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CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Last Updated:
2025-02-22 23:28:56
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"I miss you so much, darling," I whispered, hardly audible. "I feel like kissing you right now," I added, my tone having an odd quality, verging on confession. Anticipation clung in the stillness all around us, the kind of omen that suggested it was hammering within every nerve of my being. I could almost visualize Arrow just beside me, his lips a hair's breadth from mine, his breath humid against my skin. In that comforting low voice, Arrow said, "Please take a seat on the bed," his words echoing over the phone. Even so, his voice sheltered me somewhere where a warm summer breeze often walks by, couraging sensations, making me feel secure about that moment wrapped around his arms. His voice was the balm for my aching soul, granting comfort and certainty despite all odds of distance. Despite the fact that you were clung to a nurturing embrace, still conjuring up that memory of an enormous love- cuddling arms. Going to sleep with him, eyelids heavy and body almost melting into what fe
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*************The body bruises and they speak of an action that he must have suffered at some time in the past. All the pains and sufferings have been engraved, in a sort of visual manner, on his very body. My heart ached for him, as this very sadness welled up in me, as if I had a deep well overflowing with sorrow. Let him go, please, let go of him, I was saying, as my heart broke with every word, and my eyes were welling with tears of sorrow and pity. Almost teary, my vision blurred; I watched the man's battered body, his spirit apparently crushed by the brutality meted out to him.But Jacob's face betrayed nothing; his eyes were cold, telling me he was unmoved by the man's suffering; it was indifferent, the kind of look that bore a mask of the emotionally scarred.No, ma, forget that he was pulling your hair; forget that this man slapped you; forget that he walked into your kitchen and ate your food?" The words came slashing through me like cold water that seemed to return me to t
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********** He seemed to feast like one who had a taste for death and had come to the end of all good food. With closed eyes and a face wreathed upward, he savored every chomp, every scent, and the very essence of the food. Slowly but surely-really almost in the fashion of a gentle caress-every morsel found its way to his throat, onwards to his belly, almost as if it were a seduction act. Much thanks, my dearest. The voice was so soft, and the words seemed so genuine that I can almost believe he meant it. Like a gentle stream, the words came from him, flowing endlessly, unabated, as if choking would kill their flow. Who are you? I spoke without delay, my tone firm yet coaxing, attempting to extract the truth gently without pushing him away. You will talk, or we will call the cops, Jacob issued with a threat, his very deep voice sounding authoritative and intimidating, daring the man to contradict the threats. The words hung in the air with an unmistakable weight, like Jacob was tell
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KALMIA’S POVAs I stood in the doorway, paralyzed, the words the man had spoken hung in the atmosphere, almost like a challenge. "Yes, a lady," he had said, speaking in a low growl that shook me to the core. I took pity on the man, whose unutterable sadness clouded his eyes, and the lines etched in despair on his face."It's okay," I said in a gentle manner, reaching out to let him go. "You can go." The man nodded, briefly locking eyes with mine before he turned and walked away into the night.As I watched him walk away, relief washed over me, quickly followed by guilt. I shook my head, forcing the emotions to recede. "We'll talk some more online," I said gently as I turned and entered the house.My hands flew to a pen; fingers curling around it instinctively, I recorded some questions I wanted to throw Arrow's way when he came back. The scratchy noise of the pen over paper gently calmed my chaotic thoughts.Just when I'm finding my flow, the phone blares loudly. For a second, my hear
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While scanning a large group of people and searching the crowd for the person she intended to meet i.e. Jemima, her friend, I felt that my heart raced and eyes rolled out the sound of my blue blood out of respect as it was in the waving arm. The strangest part is that even as I made a move towards her I asked myself whether it was not a mistake and whether I would not regret it very soon. I pressed through and arrived at her side, scanning her face the entire way and as my eyes got to her smilingly radiant face. But as they always say, hindsight is 20/20 and something told me that as a near long-term friend she was just putting on a show to cover up her true feelings. There was that thing in her masquerade eyes, a subtle hint of woe, a distant call for help that made me wonder if everything was okay. "Kalmia, thank you for honoring my invitation," Jemima said, her voice joyful, yet icy. I detected a tinge of strangeness, a lack of warmth, in the way she spoke. "Thank you, Jemima,"
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************* Slumping into the seat of the car, my mind wandered as I began to ingest those same swirling images of the day that formed an ever-tightening vortex threatening to engulf me. It was as if my senses were overloading - a confused jumble of thoughts. Words from the church member who had been talking to me just a moment before were little more than a hum, the kind of barely meaningful background noise you just can't quite tune in. Then there was a question of consuming his mind: the question of Dawn, my daughter, and the details given to me by Samuel. I felt like I was drowning in an ocean of uncertainty, unable to sort through this mass of emotional confusion. I was still digging into these haunting thoughts when I heard faint knocking from the car door. It was a very soft, hesitating type of knocking, yet it jolted me back to reality. I heard Daisy's voice calling for me in a meek, tentative voice. "Mama, mama," she whispered, almost inaudibly. I wiped the tear streaked
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As soon as the woman's gaze clashed with mine, needle-sharp and inquisitive, she put the question that made my heart skip. "What do you mean madam? Do you have anyone who fits the description?" Her tone had a slight implication of curiosity, through the eyes were very eager to know the truth. That gave me a shiver. I stood frozen for a short time, trying to decipher the implications of her question. Jemima stood there in that attitude, hands on her waist, scrutinizing me with an intensity that turned me into a specimen under a microscope. I swear I felt her glare pin me down, as if she too waited for the answer. I inhaled a deep breath, forcing my mind to arrange itself whilst mumbling through an answer. "Y-yeah," I stammered, barely above a whisper. "She was my younger sister with this description...but we lost her into the cold hands of death years back." The relentless eyes of the woman never left mine, while the question that followed fettered me even deeper. "Are you sure she
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Frozen with shock, one hand clung to the phone as though it were a lifeline. The words echoed in his mind. "No, doctor," I pleaded, my voice cracking with anguish, "It was a mistake. My wife is not dead." The rush of my words felt like an attempted incantation to solidify their value. The response was ever so cold, blunt as a hammer. "Sir, we are using her phone to call you," the lady said, and I could hear grim dreadfulness weighing in on her voice; "please come earlier, so she won't be given out to schools to be used as practicals." What water her words had in them slapped me hard, sending ripples of shock into horror. She yelled that death was nothing to her, just an everyday thing, almost to the pitch of shrieking. At that moment, it dawned on me that this person, this stranger on the other end of the line, absolutely could not care less about the gravity of what she was saying. My wife, the love of my life, was to her nothing more than a specimen for experimental dissection.
Last Updated : 2025-03-02
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A DEAL WITH THE BILLIONAIRE CHAPTER NINETY NINE
KALMIA’S POV "Aha, indeed, I will say it because I was the one who put your so-called planned career into action after it brought you down," she spat, maliciously. Visha's eyes flashed with defiance and she sneered at me. The fury surged, and my hands clenched into tight fists. But Visha wasn't done yet. "I framed everything up," she continued in a rising level of triumph tracing her voice. "I turned Jemima against you and shouted toward me, throwing her eyes like the evil beacon on top. It was like getting hit in the gut; breath taken out. "No, oooo," I screamed, throat raw and voice trembling with emotion. "Nothing could separate the things about it. Then out into the air came the loudest cry I made. Tears were rolling down in continuance because each stroke of the event hit down hard at that instant. I couldn't bear the sharpness of pain and betrayal. I couldn't take the sound of another angry word flown in my direction again, as Visha had cut me too deep. I felt as if I was losi
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KALMIA’S POV Her words seemed to slice through the air like a knife, and her voice dripped with venom voicing all her discontent. "I never liked you, Kalmia," she said, looking at me with flashing eyes of fury and disdain. There was this sensation of hurt, surprise mixed with confusion as I furrowed my brows to understand the depth of her emotions. "What do you mean?" I queried in a whipser, scanning her countenance for signs of weakness. The bitterness on that face twisted into a smile that shone malignant hues in her eyes. "So you said I hurt you, and I'm apologizing now, this?" My voice had incredulity and frustration laced into it. How could she even think that I would accept that as compensation for all the damage she had done? Memories of past confrontations and betrayals rushed into my consciousness, replete with a sudden surge of fury and spite against her. Visha was a semblance of what one could have guessed-trapped deeply in her emotions, longing and thirsting for an uni
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KALMIA’S POV I wait outside the cell, anxiously glancing at Mr. Isah with a pleading face while panting in anticipation, tinged with a bit of nervousness. "I'm looking forward to seeing my lost sister, Visha," I say, voice almost inaudible, spilling from my mouth like a confession. Mr. Isah inclined his head in deep understanding; his very look was sympathetic, and turned to lead me through the station, his long strides chewing up the distance into nothingness. Strong cold fluorescent light above the hub flickered and hummed, casting a glaring light on those forms. A heavy, cloying scent of disinfectant hovered in the stagnant air, mixed with a cursed faint tang of despair. My footsteps echoed down the walls as I walked with Mr. Isah into the depths of the station. When we arrived at the cell, Mr. Isah grasped the handle and pushed it open in a slow creak before stepping inside, leaving a dim light casting long shadows across the little room. "Visha", I called, my voice so sweet, l
A DEAL WITH THE BILLIONAIRE CHAPTER NINETY SIX
MR ISAH’S POV I sat at the station in the dark. The soft fluorescent light above cast an eerie glow on the empty chairs and faded floor. Anticipation held my heart in its place, echoing like the drumbeat in my chest throughout my entire being. "Just wai for me, sir," I mumbled to myself with eyes turned toward the phone, where a text from Kalmia said: "I'm on my way", flashing on the screen like a light at the end of a tunnel. "Okay then," I said to myself, slumping back in the chair, a wave of relief washing through my being with the straightening of my spine on the worn-out issue. Time moved forward, and in this losing dusky space, each second was a drag for eternity. I checked my watch what would seem like a million times but felt like the hundredth. My eyes scanned the entire empty station that was growing more impatient with each passing second. The silence clamped down hard, occasionally punctuated with the creaks in the old building and traffic buzzing outside. I shifted in
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MR ISAH’S POV Between walls of thickest warm air, bound by oppressive scents of sweat mingled with fear, I could hardly draw breath, and every breath that I drew seemed to carry some foreign weight crushing into my chest. Visha sat all hunched over in the wooden bench; shoulders barely perceptibly shook; her eyes looked down, refusing to meet mine, locked in mute insubordination to the unasked questions between us. A stubborn silence, thick and impenetrable, stretched between us and with every passing moment added that still very coiled tension within me. "Visha, I'm not answering any of your questions," she finally whispered, so softly it was hard to hear, like a thin thread in an oppressive hush. Although soft, the words smote me with the force of a corporeal blow, burning up the sparks of fury that had been at hand ever so low. "Then okay," I replied in said low, almost dangerous tone, "you are going to do that pen now." It was just a matter-of-fact statement, in the air of an
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MR ISAH’S POV The officer was swift in his movements as he quickly went to handcuff himself and brought out the cold, cruel metal that condemned even the eye of authority under fluorescent light. He moved with practiced ease as he snapped the iron restraints for the inevitable fate into place around Visha's wrists, the cliched sound like that of a prison door shutting. A clang like that of metal sounded ominously echoed around the cell. "No, ooooo," she screamed, her voice raising up in a desperate crescendo, trying to free herself from the steel cage. With her contorted body, she twisted and thrashed to no avail, digging deep the cruel bite of the cuffs into her skin. That metal sparkled like it was catching the light with a sinister radiance, almost seeming to taunt her with the cold, unyielding grip of reality. Her wrists seemed to have strained against the bindings, tendons standing out clearly as she struggled. As she fought against the handcuffs and began gasping more and mor
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VISHA’S POV About halfway through scaling the fence and reaching the top of the pole with my hands, I strained to boost myself up when I heard behind me the crunch of gravel footsteps. That sudden noise sent a bolt of dread surging through me, and I froze, fretting beneath the pumped rush of my heart. It left my mind blank with a complete psychological paralysis that made it difficult for me to think or even move. "I arrest you," he declared, his voice reverberating through the night, sounding almost like a funeral bell. This revitalized my stupor like splashes of cold water. Officer's words put in the air the formality of that situation. "Come down," they commanded him, sounding strenuous and authoritative in tone. There was that swell of reluctance, the unwillingness of my body to listen, but I knew I had no choice. I began easing myself down and letting the hands slip from the fence as I fell to the ground. Every footfall driving into the ground became deafeningly loud like som
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VISHA’S POV I was sitting in my office, lit only by the computer screen glimmering on my face as I awaited the emergence of this very message on my desktop. A rush of anxious happiness surged through me; my heart raced with expectancy. With a purpose that was near to mania, my fingers began to type as I opened the message that contained the address for the person we had chased for so long. I felt like an electrifying spark coursing through my body: it was time. Without hesitation, I activated working mode; execution took over—just like one hundred thousand times before. "Men!" I yelled to my team, sturdy and decisive, like a thunderclap in the office. My boys, all junior in rank to me, came flocking to my side in a state of excitement and anticipation. "Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" they said in chorus, almost kneeling before me. Expectation filled their eyes. I instructed them articulately and brief, my tone steady and calm. "Get the van ready, we need to arrest a suspect," I uttered. T
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ARROW’S POV I dialed Mr. Isah's line, my fingers seemingly having a mission of their own, as I anticipated his pick-up. I had known Mr. Isah since I was a boy and now a cop; I could always count on him for something: a source of counsel and support. The ringing gave me a major sense of relief. I was calling someone who might help. "Is he on yet?" Kalmia asked me, curious and worried. I nodded and kept my eyes glued to that phone, waiting for Mr. Isah to pick up. "Yes, my love; do not worry," I tried reassuring her that everything would work out. When Mr. Isah finally picked up, I cheerfully said, "Good day, Mr. Isah." "Good day, Arrow; how have you been?" came the deep and authoritative reply from the other end. I smiled; it had been a comforting voice through time. "Very well, sir," I answered, almost overacting in my calmness and composure. "Ah, that's good to hear; what do you need from me today?" was his cordial tone. I inhaled deeply to compose myself and start the reason for
