LOGINThora's POV
Scandal
I was at the kitchen counter, the drizzling of the water from the tap sending chills down my spine.
The DNA results were out. The doctor had called me to come pick it up. I still hate the fact that I'm doing this.
I hope it's not what I'm thinking.
“Avis? Honey? Time to go…”
She didn't answer, very unusual.
Hmm.
“Avis?! Where are you baby?”
What's going on?
“Avis!”
I headed to the living room and still couldn't find her.
My head turned haywire.
“Avis!! Avis!!!”
No, come out. This is a joke. I can't lose my baby girl. No, I can't.
Wait, just calm down. She's playing hide and seek with you. Nothing's happened. Calm down.
I took a deep breath and called her softly.
“Avis? Where are you?”
My voice grew sharper and louder in frustration.
“Avis!!!!”
I flung the front door open and froze.
No, it can't be. No, my baby. Avis, please, don't do this to me.
Comeback to momma…
I couldn't find her.
No!!!
I burst into tears when I found a letter laying on the doormat.
Immediately, I grabbed it and struggled to open it, my hands trembling.
“If you want her back, come alone. Dockyard Warehouse. Midnight.”
No signature, no threats, just clear implications.
Quentin!!!! You bastard!!!
I paced endlessly in the house, like my head was shattered. I don't know what to do.
Like… why this…
Quentin, I swear I'll kill you.
However, an idea popped into my head…
Later that afternoon. I sat alone, patiently waiting for the night to come.
My phone rang. It was Luke.
I didn't want to pick up the call. He had promised to take Avis to get ice cream today. Now this…
Shit!
“Hello…”
“Is she home?” He asked, his voice calm.
“No…”
I tossed the phone away and buried my face in the pillow and poured out my tears.
Finally, the annoying and long awaited night came. I stepped into the abandoned warehouse, my legs trembling with every creaking step.
No backup, no police, no like, just me.
The silly bastard stood right there in the center, he held Avis tightly on one arm. In the other, he held some documents.
“You made it. Still predictable.” He scoffed.
“Just hand her over to me. Stop playing around. What do you want?” I cried.
“Mommy…” she called, but he gagged her mouth with his filthy palm.
“Baby, it's okay.” Tears rolled down my cheek. “Just be calm. It's alright. Mommy's here now.” I assured as if I could do anything.
“I'm scared…” she mumbled in his palm.
“It’s okay baby. I'm here now.”
I comforted, my voice quivering.
I wish he'll just let me hold her. I feel faint now. I swear, I'll deal with him after this.
“Alright, let's get this over with.” He smiled.
“Hand her to me.” I warned, my breath trembling.
“Nah, not so first. You have to sign this first.”
He tossed the papers over to me.
I picked it up slowly, my eyes not letting go of the devil in the dark.
“What's this? What has come over you?”
“You declare, legally, that Avis is mine. Sole custody. No Luke. No more court. Or you don’t get her back.”
Instead of answering me, he's busy speaking this gibberish. I'll kill him! I swear!
“You’ve lost your mind. You're insane.” I cursed.
“No. I’m a father. And you're swearing in front of the kid.”
“You’re a joke. So it has gotten to this right?”
He pushed a pen towards me and rose to his feet, still clinging on to the wincing and scared Avis. I wish he hadn't brought her into all of this, but well, what can I do, he did after all.
Silly bastard!
“Sign it, Thora. Or say goodbye to her forever.” He warned, his voice echoing across the empty space, showing how empty his big head was.
However, I don't flinch. My voice remained calm… I'm ready for him. He's just a crazy bitch. He's a fool to think I'll sign that document or I'll beg him.
Oh Quentin, please I'm sorry… I'll come back to you… blah blah blah.
He's such a funny jerk.
“You think I came here to beg?” I smiled.
I removed a small mic from inside my blouse and threw it at his feet.
“I came here to record and I've gotten just what I want. You can crush it, but it's not going to change anything.” My words were nothing but pain to him, just the same way he'd caused me so much pain over time. I slowly said them so he'd feel the impact of each one. It needs to hit his bones.
His face dropped, his hand trembling in fear. I felt his heart race, he screamed in frustration.
************************************
Earlier today, after I dropped my call with Luke the first time, I called him back and explained everything that happened and he came to my house immediately. I couldn't lie to him, it freaked me out.
“If he contacts me, I’m going. Alone.” I explained. I was determined to do anything for her.
“You can’t. It’s too risky.”
“I’m not asking permission. Just be ready.” I scoffed. He doesn't understand the pressure I'm going through right now, if only he did.
“Look at me.” He held my cheek and our gaze locked on each other.
“It's going to be alright.”
I squeezed his hands softly and took it away from my cheek and folded a spare key into it.
“Send your best guard. I’ll keep him talking. We’ll catch him in the act. I have to do it. It's our best shot.”
I must get my baby girl.
**********************************
I smiled at the scared cat fidgeting right in front of me. My mind replayed a few minutes ago, when he was exercising his power. He's such a fool. Up till now, he's still senseless.
“You just confessed to blackmail and kidnapping on tape.” I smirked and clapped for him.
“Well done, Quentin.”
“Fuck you!” He cursed and kicked his legs in the air.
Footsteps approached behind us. It was not one person, I heard another. It was dark, I didn't see who the other was.
One of Luke's guards stepped out of the shadows, his gun drawn and cocked.
“Drop the weapon. Let go of the girl.”
Fear enveloped him and he tightened his arm around her neck and brought out a gun. His expression darkened into the beast he was as he waved his gun at us and also pointed on her head.
I felt her fear, the poor girl closed her eyes in sorrow.
“No! No one should come any closer or I'll kill her and I'll kill myself after.”
“I said drop it!” The guard warned.
Now I realized he was crazy, like he's serious.
Oh no, my baby…
“If I can’t have her, no one can.”
“Quentin, please… no…”
He stretched his hand but the guard reacted.
A gunshot exploded in the air.
The concrete was covered in blood.
Avis screamed in pain as she fell in the pool of blood.
I lunged forward, struggling to move, but the dust, the pain, the panic, the silence, it all held me back.
Sirens howled in the distance. The blue and red flickering lights filled the cracks in the walls.
Quentin… you shot… my… him… her…
My world crumbled…
Thora’s POV The noise began even earlier than I was awake. Not the common reporters screaming in the street--this was more to the point. My cell-phone continued buzzing on the nightstand until it dropped on the ground. The screen was illuminated with the name of Cara: CALL ME NOW. My stomach sank. I sat up, and my heart already racing, and the heavy ache of dread crawling under my skin. Her voice was quick and monotonic, as lawyers have when they are attempting never to panic. Please do not open your email, do not check the social media. Just—listen.” “What happened?” “There’s a leak. Photos of you at an out-patient clinic last month. The story is already all around. “What narrative?” The reason you were there was a breakdown. There are stores which are claiming that it is substance based. One’s hinting self-harm.” I went silent. The image of that occasion came back, the little clinic, the 30-minute visit, the check-up of the pregnancy. I had come early so I could get
Luke’s POVThe text kept replaying in my head.Tell her the next one’s mine.It didn’t matter how many times I read it—three words, eight letters of threat—and I could hear Quentin saying them. Calm, certain, the way he used to announce a business merger.I ought to have been frank with Thora. I just had a feeling that maybe it was a mind game, a bluff. The other part knew better.I was sitting in my car, outside my office, with my hands around my steering wheel, the engine off. The wind-glass was falling down the rain in long fine hair. The whole city appeared to be on tenterhooks.My phone buzzed again—Cara’s assistant. I ignored it. I’d already learned that whoever touched Thora’s case ended up under Quentin’s microscope. I had to know the depth of that microscope.Inside, my office still smelled faintly of varnish and old coffee. The receptionist waved; I nodded without stopping. My desk light glowed over a stack of contracts I hadn’t touched in days. None of it mattered now.I to
The following morning was different. It was still the gray and weary city, yet the sounds outside my window could not be heard as sharp. Perhaps the reporters were tired, or perhaps I had lost the hearing. Anyhow, all was quietness, and it was like breathing space, the first in weeks. Before noon Mark Leland told him that he would be here. I half-expected him not to. People had made promises previously, people who had more to lose and less to care. But just before eleven I heard a knock--two quick strokes, and then one more, quiet and unmistakably certain. On opening the door, he was standing in a maintenance uniform, hat in his hands, nervous, yet firm. Late forties perhaps, the type of man you would run by every day and never pay any attention to yet there was something kind about his eyes, the kind that looked directly at you rather than to the side. “Ms. Greenwood,” he said, nodding. “Mark Leland. From Vexler. I, uh, called last night.” “I remember.” I stepped aside. “Co
Thora’s POVBy the time I got on to the steps of the courthouse the air was already buzzing. Sidestreet reporters were lined up, and the microphones looked like guns. Flashes of the camera were so brilliant that they blurred the morning into a white haze.“Ms. Greenwood, do you think you’re losing?” “Any comment on your witnesses backing out?” “ Do you fear meeting Quentin Palmer in court?Their voices mangled on one, ugly note. I kept walking. Eyes forward. Clenching my hands on the folder which contained the rest of my evidence. The courthouse was dusty and paper-smoking. My heartbeat was drowned in the humming of the fluorescent lights. At the metal detector, I was met by my lawyer, Cara, who was sharp, but kind. “You ready?” she asked. “No,” I said honestly. She smiled faintly. “Good. They claim they will never live to see the first day. We forced our way along the passage. Each door that we went through had echoes--it is the fights of other people, it is other grievi
Thora’s POVThe first call came just after breakfast.I was still helping Avis get ready for school cardigan when my phone buzzed across the counter. I didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was local, so I answered.“Ms. Greenwood? This is Dr. Patel’s office.”My chest lifted, hopeful. “Yes, hi, thank you for calling back. I just wanted to confirm—”“I’m sorry,” the receptionist interrupted, voice clipped and rehearsed. “The doctor has decided he can’t provide written testimony or appear in court. It’s a matter of clinic policy.”“Clinic policy?” I repeated. “He’s written a dozen statements for custody cases. I, I only need a letter confirming my daughter’s regular checkups.”“I understand,” she said, not unkindly. “But Dr. Patel won’t be able to assist further.”Click.The line went dead.I stood there holding the phone like it was something fragile I’d just dropped. Avis tugged my sleeve. “Mama? We’ll be late.”“Right,” I whispered, forcing a smile. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
Quentin’s POVMost people think destruction comes with fire or fists. They’re wrong.The real art is in pressure. Gentle, steady, constant — like water finding cracks in stone until the whole wall collapses. That’s how you break someone. That’s how you break Thora.And that’s exactly what I was doing.The first brick I pulled was Dr. Patel. The man had seen Avis since she was a baby, had charts and notes that painted Thora as nothing but careful, attentive, responsible. If he testified for her, it would look ironclad. Judges loved pediatricians — “neutral professionals,” as lawyers called them.But neutrality was a myth. Everyone had pressure points.I waited outside his office that morning, my car idling across the street. Patel emerged looking haggard, his phone glued to his ear, his other hand raking through thinning hair. I cracked the window, just enough to catch his words.“…No, I don’t want to be dragged into this. Of course I care about the child, but this—this is a custody wa







