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CHAPTER ELEVEN: Fragments of hope
Last Updated:
2024-12-12 21:41:28
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Angelo entered the parking lot, his footsteps clinking in shiny shoes. His eyes darted around, his face tense beneath furrowed brows as he muttered, “Where is she?”He scanned the rows of cars, turning to this side and that, his every movement a manifestation of frustration. Just as he turned to leave, a voice checked his steps.“Angelo?”He froze and turned slowly, relief washing over his face when he saw her. “Mia.” He exhaled deeply, the tension melting from his shoulders. “I’ve actually been looking for you.”Mia tilted her head, surprised. “Really?”He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I heard you applied for the position of secretary here.”She paused, pushing a strand of her chestnut-brown wig behind her ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said softly.“Come on, Mia,” Angelo said, a slight edge of hurt in his voice. “I thought we were friends. Aren’t we?”Mia’s eyes dropped to the floor, her conscience pul
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The tension in the beach house felt like it had a pulse of its own.Zac scoffed, stepping back. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What the fuck are you even saying?”“You know exactly what I’m saying,” Angelo didn’t flinch. “You dragged her into your world.”“My world?” Zac’s voice rose. “Wait—are you blaming me for this? For that video?”“Of course I have every right to blame you!” Angelo snapped, stepping closer. “Ever since you made her sign that damn contract, she hasn’t had a single moment of peace.”Zac’s expression twisted, his fists flexing at his sides. But Angelo didn’t stop.“She never wanted this life.” Angelo shrugged, spreading his arms. “And now—look at her—caught in this bullshit again.”“You know nothing, Angelo,” Zac retorted, his voice low. “I didn’t know things would be like this. I’ve always protected her, and I still will.”“Ha-ha-ha. How heroic,” Angelo replied, his tone taunting. “Because every time she needs you… you’re not there.”“Well, I’m here now.
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By the time Angelo got to the tech corner behind the stage, Jonathan was already there—his face red with panic. He was yelling at the tech crew, who were hunched over a console blinking with error lights. “Take it down!” Jonathan barked. “Get the damn video off the screen! Now!” “We’re trying, sir!” one of the tech guys snapped, fingers flying over the keyboard. “It’s not responding—system error keeps flashing. It’s like a virus or something, an override! The damn thing won’t shut down!” Jonathan cursed, then stepped back with wild eyes. He grabbed a thick cord running to the display hub. He yanked at the wires, pulling one loose. A small spark flew, and the large screen in the main hall went dark. A collective gasp echoed from the hall, but the damage had already been done. An alarm started to wail in the distance—soft at first, then louder. Security teams moved in with accuracy, their earpieces crackling. VIP guests were already being ushered out a side exit, leaving the
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