Love me back to life

Upstairs at the Restaurant "Boss, that's what I've been trying to tell you," Nate said. Mateo looked past him at the stage. A young woman was singing, and the whole room was watching her. "Who is that?" Mateo asked. "What happened to the singer we booked?" "Her manager called. They were robbed on the way here." "Robbed? Come on, Nate." "I'm serious. It's already all over social media." Nate reached for his phone to show him, but before he could, Wayne grabbed Mateo from behind and hugged him hard. "Mat, I am emotional right now." Wayne let go and pointed at the stage. "Have you heard her? Who is she?" Mateo looked at Nate. "Yes. Who is she?" "Her name is Mirabella," Nate said. "She's one of the new hires. When the singer's manager called to cancel, she offered to step in." "Mirabella," Wayne repeated, like he was tasting the name. "Beautiful voice. Beautiful everything, actually—" "Did anyone even hear her sing before you put her on that stage?" Mateo cut in, looking at Nate

The Police Station, Just Before 4:47 a.m. The officer at the front desk barely looked up as Mirabella and Ava approached the counter, exhausted, their voices worn thin from hours of calling Anita's name through the streets. "We need to report a missing person," Ava said. "A woman. Older. Partially blind, and she can't speak." "Name?" "Anita," Mirabella said. "Please, she's been missing since last night. We've looked everywhere." The officer wrote slowly, unhurried, and Mirabella felt her patience crack. "Can someone please come and help us look? She can't see well in the dark. She could be anywhere." "We'll send a car out at first light, miss." "First light? That could be hours from now!" "Miss, we have limited units on night patrol. I understand you're worried, but we can't search the whole city on a hunch." "She's not a hunch, she's my mother." Mirabella's voice cracked. Ava put a hand on her back. "Bella. Let's give them the details and keep looking ourselves. We're not g

Mateo's Office Mirabella turned back. Mateo was still watching her, and something about his expression made her uneasy. "The hardest decisions in life," he said quietly, "are usually the right ones." She wasn't sure what he meant. His words sounded like advice, but his face looked like something else entirely — she just couldn't tell what. She nodded, gave him a small smile, and left before he could say anything more. The Hallway Her mind was still spinning from the conversation — from the way he'd looked at her — when she walked straight into someone. "Whoa," she said, before she even looked up. "Sorry! Are you okay?" the stranger asked. She lifted her head and lost her train of thought completely. He's beautiful. His hair was dark and curly. His eyelashes were long. His skin was perfect. For one confused second she thought she'd bumped into a woman — until she heard his voice again. "Are you okay, ma'am?" "I'm... fine. Just a little sick," she said, though she had no ide

Wayne's Room, Later That Night Wayne couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the man screaming downstairs. He thought about his own childhood — years of boarding schools, a mother who was rarely home, a stepfather he'd hated since he was old enough to understand what hate was. He used to think his mother stayed away from him to protect him from something. Now he wondered if it was the opposite — if she was protecting him from finding out what Milord really was. Around five in the morning, he heard footsteps and a car pulling away. He looked out the window and saw Milord leaving with his driver. Good. One down. Forty minutes later, he heard another car. Queen. Now I have the house to myself. For a while, at least. He knew exactly where he wanted to go — Milord's private study. A hidden room behind it that Wayne had discovered as a child, back when Milord had once dragged him inside and threatened to throw him and his mother out on the street if he ever told anyone

Mirabella's Room, The Next Day Her phone woke her up, buzzing under her pillow. She answered without checking who it was. "Hello?" "Good afternoon, Mirabella." "Afternoon?" She sat up and checked the time. 12:13 p.m. "Oh no—" "It's Tyson," the voice said. Her face changed instantly. "What do you want? How did you even get my number?" "Please, just listen. I'm sorry." "Sorry doesn't cut it. Don't call me again." "Wait — Mira, please. I need a favor." "You're calling to ask me for a favor?" "Just once, please. Your boyfriend—" "My what?" "I need you to tell him I called to apologize. Tell him I'll never bother you again. I promise, Mirabella. Never again." She'd never heard him sound scared before. Not once, in all their years of history. "What did he do to you?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity. "Nothing. Just — please, tell him I said sorry." "Fine, Tyson. It's forgotten." "You're sure?" "I'm sure. Just make sure I don't hear from you again." She hung up and