The dark weather and cold breeze that brushed Allison’s skin couldn’t ease the hurt buried in her chest. The sky hung heavy, casting a gray shadow over the cemetery.
With her hands quivering as they grabbed the sides of her black dress, sixteen-year-old Allison stood at the edge of the grave, her eyes red and swollen from grief. It was a small coffin, as if its size mirrored how little time her mother had spent with her—just sixteen short years.
Beside her stood her father, Mr. Blackwell, a man of rigid strength, yet even he could not mask the pain of losing his wife. He quickly wiped away a tear from his face. His other hand rested on Allison’s shoulder, a gesture meant to offer comfort, but she barely felt it. He awkwardly patted her shoulder again. He didn't quite know how to ease her sorrow or comfort her.
"I’m consoled you’ve gone to rest from this toxic world, but I'll forever miss you, my love," Mr. Blade whispered emotionally, but his words fell into the heavy silence that surrounded them.
Nadeem, one of the dependable family guards for Mr. Blackwell, kneeled next to Allison and gently reassured Allison, reminding her that she wouldn’t ever have to go through life alone.
“I’m sorry you had to experience this love. It’s okay to feel sad, but keep in mind that I'll always be here for you; you're not alone.”
Allison only nodded faintly to his reassuring words that barely penetrated her. She was still consumed by the harsh reality of her mother's permanent absence in her life.
“I’m dearly sorry for your loss, sir,” Nadeem continued softly. Turning to Mr. Blade’s, his head bowed slightly out of courtesy.
Trying to be strong for his daughter, Mr. Blade kissed her on the forehead and tenderly wiped the tears that fell down her cheeks. He muttered gently, “It’s time to go home now, Allison. I promise I'll be with you every step of the way, protecting you as a father should.”
Allison began breathing erratically as she murmured farewell to the one person who had ever understood her.
Together, they turned away from the grave, leaving a new mound of earth behind that represented Allison's final moment as a child. Though she didn’t know it then. The world her father tried so hard to conceal would soon merge with hers.
*****
That night sleep was elusive for young Allison; all she could think of was her mother's death. Under the thick blankets, she tossed and turned; the silence that followed seemed to make the evenings last longer.
Unable to rest, Allison slid out of bed. She wandered down the staircase and peeked down towards her father’s study. A low murmur of voices caught her attention, so she quietly crept closer to eavesdrop.
The door to the study was opened slightly. Through the small opening, she saw her father, standing rigidly in front of a man kneeling on the floor. The man was bruised, blood streaking down his face, begging for mercy. Her father was calm—too calm. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, his face an expression of cold indifference.
“Please, forgive me... I swear, it won't happen again," the man stammered, trembling.
“You made a mistake crossing me, yet you won't need to worry since you will pay with your life.” Her father's voice resounded like a poisonous whisper.
This statement was followed by a gunshot that sounded like thunder.It wasn’t her father that pulled the trigger, so Allison quivered and turned to face the direction from which the sound came from. Immediately, the man collapsed to the floor.
With his gun still burning, Nadeem, her father's most trusted security, stood over the inactive body. The room felt frozen in time as blood began to pool beneath the lifeless figure.
"Take care of it." Her dad ordered and turned away, dismissing the dead man like he was nothing more than a broken vase shattered beyond repair. Allison gasped, instinctively covering her mouth, but her father’s eyes snapped toward the stairs. Their gazes locked for a brief second. She felt fear clutch her throat, and she tried to run but she couldn’t move. What she saw had paralyzed her.
Mr. Blade’s eyes widened in panic. "Nadeem, my daughter... Allison,she saw everything.” He stammered nervously, his voice low but strained.
Nadeem glanced over his shoulder toward Allison and quickly holstered his weapon. He walked toward her father, his face calm, calculating.
"We’ll handle it, sir. We’ll say he was a thief—a home invasion gone wrong. It’s believable enough. She’s too young to understand."
Allison wanted to scream, but she couldn't get the words out. Her words were stuck in her throat.
“She wasn’t supposed to see this,” her father muttered, running his hands through his hair. “What would I tell my baby girl?”
Nadeem placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Blade. I’ll make sure she forgets this. She’s just a child. We’ll make sure it never happens again.”
Allison sprinted to her room, stumbling as she climbed the stairs, but never backed down till she got to her room. She sat on her bed, trembling after what she had witnessed downstairs—the man begging, the gunshot, the blood. Her thoughts swirled in confusion and fear.
She jumped when the door to her room creaked open, revealing Nadeem. She shrieked backward from fear as he calculatively walked toward her and knelt beside her, his tone gentle but serious.
“Allison I want you to understand this,” Nadeem began, choosing his words wisely.
“Whatever impression you might have from what you saw downstairs is most likely wrong. That man was a thief. He broke in to harm and steal from your father.”
Blinking, Allison tried to take in what he had said.
“But he was begging,” she whispered, her voice small and confused.
“Why didn’t you call the police?" She asked softly.
Nadeem sighed. “If we did, and he escaped, he would tell others about your father. They would return to exact revenge on your father for ratting out their partner. You just lost your mother; are you prepared to lose your father as well??”
“No… I don’t.” Allison interjected; her eyes widened in fear. The thought of losing her father hurt her.
Nadeem nodded solemnly.
“Exactly, your father is a good man. He would never harm somebody unless it was to keep this family safe or to defend you. That man would have killed him if I hadn’t acted first.”
Allison swallowed hard, wiping her eyes and declaring to Nadeem. “My dad wouldn’t hurt anyone. He’s a good man.”
“That’s right,” Nadeem agreed.
“Now promise me you’ll never speak of this to anyone. To keep you, our family, and our friendship safe," Nadeem inquired, whispering.
“No, I won't; I love my daddy,” Allison responded carefully.
“I know you do, and that’s good of you, love; now, try to get some sleep.” Nadeem proclaimed patting Allison’s hand.
With that, Allison curled under her blankets, desperately clinging to the belief that her father was a hero, pushing away the horror she had just witnessed. But deep down, Allison knew she would never forget.
———————————————.
"Do you, Allison Blackwell, take Dontrell Blade as your husband, in sickness and health, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"“Yes, I do.” The words came out mechanically, a part of me still numb from everything that had happened. I had been kidnapped, tortured, and brought to this moment—standing before an altar, surrounded by people I barely knew, married to a man I hardly understood. As the priest spoke, I turned my head slightly, scanning the crowd. I searched for him. ‘Clayton’. But he wasn’t there. Where was he? Was he angry? Did he wish it were him standing beside me, taking my hand in marriage instead of his brother? A part of me wished he had been the one. But another part was relieved. Because Clayton, with his dark, unyielding eyes and the violent edge to his soul, was the one who had taken so much from me. ‘Dontrell’—his softer, quieter brother—had given me an escape, a way out of a life I feared would drown me. I had no choice in th
The plane landed with a smooth bump, and as I stepped up to the boarding door, the cool San Diego midnight breeze ruffled my hair. Dontrell’s large hand was warm as he took mine, lifting it to place a peck on it.“Let me guide you, my lady,” he murmured, his voice low, close to my ear. “I don’t want you tripping.”Without any more words, Dontrell led me down the plane's stairs, his hand still holding mine. His steps were sure and confident, and his presence was strong as I carefully followed behind. The bright glow of runway lights pierced the night and cast long shadows across the ground. At the end of the step, I was met with the warm grins of a gathering of youthful ladies and men dressed in savvy, blue outfits that made it clear they were part of Dontrell's domestic staff. Their modest appearance was a simple indication of the kind of life I was venturing into—a life where the simplest detail was carefully curated. I adjusted my Chanel bag, holding it tightly against my side. On
I woke up with a start, the coldness of the room hitting me before the alarm even had a chance to screech. My body always seemed to know when it was time, jerking awake moments before the loud, obnoxious beeping could ring in my ears. I grunted, reaching for my phone on the nightstand, and snoozed the alarm as soon as it started its irritating noise.I rubbed my eyes with one hand and my feet together simultaneously to shake off the chill from the air conditioning. The sting of the cold was brief—better than the oppressive LA heat. I propped myself up, resting my back against the cushioned headboard. Turning to my left, there she was—my wife, curled up like a cat, her wavy blonde hair scattered across her back, almost covering her entirely. She clung to the pillow like it was her last lifeline. But that didn't last long. Her face shifted, turning toward me. I couldn't help but notice her slightly parted soft lips and the slight flush of her skin from sleep. She was more beautiful tha
Our car swerved sharply into the compound, the tires crunching over the gravel as it came to a halt. The car parked near the entrance, just next to the circular driveway, where a majestic lion statue stood in the center, its fierce gaze directed toward the grand steps leading into the mansion.I stepped out and immediately felt the icy chill settle over me—the kind that was more than just a breeze, the kind that sank into your bones. It was the same compound they had brought me when they first kidnapped me—those memories felt icy against my skin, clinging to me. Dontrell’s hand pressed gently on my back as we walked forward.“It’s okay if you want to go back,” he murmured beside me, his voice soft but concerned.“No, I’m good,” I lied; my heart was thumping. The truth was, I wanted to be here with him, despite the dark memories tied to this place.As we reached the entrance, Dontrell stopped to pull me closer into his arms. "You know I love you, right?" he whispered, his breath warm a
The sensation of ice water dumped on my head jolted me awake abruptly with a gasp and a sputter as it streamed down my face and mingled with the sweat on my skin already glued in place by the heat of the room.My body spasmed as I struggled to breathe. Panic constricted my chest, and I blinked furiously, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Slowly, the spinning world came into focus—a dim, suffocating room with walls that seemed to close in on me. A shadow loomed overhead. The man’s massive frame eclipsed the faint light, his presence radiating menace. He tossed the empty bucket aside with a loud clang that echoed in the confined space. I tried to move, but the ropes binding my wrists to the back of the chair bit into my skin, holding me firmly in place. My breaths came in shallow bursts as I craned my neck to look up at him. "Oh, our damsel in distress is awake. No, wait—it’s Sleeping Beauty," one of the guards quipped, his sneer pulling laughter from the others. I blinked ra
The pain radiated from my neck as Clayton’s grip tightened, his fingernails digging deep into my skin. The knife still hovered dangerously close to my face, and I gasped for air as his cold breath tickled my skin. “Don’t think for a second you’re getting out of this,” he hissed, his voice venomous.Then, without warning, the pressure eased. But it wasn’t mercy—it was a shift in position. I stifled a breath, the knife finally leaving my face. He crossed in front of me, bending over my shoulder, his body hovering close. His grip remained firm on my neck, and I could feel his heat, his body pressed into mine as he reached behind me. He cut the ropes binding my hands, but I could barely think as his presence loomed over me; the weight of his body on my shoulders held me in place.When the ropes finally gave way, my hands were free, and I gasped, moaning from the relief on my sore skin. My chest tightened, but it didn’t last long. In a split second, the tension in my body snapped into a fr
The pain radiated from my neck as Clayton’s grip tightened, his fingernails digging deep into my skin. The knife still hovered dangerously close to my face, and I gasped for air as his cold breath tickled my skin. “Don’t think for a second you’re getting out of this,” he hissed, his voice venomous.Then, without warning, the pressure eased. But it wasn’t mercy—it was a shift in position. I stifled a breath, the knife finally leaving my face. He crossed in front of me, bending over my shoulder, his body hovering close. His grip remained firm on my neck, and I could feel his heat, his body pressed into mine as he reached behind me. He cut the ropes binding my hands, but I could barely think as his presence loomed over me; the weight of his body on my shoulders held me in place.When the ropes finally gave way, my hands were free, and I gasped, moaning from the relief on my sore skin. My chest tightened, but it didn’t last long. In a split second, the tension in my body snapped into a fr
The sensation of ice water dumped on my head jolted me awake abruptly with a gasp and a sputter as it streamed down my face and mingled with the sweat on my skin already glued in place by the heat of the room.My body spasmed as I struggled to breathe. Panic constricted my chest, and I blinked furiously, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Slowly, the spinning world came into focus—a dim, suffocating room with walls that seemed to close in on me. A shadow loomed overhead. The man’s massive frame eclipsed the faint light, his presence radiating menace. He tossed the empty bucket aside with a loud clang that echoed in the confined space. I tried to move, but the ropes binding my wrists to the back of the chair bit into my skin, holding me firmly in place. My breaths came in shallow bursts as I craned my neck to look up at him. "Oh, our damsel in distress is awake. No, wait—it’s Sleeping Beauty," one of the guards quipped, his sneer pulling laughter from the others. I blinked ra
Our car swerved sharply into the compound, the tires crunching over the gravel as it came to a halt. The car parked near the entrance, just next to the circular driveway, where a majestic lion statue stood in the center, its fierce gaze directed toward the grand steps leading into the mansion.I stepped out and immediately felt the icy chill settle over me—the kind that was more than just a breeze, the kind that sank into your bones. It was the same compound they had brought me when they first kidnapped me—those memories felt icy against my skin, clinging to me. Dontrell’s hand pressed gently on my back as we walked forward.“It’s okay if you want to go back,” he murmured beside me, his voice soft but concerned.“No, I’m good,” I lied; my heart was thumping. The truth was, I wanted to be here with him, despite the dark memories tied to this place.As we reached the entrance, Dontrell stopped to pull me closer into his arms. "You know I love you, right?" he whispered, his breath warm a
I woke up with a start, the coldness of the room hitting me before the alarm even had a chance to screech. My body always seemed to know when it was time, jerking awake moments before the loud, obnoxious beeping could ring in my ears. I grunted, reaching for my phone on the nightstand, and snoozed the alarm as soon as it started its irritating noise.I rubbed my eyes with one hand and my feet together simultaneously to shake off the chill from the air conditioning. The sting of the cold was brief—better than the oppressive LA heat. I propped myself up, resting my back against the cushioned headboard. Turning to my left, there she was—my wife, curled up like a cat, her wavy blonde hair scattered across her back, almost covering her entirely. She clung to the pillow like it was her last lifeline. But that didn't last long. Her face shifted, turning toward me. I couldn't help but notice her slightly parted soft lips and the slight flush of her skin from sleep. She was more beautiful tha
The plane landed with a smooth bump, and as I stepped up to the boarding door, the cool San Diego midnight breeze ruffled my hair. Dontrell’s large hand was warm as he took mine, lifting it to place a peck on it.“Let me guide you, my lady,” he murmured, his voice low, close to my ear. “I don’t want you tripping.”Without any more words, Dontrell led me down the plane's stairs, his hand still holding mine. His steps were sure and confident, and his presence was strong as I carefully followed behind. The bright glow of runway lights pierced the night and cast long shadows across the ground. At the end of the step, I was met with the warm grins of a gathering of youthful ladies and men dressed in savvy, blue outfits that made it clear they were part of Dontrell's domestic staff. Their modest appearance was a simple indication of the kind of life I was venturing into—a life where the simplest detail was carefully curated. I adjusted my Chanel bag, holding it tightly against my side. On
"Do you, Allison Blackwell, take Dontrell Blade as your husband, in sickness and health, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"“Yes, I do.” The words came out mechanically, a part of me still numb from everything that had happened. I had been kidnapped, tortured, and brought to this moment—standing before an altar, surrounded by people I barely knew, married to a man I hardly understood. As the priest spoke, I turned my head slightly, scanning the crowd. I searched for him. ‘Clayton’. But he wasn’t there. Where was he? Was he angry? Did he wish it were him standing beside me, taking my hand in marriage instead of his brother? A part of me wished he had been the one. But another part was relieved. Because Clayton, with his dark, unyielding eyes and the violent edge to his soul, was the one who had taken so much from me. ‘Dontrell’—his softer, quieter brother—had given me an escape, a way out of a life I feared would drown me. I had no choice in th
The dark weather and cold breeze that brushed Allison’s skin couldn’t ease the hurt buried in her chest. The sky hung heavy, casting a gray shadow over the cemetery.With her hands quivering as they grabbed the sides of her black dress, sixteen-year-old Allison stood at the edge of the grave, her eyes red and swollen from grief. It was a small coffin, as if its size mirrored how little time her mother had spent with her—just sixteen short years.Beside her stood her father, Mr. Blackwell, a man of rigid strength, yet even he could not mask the pain of losing his wife. He quickly wiped away a tear from his face. His other hand rested on Allison’s shoulder, a gesture meant to offer comfort, but she barely felt it. He awkwardly patted her shoulder again. He didn't quite know how to ease her sorrow or comfort her."I’m consoled you’ve gone to rest from this toxic world, but I'll forever miss you, my love," Mr. Blade whispered emotionally, but his words fell into the heavy silence that sur