’s been a month since everything happened.I still wake up sometimes and have to remind myself that it’s real—that my name has been cleared. Emily’s web of lies has been unraveled before the whole world, thanks to my grandma finally releasing the tape after weeks of keeping it hostage. As I expected, the public's backlash against Emily has been harsh and brutal. Just like what happened to my company, her dad's is now on the receiving end. Investors are pulling out, and people are also boycotting their products. The International Ballet Board has suspended her for two years as punishment for lying to me. As a result, she's been stripped of her title as the best ballerina in the country. Oh how great it would have been if u had added the video of her bullying colleagues back in high school to it. She would have been done for good. Well, I can't complain much. The drags she's going through right now are more than enough for me. Besides, keeping this secret of hers to myself means