Ninety-Nine Missed Calls

With a loud boom, another blast rocked the area, and I was thrown back from the fiery scene I had tried to enter. My ears rang so loudly that it felt like my head would split.

"Mom! Mom, where are you?"

Ignoring the pain all over, I pushed through the burning wood chips on the ground, crawling desperately further in.

Then, a bunch of black cars came speeding in.

Vincent Porter stepped out, his expression stormy. He saw my bloody hands, and his eyebrows knitted together. He reached out a hand almost without thinking.

"Alice, you—"

Right then, a high-pitched scream cut him off.

Jenny Thorne was hiding behind Vincent, gripping his shirt like a scared rabbit. "Oh my goodness, such a huge fire... Alice, stop this act."

She clutched her chest, tears swimming in her eyes. "I just saw Mrs. Hoffman at the coffee shop this morning. How could she suddenly be kidnapped? You're going too far... Vincent was only with me for a manicure, and you've caused such a scene. What if someone innocent gets hurt?"

Vincent's hand, about to reach for me, stopped in mid-air. In an instant, any concern he had turned to ice, then to disgust. He looked down at me with disdain.

"Alice! Did you really blow up my warehouse just to make me come back? Do you realize how much attention this will bring from the police? You're acting crazy!"

I pointed toward the middle of the rubble, tears mixing with the soot on my face. My voice came out raspy. "My mom's in there… Vincent, you're the one who killed her... It was you..."

Vincent sneered, "You're still pretending. Are you really cursing me out of jealousy?"

The disappointment in his eyes felt like a knife cutting through me.

"Since you're so fond of playing with fire, you can stay right here and watch it burn. You can come back only when the fire is completely out."

The wail of police sirens grew louder.

Vincent really disliked dealing with cops. He took Jenny's hand and they quickly walked to their car.

"We're leaving. She can stay and explain things to the cops herself."

With that order, he slammed the car door shut.

The cars zoomed off, leaving nothing but dust behind.

I fell to the ground, staring at the raging fire that had swallowed everything. I gripped a burnt silver necklace in my hand, the only thing I had left of Mom.

Then, the rain started pouring down. It stung my burned, torn skin with a pain that went straight to the bone.

I had lost too much blood and could not stay awake any longer. I passed out.

…

When I woke up in the rubble the next morning, two strong hands like iron clamps picked me up. They were Vincent's personal guards. They threw me into the trunk like I was nothing more than trash.

The ride was rough. My stomach felt like it was being turned inside out.

Finally, the car stopped. They dragged me by my hair into the hall.

Dozens of men were there, looking at me like I was garbage.

"She's the one who blew up the warehouse to get attention."

"She's heartless. Who would want her?"

They threw me onto the marble floor of the punishment hall. I was caked in dried blood and mud, the smell of charcoal lingering all over me.

Vincent looked down at me from his high place. "I took care of the cops for you. But you went too far this time."

Jenny sat next to him with an ice pack on her forehead, looking pretty and healthy. I knew she was just pretending to have a headache.

"You know Jenny hates explosions, but you blew up my warehouse and scared her last night. The mafia has rules, and you have to pay for what you did."

Vincent's voice was icy as he gave the order, "Down."