Chapter Four: A Voicemail From No One

My eyes sprang open and I bolted upright with a sharp gasp.

A soft, cool cloth was immediately pressed against my forehead, followed by a steady hand holding my shoulder.

“Are you okay? You startled me,” a gentle voice said.

I blinked through the haze, my eyes swimming with unshed tears. The room was unfamiliar, and the face hovering over me was a blur.

“Who... who are you?” I rasped, my throat raw.

“I’m Cole’s personal assistant, Fabian,” he said smoothly. “I was sent to retrieve some files from his study when I heard a loud thud from your bathroom. You were wrapped in a towel on the floor and it looked like you fainted right after stepping out of the shower.”

I touched my temple, trying to piece together the fractured memories. The warm shower, the blinding headache, the sound of laughter echoing in my ears…

“I put a robe on you and brought you to bed,” Fabian explained, his voice laced with quiet concern. “I was in a hurry to get back to the office, but when I realized the day-shift staff had already gone home, I couldn't just leave you lying there.”

“You knew I was here?”

“Boss told me,” he replied with a warm, reassuring smile.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, studying him more closely. He didn't look like a typical assistant. He had a sharp jawline, intense grey eyes, and an effortless posture that felt almost out of place.

Snap out of it, Quinn, I chided myself. I couldn't afford to get distracted by a handsome face, not when I didn't even know who to trust.

“I brought you some clean clothes from the dryer,” Fabian said, gesturing to a folded pile on the bedside table. “It’s the least I could do before heading out.”

“When did you start working for Cole?” I asked, keeping my tone guarded.

“Just last month,” he answered easily. “Since you’re awake and resting now, I should head to the office. But if you ever need help with anything... let me know.”

He gave a polite bow and stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him.

I sank back against the pillows, his parting words echoing in my head. If you ever need help... It was the only genuinely kind interaction I’d had since leaving the hospital. But was he actually trying to help, or was he just another player in whatever game Cole and Kira were running?

My stomach growled violently, snapping me back to reality. I hadn't eaten a real meal all day.

I threw off the covers, slipped into the clean clothes Fabian had left, and ventured out into the dark hallway.

The house was dead silent. With the housekeepers gone for the evening, the grand estate felt less like a home and more like an empty, echoing tomb. I navigated down to the kitchen, but every pot on the stove was scrubbed clean, and the cupboards were locked shut. I opened the massive stainless-steel fridge, only to find rows of raw vegetables and unopened bottled water.

I let out a frustrated sigh. It wasn't much, but it was better than starving.

I pulled out a handful of vegetables, grabbed a knife from the block, and spent the next hour chopping them up to make a simple stir-fry. I ate slowly at the kitchen island, staring out into the dark yard as I tried to process everything that had happened today.

Once I finished eating and washed my plate, the house felt even colder and quieter than before.

Curiosity tugged at me as I looked toward the grand staircase. If I was going to figure out who I was before the accident, I needed to look around.

I climbed the stairs, testing the doorknobs along the corridor. Almost every room was locked tight, except for one at the very end of the hall.

I pushed the door open. A sudden, overwhelming sense of familiarity hit me like a physical weight. This was my room.

I stepped inside, scanning the space for anything that might spark a memory. On the vanity table, a framed photo sat face down. I picked it up and turned it over. It was a picture of me and Kira, both of us smiling bright for the camera.

I stared at it, a strange knot forming in my chest. Something about the lighting was off. I turned the frame around, popped open the backing, and pulled the print out.

My breath hitched.

It wasn't a single photograph. It was two separate pictures… one of me, one of Kira, cut down the middle and carefully taped together inside the frame to look like we were standing side by side.

A sharp corner of the broken glass sliced into the palm of my hand. Pain flared, and blood circled around the cut, but I was too engrossed, to care for it. My mind was racing. Were we ever friends? Almost everything doesn't feel right about our friendship.

“You are still up?”

Cole’s deep voice cut through the darkness from the doorway, making me jump.

I instinctively squeezed my hand into a fist, hiding the bleeding palm behind my back. Cole stood in the doorway, his silhouette imposing in the dim light. His suit jacket was off, his tie loosened, his dark eyes tracking my every movement.

“I was just looking around,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. " I didn't realise it was already late."

Cole stared at me for a long, heavy moment. His expression was unreadable, but the harshness from earlier had settled into a tired, solemn distance.

“Yes,” he said softly, his voice devoid of anger, though a tired distance lingered in his eyes. He didn't notice the blood on my hand or the mess on the vanity. “It’s late, Quinn. You should turn off the lights and go to sleep.”

“I will,” I replied quietly.

He lingered for a second longer, his gaze dropping to the floor near my feet before he turned and walked back down the hall toward his own quarters.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. Glad he didn't notice the frame, I thought, leaning against the vanity to steady my racing heart.

As I shifted, my knee knocked against a bottom drawer that was sitting slightly ajar. Inside lay a sleek, black smartphone.

I picked it up with my clean hand. The screen was cracked, but when I pressed the power button, the display flickered to life. There was a single unread voicemail notification sitting on the screen.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I pressed play.

A wave of loud, static noise burst from the speaker, followed by a heavily distorted, metallic voice that sent a chill straight down my spine:

“This... is... all... your... fault, Quinn. You never belonged in his world.”

The eerie voice echoed off the walls of the empty room. Terror seized my chest, and I dropped the phone onto the floor, staring at the glowing screen in sheer horror as the line went dead.