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The weight of Threat

Penulis: Mystical Pen
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-12-31 22:23:14

The apartment felt heavier than usual, the air thick with tension and unspoken fears. The kids were playing quietly in the living room, but I couldn’t relax. Every sound, every shadow, set my nerves on edge. The call from Sylvia earlier still lingered in my mind, her words sharp and venomous: a warning disguised as conversation, a threat cloaked in polite tones.

I sank onto the couch, running a hand over my forehead. Maya noticed my sudden stillness and crawled over, perching herself beside me. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

I forced a smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Nothing, sweetie. Just… thinking about work.”

She frowned, unconvinced. “Is it about Daddy? Or Gabriel?”

I hesitated, knowing the kids were perceptive enough to pick up more than I wanted them to. “It’s complicated, baby,” I said gently. “Sometimes adults have problems, but that doesn’t mean you have to worry. You’re safe. All of you.”

Milo tugged at my sleeve, his small voice uncertain. “Mom… is Sylvia going to hu
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  • Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns   Malling out

    Desmond’s POVThe right corridor swallowed me whole.The moment I stepped onto the ramp, the temperature dropped—cooler, damper, carrying the faint metallic scent of concrete that hadn’t seen daylight in years. The lights here were older, harsher, buzzing faintly overhead like they resented being woken up. My footsteps echoed louder than I liked, each one announcing me to whatever—or whoever—waited below.The alarm above grew distant as the ramp curved downward, replaced by a low, throbbing hum. Generators. Backup systems. This place was supposed to be dead. “Offline,” they’d called it. Nothing about the sound vibrating through my bones felt offline.My phone vibrated again.07:01No new message. Just the timer, glaring at me like an accusation.I broke into a run.The ramp leveled out into the underground garage, vast and dim, rows of concrete pillars stretching into shadows. Most of the spaces were empty, but not abandoned. Fresh tire marks cut across the dust. Footprints. Recent.T

  • Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns   Reflective Time

    Nine minutes isn’t time.It’s a weapon.The door closed behind Sienna with a soft, almost polite click, and the silence that followed felt engineered—too clean, too intentional. My instincts screamed at me to move, to chase her, to break every rule they’d set.Instead, I stood there, staring at the message glowing on my phone.Unknown Number: I can stop her. But you have to trust me.Trust.I’d built my entire life on never needing it.I glanced at my watch.08:41I moved.Not toward the door.Toward the wall.My hand slid along the cold surface until I found it—the faint seam, barely visible unless you knew where to look. I pressed my palm flat, pulse pounding, and waited.Nothing.I tried again, slower this time. A fraction of pressure more.The wall shifted.Just enough.Behind it, a narrow access panel slid open, revealing a dim corridor that wasn’t on any blueprint we’d ever approved. Sylvia’s handiwork, if I had to guess. She loved contingency plans that didn’t ask permission.M

  • Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns   Awakening

    Desmond’s POVThe feed froze on the front door.My heart slammed so hard it hurt.“Switch cameras,” I barked, already pulling my phone. No signal. Of course. Whoever planned this had thought of everything—layers upon layers of isolation, precision disguised as patience.Sienna was breathing too fast. I reached for her hand without looking, grounding both of us. “They’re not alone,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “Security protocol doesn’t fail that easily.”But even as I said it, the screen glitched again.The feed changed.Our youngest’s room.Empty.The bedspread rumpled. Curtains swaying slightly, as if someone had just passed through.Sienna made a sound—sharp, broken—but she didn’t cry. She straightened, spine rigid, eyes blazing with something far more dangerous than fear.“Open the door,” she said to the camera. To them.The familiar voice chuckled softly. “Still negotiating. That’s why you lose.”“Where are my children?” she demanded.A pause. Just long enough to be delib

  • Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns   Turbulence

    Desmond’s POVI didn’t sleep after that message.I lay there listening to the house breathe—air vents humming, distant traffic, the soft rhythm of Sienna’s breaths beside me—and catalogued every risk I’d ever underestimated. Sylvia wasn’t reckless. She was precise. Messages like that weren’t threats; they were timers.By morning, the city felt different. Quieter. Like it was holding its breath.At breakfast, the kids were their usual whirlwind—cereal spills, arguments over cartoons—but Sienna barely touched her coffee. I watched her from across the table, the way her fingers stayed curled around the mug, knuckles pale.“You’re cancelling the charity luncheon?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.She nodded. “And the interview. And the board dinner.”“That’s three appearances in forty-eight hours.”“Good,” she said. “Let it look sudden.”The housekeeper hovered nearby, pretending not to listen. I made a mental note. Everyone was a variable now.After the kids left with security, Sienna

  • Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns   Nicked

    Sienna’s POV The moment Desmond’s words settled between us, the house felt quieter than it had any right to be.Too quiet.The children’s laughter drifted in from the living room, bright and innocent, and it twisted something deep in my chest. They had no idea how close danger was circling us. No idea that their safety was being discussed like a chess move.I watched Desmond for a long second after he finished speaking, searching his face for hesitation. For doubt. For that familiar shadow of divided loyalty.But all I saw was resolve.It should’ve comforted me more than it did.“I want to believe you,” I said finally, pulling my hand from his gently, not angrily. “I really do. But belief isn’t what keeps us alive, Desmond. Preparation does.”His jaw tightened. “Then we prepare.”I nodded, stepping away to lean against the kitchen counter. My pulse was still racing, my mind replaying Sophia’s visit again and again—her measured tone, her polite smile, the sharp threat hidden beneath c

  • Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns   Resolving

    Desmond ‘s POV Her expression sharp, frustrated, and tired. My chest tightened. I could feel the tension radiating from her even before she spoke.“Desmond…” she started, her voice low but firm, “we need to be careful. Sylvia isn’t bluffing. And Sophia… she’s trying to interfere. She came here today to warn me to stay away from you.”I frowned, running a hand through my hair. “Sienna… Sophia was just… making sure everything stays smooth. You know how complicated things are in my world.”Her eyes narrowed, and I saw the hurt flicker across her face. “Smooth? She tried to manipulate me, Desmond! And you… you didn’t even defend me!”I sighed, knowing she was right, yet trying to explain myself. “Sienna… I didn’t ignore it. I just… I know how to handle it without escalating things. Sophia… she’s part of the bigger picture. She has responsibilities, obligations I can’t ignore. I’m not agreeing with her—I’m being realistic.”Her voice grew sharper. “Realistic? You mean you’re siding with h

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