Penelope woke to a loud crash the next morning, her heart pounding in her chest. She washed her face quickly and tied her robe before rushing downstairs with a panicked look etched on her features. As she hurried down the stairs, she almost stumbled, catching herself just in time on the railing.Her mind raced with worry. Did Laura decide to go after her mother? The thought sent a chill down her spine, and she felt a growl forming in her throat as she neared the kitchen, where the sound had come from.Bursting into the kitchen, Penelope let out a sigh of relief at the scene before her. Her mother was standing at the counter, dicing a large pile of carrots, looking perfectly fine. Laura, was kneeling on the floor, carefully picking up the shards of a broken plate.Penelope took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "What happened here?" she asked, her voice still tinged with anxiety.Penelope exhaled heavily, trying to steady her breathing. Her mother turned around, noticing
She tiptoed toward Laura's room, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hand hesitated on the doorknob for a moment. Was she really going to do this? The thought of invading someone's privacy made her uncomfortable, but that wasn't something she should be thinking about at that moment. She clearly would be out of her mind if she dwelled on it.Gently, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. The room was modestly furnished, with a neatly made bed, a small dresser, and a nightstand. Everything seemed ordinary, but she knew better than to take things at face value. She carefully opened the dresser drawers, rifling through the neatly folded clothes. There was nothing out of the ordinary—just the typical belongings of a young woman: brushes, hair gel, hairbands, combs, lotions, stuff like that.Next, she checked the nightstand. There were a few personal items: a small bottle of perfume, another hairbrush, and a couple of books. She opened the drawer and found a notebook. Flipping throu
SOMEWHERE. 9:00PMVictor sighed as he picked a ball out of the basket, balancing it on the gold tee with meticulous care. He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he focused on his target. With a swift, powerful swing, he hit the ball off the tee. It soared through the air, cutting through the darkness before colliding with a sickening thud into the stomach of a bloodied, half-dead man tied to a pole.The man’s body convulsed upon impact, his head lolling forward as a fresh wave of blood splattered onto his blue checkered shirt, its buttons barely hanging on. He couldn't even scream; the pain was too overwhelming, reducing him to nothing more than a series of gurgling coughs that echoed in the still night air. Blood dribbled down his chin, mixing with the grime and sweat that caked his bruised face.The night was illuminated only by the pole lights and the silvery glow of the moon. The scene and eerie, shadows stretching long and dark across the field. Besides him, there were only
Penelope took the hairbrush, her eyes narrowing slightly as she scrutinized Laura’s face. “Uh... thank you, Laura,” she said slowly. “It's...understandable. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”Laura nodded, sporting a respectful smile. “Of course, Miss Penelope. It won’t happen again.”As Laura turned to leave, Penelope’s mind raced. The hairbrush had been in Laura’s room. It was possible she had mistaken it for her own, but something about the situation didn’t sit right with her. She glanced down at the hairbrush, turning it over in her hands. It was unmistakably hers, a gift from a friend, and she knew Laura’s claim of having a similar one could be true, but it felt too convenient.Her's has been in her room all the while, how the fuck did the maid see it and even had the chance to mistake it for her's.Penelope placed the hairbrush on the coffee table and leaned back, watching as Laura continued her journey to the kitchen. The maid’s calmness, her efficiency, even her politene
With a deep breath, she clicked on it and began to read through the contents. The report was comprehensive, detailing every single thing.Molly Stewart, Laura wasn't her real name. She had changed her identity several times over the past few years. There were inconsistencies in her history, gaps that didn’t add up. And then, there was the criminal record – minor offenses, but enough to raise red flags. Petty theft, a few charges of fraud, and a restraining order filed against her by a former employer. It painted a picture of someone who was far from trustworthy.The background report on Laura—or rather, Molly—painted a grim picture. Her relationship history was tumultuous at best. Two exes, one of whom was dead under suspicious circumstances, and the other had left the country abruptly, leaving no forwarding address or contact details. The mere mention of a deceased ex sent a shiver down Penelope’s spine. Molly also had a seven-year-old sister who had been missing for years now. The
151(pictures)Laura moved around, helping the guests with their coats and guiding them to the front door while penelope stood by with a force polite smile and saying goodnight, all while keeping a close eye on Laura. She also noticed the glances the girl sneaked her way from time to time."Thank you for coming," Penelope said to Mrs. Owen, as she helped her with her coat. She was the closest to her mother and wasn't as judgey as the other women. "It was lovely to have you.""Always a pleasure, dear," Mrs. Owen replied, giving Penelope a warm hug before stepping out into the cool night air.Her mother had gone in for the night, as she was tired because of the cooking and preparations she did for the guests, and it also because of that kind of pride in older women, especially towards their peers. She wasn't going to see them off, they don't see each other off, it was their thing.As the last of the guests left, a few women decided to stay the night. They made themselves comfortable in
Anastasia turned over in bed for what felt like the millionth time that night. She sighed deeply and groaned into her pillow, the frustration bubbling up inside her. Sleep was elusive, slipping through her fingers like sand. This was the third time that week Victor was sleeping out, and it disturbed her. Every chance she got to leave the house without Catherine’s hawk-like vigilance, she made her way to the Pierce mansion. But Victor always has something to do, spending little time with her before disappearing and returning only by morning. He never explained where he went, always coming up with a another discussion to divert her attention or simply avoiding the conversation altogether. It was becoming more than just disturbing; it was infuriating.Now, at midnight, she lay awake, worry chewing on her insides. She had sent him a text earlier, and there was still no reply. Sitting up, she grabbed her phone and checked it again—still nothing. Her anxiety spiked as she sent another messa
Anastasia looked away from Lucas and turned on the TV, trying to focus on something else, anything else. The noise didn't fill the room, but at least it did little to ease her mind. “So you're going to stand there all night?” she asked, her voice edged with irritation.Lucas chuckled, but his attempt at humor fell flat. “If that makes you comfortable.”She snapped her head towards him, anger bubbling to the surface. “Comfortable? No, I'm not. You being here doesn't make me comfortable in any way. It's disturbing and creepy, and you won't say where Victor is. But do I have a choice? No! Because he's an asshole who does whatever he wants.”Lucas looked taken aback by her outburst. He shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to respond. “Uh... I apologize, but I'm not in any position to say a word about his work or anything right now, please understand.”Her frustration only grew. She felt trapped by the presence of this stranger in her home, why? did Victor she was incapable of taking care