Mr. Ethan's lips curled into a smirk, the expression a fusion of amusement and mockery. "Threats come naturally to you, but execution is not your personality," he taunted, slowly dragging his tongue over his teeth. Emma stepped forward, her gaze locked onto his with unwavering intensity. "If I were you, I wouldn't say that," she warned, her voice low and ominous. Mr. Ethan leaned in, his breath hot on her face. "I had big plans for you, Emma. You were exceptional, talented. I wanted you in my bed and I could have given you everything you wanted. But you messed up by coming after me. Now, you'll pay with your life, and your loved ones will suffer too." With a final sneer, he turned and sauntered away. Emma's hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "We'll just have to see about that," she called after him, but couldn't ignore what he had just said about coming after the people she loved. Ethan had always be open about his attack on her, but clearly letting her kn
The kitchen resembled a destructive whirlwind's aftermath, its disorganized state causing Tina to recoil in fear and shock. Pots and pans littered the ground, cupboards flung open, their contents strewn about in a chaotic display of shattered dinnerware and scattered sustenance. Upon hearing the sound of breaking glass and Tina's gasps, Emma hurried over to investigate. Her breath caught in her throat as she entered the kitchen. The dining table lay on its side, chairs haphazardly overturned. The room was littered with shards of broken glass from shattered plates. Emma's voice came out barely above a whisper, "Why did they not ravage the living room?" Tina merely shrugged, her shoulders tense and her movements jolty as she backed away from the kitchen. Emma watched as Tina's eyes rapidly scanned the damage, before striding towards the bedroom. Emma followed, her heart hammering in her chest. Tina flung open the bedroom door, revealing a scene of complete chaos. Clothes were f
"The founder and former CEO of the Maddox empire, Mr. Ethan, has become a topic of speculation in the town's gossip circles. Shocking revelations have surfaced from an undisclosed source, implicating his role in his wife's death six years ago; what was previously deemed a murder has now been declared a suicide by the authorities," the reporter declared, her delivery calm yet laced with intrigue. Emma leaned in, transfixed by the news unfolding on the television screen. The reporter's words echoed in her mind, leaving her in a state of disbelief. "Furthermore, new details have emerged about a recent fire that engulfed a building. According to another anonymous source, Mr. Ethan's personal assistant and son were spotted near the premises just hours before the incident," the reporter continued. The camera panned to the charred remains of the building, the sight causing Emma's heart to race. She recognized the structure as the place where Tina had been staying, now reduced to a smold
Turning away from the window, she took a moment to survey her office. She hadn't really taken the time to appreciate it before. The polished mahogany desk, the sleek black leather chair, meticulously organized shelves. However, there were subtle signs of rearranged items—a misplaced book, a slightly open drawer, and a wastebasket filled with shredded paper. It was clear that Mr. Ethan had visited late at night. He had evidently been busy, removing anything that could implicate him. Emma made a mental note to have the locks changed. She approached the shelf where she had retrieved a folder during her initial few days on the job. Most of the documents were now missing, leaving empty gaps and a thin layer of dust. She ran her fingers over the remaining files, her mind racing with inquiries. Returning to her seat, she glanced at her itinerary for the day. The board meeting was scheduled for later on, and she dreaded it. Letting out a sigh, she turned to her computer and began typing
Emma dusted her nose with a frantic movement, swiftly scanning the room for as though there could be more somewhere in her office. The contents of the nylon weighed heavily on her as she stared at it, the sleek office now feeling increasingly suffocating. The once neatly arranged papers on the desk, the chairs, the walls, the entire office now seemed to be mocking her, almost as if they knew her new found secret. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she hurried towards the door, hastily shutting it and securing the bolt. As her heart raced, she knelt down to conceal the container, her trembling fingers struggling to wrap it up as it was before. In a frenzy, she made her way to the bathroom. She vigorously scrubbed her nose, the icy water meeting her face as she splashed it in the sink. As she stood in front of the mirror, wide-eyed and overwhelmed, her thoughts raced. What was the purpose of hiding a package of cocaine in a microwavable container in the fridge? Who could have done this?
Time passed swiftly, each moment stretching into infinity as aching hunger tormented Emma's stomach and uncertainty tormented her thoughts. At long last, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the deafening stillness, and Emma stood up with a rush of anticipation coursing through her veins. But as she gazed upon the solemn expressions of Lucas and the bald-headed man in the black suit—the attorney—she instinctively knew that the news would not be in her favor. "What am I being accused of?" Emma's voice was hoarse, her throat parched with fear. "Just tell me already! Stop stalling!" The attorney paused, his gaze shifting to Lucas before finally responding. "Possession of hard substances, involvement in the murders of Sheryl Jones and Damien, and orchestrating your own kidnapping." Emma stumbled backwards, shocked by the impact of these accusations that reverberated in her mind like a cold blast of icy water. "And there is no option for bail," the attorney added, his word
Lucas entered after Mr. Mario, his eyes narrowing as he observed the retreating figure. "He came to see you?" he inquired, suspicion lacing his voice. Emma nodded, her gaze falling as she settled back onto the cell bed, her mind whirling with so many thoughts. "Did the attorney say anything?" she inquired, her voice barely above a whisper. She needed to steer the conversation, to focus on something that might offer a glimmer of hope. Lucas saw the subtle plea in her eyes but decided not to push further. "Not really," he answered, sighing as he raked a hand through his hair. "He has gathered the evidence they have against you. He will review it and come to interrogate you tomorrow. Just tell him the truth. I believe he will secure your release." He offered a small, encouraging smile, though it did not quite reach his eyes. Emma nodded, a flicker of gratitude in her weary countenance. They sat in silence, the air heavy with unspoken words and the faint sound of footsteps in the co
Lucas's hand dipped into his pocket, and Emma squinted in suspicion. "Please don't tell me you intend to propose to me in a damn cell," she quipped, a flicker of humor creeping into her otherwise serious tone. "Hell no," Lucas chuckled, shaking his head as he produced a handkerchief and handed it to her. "I am not that foolish to that in this vulnerable state." Emma accepted the handkerchief, her smile widening as she blotted her tears. The soft material was a soothing balm. The tenseness in the atmosphere seemed to dissipate, replaced by a moment of mutual warmth. "I will speak with Tina, see what she has to say," Lucas vowed, gripping Emma's hand. His touch was reassuring. "I pledge to return later this evening. If i can't make it this evening, I will return tomorrow morning, no matter the circumstances." Agreeing with a mix of relief, Emma nodded. "Lucas," she gently began, "you can confess that you had foretold this outcome. I know it lingers behind your mind." Lucas grin