Chapter 2: Red headlines

Elena's alarm blared through the silence, slicing through her sleep like a blade. With a groggy groan, she reached out blindly, smacking the stop button with more force than necessary. Her body felt like it had been run over by a truck—every muscle heavy, every limb aching from exhaustion. She blinked against the harsh light streaming in through her window, wincing as a dull throb pulsed in her temples. If she could just have five more minutes… maybe even ten… but reality came crashing down when her gaze darted to the clock.

Her heart lurched. She was late.

Cursing under her breath, she yawned so hard her jaw cracked, then hurriedly tossed her blanket aside. The bed was still warm and inviting, and a traitorous part of her wanted to crawl right back in, but there was no time for that. As she hastily smoothed out the sheets—more out of habit than effort—her mind replayed last night’s events. She vividly remembered how her mother had shivered the day before, leaving the store earlier than usual, her steps unsteady, her face pale. The sight had unsettled Elena, a sharp reminder that no matter how strong her mother tried to appear, she wasn’t invincible. She’s sick. She needs rest. The thought gnawed at her, tightening her chest with worry. She needed to check on her—now. Atleast for the reason of being worried.

Elena’s feet barely touched the ground as she rushed to her mother’s room, the door creaking softly as she pushed it open. Empty. Her stomach clenched. She pivoted on her heel and hurried to the parlor. No sign of her. The kitchen? Still nothing.

A chill crept up her spine.

She tried to stay logical. Maybe she had gone outside for fresh air. Maybe she was lying down somewhere Elena hadn’t checked yet. But the fear gnawed at her logic, its grip tightening with every passing second.

Then she remembered.

The billionaire’s kidnapping.

The memory slammed into her like a freight train. The masked men. The gunshots. The raw terror of that night. Even though she seemed like a hero on the whole plot, the chaos had been enough to shake her. The fact that she had somehow escaped untouched still felt like a miracle. But what if the kidnappers had tracked her down? What if they had come back to silence loose ends?

What if something had happened while she slept? What if she had collapsed? what of if they were secretly intruded? So many questions flashed her mind.

Before she could stop herself, she bolted out the door, panic clawing at her chest.

And then—she froze.

There, sitting on a low stool in the early morning sun, was her mother. Combing Maya’s hair.

The tightness in Elena’s chest loosened so fast she felt momentarily lightheaded. Her mother looked… fine. More than fine, actually. The soft hum of a tune escaped her lips as she carefully guided the comb through Maya’s thick curls, the little girl squirming under her touch. "Mum, it hurts," Maya whined, scrunching her nose.

"Hold still, my love. Just a little more," their mother soothed, her voice patient and warm.

Elena stood frozen in the doorway, taking in the scene like she couldn’t believe it was real.

Her mother turned her head slightly, catching sight of her. "Oh, sweetheart," she called out, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You’re finally awake. I thought you needed the rest. You had a long, tiring day yesterday, and I feel better. Thank you, my love."

Elena let out a sharp breath, her body still buzzing from the adrenaline rush. "Mum, you scared me!" she scolded, walking toward them, her hands still trembling slightly. "You really need to rest. The doctor said you have to take your medication twice a day—with actual rest, not running around doing things like this."

Her mother chuckled, shaking her head as she finished braiding Maya’s hair. "Why are you so worried?" she teased, her eyes twinkling. "I gave birth to you, sweetheart. I know what’s best."

Maya, now free from her mother’s grasp, turned to grin at Elena. "Yeah, Elena! Mama is strong!"

Elena rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re impossible," she muttered, before glancing back at her mother, her expression softening. "Just… promise me you’ll take it easy, okay?"

Her mother reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Elena’s ear. "Only if you do too."

Elena sighed but didn’t argue. The moment was too peaceful, too precious to ruin with more worry. Instead, she sat beside them, letting the warmth of the morning sun soak into her skin.

Elena took a deep breath, stretching her arms before pushing herself up from the wooden stool. The morning air was crisp, the sky shifting from soft pinks to a clear blue as the sun climbed higher. It was time to start the day.

"Mum," she called, brushing the wrinkles from her sweater. "I’m heading to the store. Mrs. Whitmore mentioned yesterday that she needed some baby clothes, and I already have them in stock. Just take it easy today, okay? I’ll handle everything."

Her mother gave her a tired but appreciative smile from where she sat on the patio, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. "You’re such a blessing, sweetheart. Thank you."

"See you later, sis!" Maya chirped, her tiny fingers still playing with the ends of her freshly braided hair.

"Same, sis," Elena replied with a chuckle, ruffling Maya’s hair before turning toward the house.

She rushed inside, grabbed her coat and sling bag, and stepped onto the quiet street. The town was already waking up—storefronts opening, the scent of fresh coffee drifting from a nearby café, early commuters zipping by on bicycles. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and quickened her pace.

Then something caught her eye.

At first, it was just a flash of bold, red letters on a newspaper stand outside a corner shop. But as she walked closer, the words became clearer, practically shouting at her from the front page.

"ESCAPED!"

Elena stopped in her tracks, her heart giving a strange jolt. Beneath the headline was a photo of him.

Adrian Blackwood.

She bent slightly, scanning the smaller text beneath the dramatic headline.

"Billionaire Adrian Blackwood successfully escaped from his kidnappers in a daring turn of events. His resilience has shocked the whole city of San Francisco proving once again that he is as fearless as he is powerful."

A frown tugged at her lips. Fearless? Powerful?

She had been there. She had heard the gunfire, the frantic voices, the sheer chaos of that night. It hadn’t been some calculated escape—it had been raw, desperate survival. Yet now, they were turning him into a legend.

She sighed, shaking her head as she continued walking. "Billionai—" she started, but the word stuck in her throat.

Because there he was.

His face—larger than life—flashed across a massive screen mounted on a building ahead. The news broadcast played a clip of him leaving the hospital, his movements sharp and decisive, his posture unyielding despite the bandage on his arm. The press swarmed around him, microphones shoved forward, voices clashing in frantic attempts to get a statement.

"Mr. Blackwood! Can you tell us how you managed to escape?"

"Did you recognize any of your kidnappers?"

"Do you plan to increase your security?"

But he barely acknowledged them. Without a word, he slipped into the waiting black SUV, the door shutting behind him with finality. No answers. No explanations.

Elena narrowed her eyes, watching as the clip replayed in slow motion.

How is he still walking like that? she thought, remembering the injury she had seen. The blood. The way he had struggled to move. Yet now, he carried himself like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just faced death.

A shiver ran down her spine.