Chapter one:The perfect Time

The statement on the screen was straightforward, almost overly basic. A terrifying warning on a number she didn't recognize:

"Don’t go to CrossCorp today."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she froze, staring at the mysterious lettering with narrowed eyes. The message felt too weird to reply to, yet her hand lingered over the reply. After all, even in the digital realm, living in Las Vegas means putting up with a lot of noise and mayhem, so it might be spam or a practical joke.

Mimi shook her head, pushed the phone away, and concentrated on the plans she and Simeon had made. It was meant to be different today. Despite everything that had slipped through their fingers in recent months, today was meant to remind James of what really mattered—the family they had created together. It would be just the two of them, a low-key meal, and perhaps a bit too much champagne. An ideal approach to honor the man who had once given her a sense of importance.

She sighed and flung the phone onto the bed, its screen lighting up with another unread message. She got up and gathered herself for the day. She would not allow this to derail her plan, whatever it was.

She was staring back at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Today, she needed to look flawless. She experienced a mixture of remorse and anticipation, the old, familiar nervousness. This birthday would be remembered because of her.

However, she couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was seriously off as she turned to face the door. Already, something was falling apart. The quiet scribbling of crayon on paper, the gentle whoosh of the heating system, and the steady throb of her pulse beneath her skin, however, were enough to tell her.

Their seven-year-old son, Simeon, was sitting on the kitchen floor with a bright red crayon in his little fingers. He was engrossed in the straightforward activity of drawing. His little calligraphy was scribbled in shaky characters on the front of the innocent-looking card he was working on, but it was nonetheless full with meaning. He gazed up at her, his large brown eyes meeting hers with an age-old knowledge.

"Daddy, happy birthday! We cherish you! His juvenile handwriting was read on the card. Mimi's heart became constricted. The simplicity and purity of the words struck a deeper chord than before. It was meant to be a special day. It had to be for her. For him. For her.

She smiled slightly as she sat next to him. She tenderly tucked his soft hair behind his ear with her palm. She signed to him, "That’s beautiful, Simeon," her hands flowing naturally through the motions she had perfected over the years. "You know your daddy will love it."

Simeon simply nodded and went back to work without saying anything. His quiet was similar to hers, content but with a hint of melancholy. The distance between their dreams and reality was getting larger every day.

Mimi went over the card once more, running her fingertips over the text. Was it too late? Could this actually be fixed? Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle vibration on her phone, reminding her of the message that was still pending response.

Her fingertips lingered over the phone's screen as she paused. For a brief while, however, she allowed herself to accept the lie she had told herself—that everything would be alright—and returned her focus to Simeon's sketch. With ritualistic calm, the morning unfolded as it always did. Gathering her belongings, getting ready, and taking one last look at her reflection, Mimi went through the motions with a practiced grace. She had taken great care in her attire, selecting a sleek, basic black dress that highlighted her dark hair and accentuated her little frame. The dress she wore when she tried to fit in with a world she didn't entirely belong to was her armor

. Simeon was standing next to her, his gift for James in his hands, the card scrawled in crayon barely concealed by the crumpled wrapping paper. The nagging feeling that something was slipping through Mimi's fingers made her heart soften, yet it was still heavy.

Mimi hesitated as they moved toward the door, looking back at the home. Long shadows were created on the marble floors by the sunshine streaming through the windows. It wasn't a serene scene as it should have been.

The family portrait on the wall caught her attention. The glass wasn't broken, but the frame was. It was James's face, with a jagged line through it distorting the once-bright smile. As she took a step closer, her breath caught. A metaphor of everything that had gone wrong, the crack went right through his eyes, through the vision she had once treasured. The image was shattered in a way that seemed intimate, not merely damaged. That seemed definitive.

"Mom?" Her mental haze was broken by Simeon's tiny voice. "We must leave. Daddy is going to be there.

Mimi blinked, dismissing the idea. Her gaze lingered on the crack one final time before she straightened up and followed her son. Mimi could feel the weight of that crack in her chest; the image of their ideal family had been destroyed. Already, this day, this birthday, was different. As she drove through the sun-dappled streets of Las Vegas, Mimi's fingers clenched around the steering wheel, her mind still jumbled with the odd message from the morning. She made an effort to get rid of the uneasiness that was beginning to creep into her chest, but it persisted like an unavoidable shadow. Sitting calmly in the backseat, Simeon was engrossed in his sketching and blissfully oblivious to the anxiety that was beginning to seep into the atmosphere.

Everything was painted in golden tones by the early light that flickered through the glass, but the cozy familiarity of her neighborhood felt far away. She noticed a sleek black automobile in her rearview mirror as she turned into the main roadway that headed to CrossCorp Tower. She didn't give it much thought at first because traffic in Las Vegas had a way of making everything seem like a pursuit. However, the automobile stayed behind her, its headlights steady but dim, as the minutes went by.

Her pulse accelerated. The automobile hadn't faltered, but she wasn't one to make snap judgments. Two lanes back, it was still there, moving with eerie accuracy. Mimi looked in the rearview mirror once more as her breath stuck in her throat. Now the black automobile was nearer. Her thoughts were racing. Was it pursuing her? It must have happened by accident. It must have been. However, she felt exposed and vulnerable because of the way the car seemed to move with her. As she slowed, ready to turn, her gaze shifted between the road ahead and the rearview mirror, the outside world moving in fast-forward.

She abruptly turned the driving wheel, swerving down a side street that would lead her to a new destination. A rapid choice, a sharp corner. However, the black automobile trailed after, its headlights shining in the rearview mirror like twin eyes. Her stomach grew constricted. The car's engine roared to life beneath her as she pushed the throttle pedal harder. It was no longer merely a coincidence. It was real, whatever it was. It was also refusing to let her go.

For a second, Mimi thought her heart may stop as she was shocked by the sudden vibration of her phone in the cup holder. The uneasiness tightened like a vice in her chest as she reached down to grab it. In the mirror, the black automobile remained a constant presence. Another message appeared on the phone, its wording straightforward but icy.

"Swivel. There is yet time.

She gasped. She ought to have disregarded the initial message and allowed it to disappear into thin air. Now, though? It was more than a warning now. It was an order. As Mimi held the phone up and stared at the words that appeared to sear into her eyes, her fingers shook.

She took another look in the rearview mirror. The black automobile remained, now too near for comfort. In the distance, the driver was a faceless phantom concealed behind the tinted windows. The car was more than just a transportation, though. Silent and patient, it stalked her through the quiet neighborhoods like a predator. It was a threat.

She tightened her grasp on the steering wheel, her palms slicked with perspiration. What on earth was going on? It was the coldest the city has ever been. With her heart thumping in her ears, Mimi bit her lip. Must she go back? Is she supposed to pay attention? To what, though? Was this a simple practical joke, or was there more to it?

Her thoughts strayed to James, the celebration she had organized for him, and the flimsy hope that perhaps—just possibly—today would be the day that things began to get better. She needed to concentrate on the strategy. She couldn't allow it to be ruined by this, whatever it was.

But Mimi felt the walls closing in as the automobile drew closer behind her. The car's air became oppressively heavy. And her heart skipped a beat when she looked in the rearview mirror again. No longer was the dark automobile two lanes behind. It was very near, directly behind her. She was being completely engulfed by the shadows cast by its headlights. With her heart thumping so loudly that she could hardly hear herself, she muttered, "What the hell is happening?"