Too late to save her

Louis' POV

The moment I picked up the phone and heard that voice again, a chill ran down my spine.

“Let her go!” I growled into the speaker, my voice rough, raw, nearly shaking with fury.

Whoever it was this person calling from a blocked number, their voice masked with some kind of distortion they weren’t new. This wasn’t the first time they’d dialed me. I remembered the last three digits: 165. They used to call constantly, then stopped. And now, they were back.

“If you want to see your wife alive,” the voice hissed, “come now. Alone. Or she dies.”

My grip tightened around the steering wheel. My knuckles turned white. Every fiber in me screamed not to give in, not without knowing for sure. This could be another trap. I had enemies more than I could count. Anyone could be using her as bait.

“Show me proof,” I demanded through clenched teeth.

A low laugh crackled through the line. “You’re a funny man. Your wife is in danger, and you’re asking for proof? Fine. Here you go.”

A second later, my phone pinged.

I glanced down. My breath caught in my throat.

The image stared back at me like a punch to the gut.

Eveyeln.

Her lips taped shut. Hands bound tightly behind her. Her eyes were swollen, red. Her dress was torn at the hem.

My heart lurched violently.

“You bastard!” I shouted, rage boiling in my chest. “If you hurt her ”

“I told you,” the voice interrupted, calm, almost entertained. “Come alone. I’ll send the location.”

The call ended.

A message came through immediately. A location pin.

For a second, I froze. Should I go? What if this was a setup? What if they killed her the moment I stepped in?

My phone buzzed again this time it was Denis, my private investigator.

“Hello,” I answered, putting him on speaker as I sped down the highway.

“Sir, I just wanted to let you know I’m still working on tracing the calls you asked me to monitor. They’ve been rerouted through several channels. It’s not easy, but I’ll get them.”

“He just called,” I snapped. “Two minutes ago. I recorded it. I’m sending the audio to you now. Isolate the voice. I don’t care what it takes track the bastard.”

“I will,” Denis promised. “But Sir, where are you going?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” I ended the call.

Another buzz.

This time, the voice was different. Younger. Familiar.

“Sir, your mother’s assistant here. You need to come to the hospital. Your mother she’s very, very sick.”

My heart dropped. “What?”

“You need to come. Now.”

Without hesitation, I spun the car around and headed toward my mother’s house. Eveyeln... I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you. But if anything happens to Mom.

I parked and rushed inside, my heart pounding.

There she was. On the couch. Perfectly fine. Drinking tea. Watching the news.

“What the hell, Mom!” I snapped.

She looked up, feigning innocence. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”

“They said you were sick! In the hospital! I nearly lost my mind rushing here!”

She rolled her eyes and took another sip. “You never come to see me unless something’s wrong. So, I made something up. Don’t act like it’s not the only way to get your attention.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? I don’t have time for this”

I turned to leave, but she caught my wrist, gently.

“Don’t go. I made you something.” She handed me a glass of juice, her eyes soft, imploring. “Drink. Just one sip, please.”

I sighed. Fine. One sip, then I’m gone.

I drank. Cold. Sweet. Innocent enough.

Until the world tilted.

Colors blurred. My knees buckled.

“What the Mom…” My words slurred as everything spun.

Darkness.

When I came to, I was lying in my old bed, in the room I grew up in. My head felt heavy. My limbs numb.

My mother sat beside me, watching like a hawk.

“Mom,” I groaned, struggling to sit up. My gaze shifted to the clock. Hours had passed.

My phone off.

Panic surged in my chest. “What the hell did you do to me?!”

She flinched, hurt flashing in her eyes. “I just wanted you to rest.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “What? Why?”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” she said quietly. “You’ve been walking around like a ghost. And you think I wouldn’t notice?”

I looked away.

She wasn’t wrong.

Since the wedding years ago, sleep has been a stranger. I’d been using womenstrangers as distractions. Their bodies became my escape. My temporary cure.

I didn’t want to touch my wife. Not because I didn’t want her but because I did. Too much. And getting close to her meant risking everything. I couldn’t afford to care. Caring hurt.

But I did care.

More than I should have.

I remembered the first time I saw her. She wouldn’t remember it.

A cold night. I’d tried climbing over the fence at my friend’s place and fell, cutting my leg open. She rushed out no words, no hesitation. She ripped fabric from her own clothes to wrap my wound. Her hands trembled, but she didn’t stop.

After that, I couldn’t forget her.

When I found out she’d be the one I was marrying I was relieved. I’d requested her hand in secret, dealing with her father behind her stepmother’s back.

I wanted to give her space. Freedom. A way out.

But I went about it the wrong way.

She wanted a divorce now. After everything.

It was my fault.

I was a terrible husband.

I made her feel unwanted. Unseen. I pretended not to care so she wouldn’t get close.

But the truth? I’d fallen for her the moment I saw her again.

And now I might lose her forever.

“No,” I whispered to myself. “I won’t let that happen.”

I stood up abruptly and began throwing on my clothes.

“I’m leaving,” I said, grabbing my keys.

“Louis ” my mother began, but I didn’t look back.

I had to find her. Had to make things right.

As I sped down the road, the sun already dipping low behind the buildings, a newsflash on a digital billboard caught my attention.

“A woman in her twenties found dead near an abandoned warehouse this evening. Authorities are working to identify the body.”

No.

No.

I slammed the brakes and turned toward the warehouse. The same address from the message.

When I arrived, the place was cordoned off. Police cars, sirens, yellow tape.

An officer stopped me as I tried to push through.

“Sir, you need to go home. We’re securing the area.”

“Who is it?” I asked, chest heaving. “The woman… who is she?”

“We don’t know yet. Please, go home.”

I stumbled back to the car, barely breathing.

Was it her?

Did I just lose her…?

Back at the house, something felt off.

The air was too still. The silence, too loud.

I stepped inside cautiously, every sense on high alert.

Someone was here.

And then I saw her.

But it wasn’t Eveyeln.

It was Erica.

My wife’s sister.

Smirking.

Before I could say a word, she threw herself at me, her lips pressing hard against mine.

I staggered backward in shock, grabbing her arms. “Erica, what the hell are you”

The front door swung open.

And there she was.

Eveyeln.

Alive.

Standing there frozen, her phone slipping from her hand and hitting the floor with a hollow thud.