Delilah quickly got ready, then headed downstairs to start cooking. She tied her hair up and hummed a tune as she mixed the soft dough for homemade pasta. The kitchen felt cozy and smelled delicious from the fresh ingredients she'd prepared.The stand mixer whirred beside her, spinning the dough hook with ease. She smiled, wiping flour off her cheek with the back of her hand, completely unaware of the faint hissing sound coming from the gas pipe beneath the counter.As she reached for the next ingredient, a small spark from the mixer shot out unexpectedly. "What theā?" Delilah started, but her words were cut short.In an instant, the spark connected with the gas building up in the kitchen.The explosion was deafening. A rush of fire and heat erupted, engulfing the room. Delilah screamed as her right hand caught the flames, the pain searing and unbearable. The force of the blast threw her backward; her head struck the hard floor. Everything blurred, her senses overwhelmed by the
Delilah entered Shh⦠CafĆ© with her usual grace, the black bag slung casually over her shoulder. The bustling cafĆ© smelled of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries, blending seamlessly with the cheerful chatter of customers. Ruby and Helen greeted her warmly, their voices carrying over the hum of activity."Morning, Delilah!" Ruby called out, balancing a tray of cappuccinos.Helen waved briefly, busy stacking freshly baked croissants on the display. "Hey, boss!"Delilah offered her usual smile. "Good morning, ladies," she said, her voice light but firm, as she headed straight to her office.Once inside, she placed the black bag carefully on her desk and muttered to herself, "Iāll return this to the hidden room once the customers leave." With ease, she opened the safe hidden behind a discreet wooden panel on the wall and slid the bag inside. Closing it securely, she allowed herself a small, satisfied smile before returning to the cafĆ© floor.---Ruby was at the counter, fr
The restaurantās dim lighting cast a warm glow over the polished wooden furniture, and the gentle hum of conversation filled the air as Marco stepped inside. His sharp eyes scanned the room, settling on a blonde-haired man seated near the corner. Marcoās lips curved into a faint smile. There was no mistaking himāTristan.Without hesitation, Marco crossed the room. As he approached, Tristan glanced up, their eyes locking in a moment of recognition. Tristanās face lit up with a wide grin, and he stood to greet his old friend."Marco! Great to see you, buddy!" Tristanās voice carried a warmth that seemed to cut through the slight chill of the restaurantās air.Marco extended his hand, his own smile growing broader. "Tristan! Itās been too long, man," he replied, shaking Tristanās hand firmly and pulling him in for a friendly clap on the back."Way too long," Tristan agreed as they both sat down. "Howāve you been? Still running the family empire, I assume?"Marco chuckled, signaling a
Delilahās heart raced, but she managed to keep her expression neutral. "What would I even have to hide?"Marco's expression remained neutral, but his eyes held a hint of knowing. "I donāt know. Youāve been acting strange lately."She shrugged, forcing a playful edge to her voice. "Strange how?""Strange like you have secrets," he said, his gaze sharp now, pinning her in place.Delilah swallowed hard, her lips parting as if to respond, but the words wouldnāt come. Marcoās hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle but firm."If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you," he murmured, his voice softer now. Her heart ached at his words, but she couldnāt let herself be swayed. Not when so much was at stake. She forced a smile, placing her hand over his. "Itās nothing, Marco... I promise."He studied her for a long moment before finally nodding. "Alright," he said, though his tone suggested he wasnāt entirely convinced. "But if you ever want to talk about
Delilahās heart raced, the gravity of the situation pressing down on her. She grabbed the black bag from the ground, tossed her heels inside, and took off, her bare feet making soft crunching sounds against the grass as she sprinted. She zigzagged through the darkened outskirts, her movements swift and purposeful. She had planned this route carefully.When she reached the street, Delilah pulled off her mask and shoved it into her black bag. Then, she frantically waved her arms at the first cab that appeared. The yellow car screeched to a halt, its driver rolling down the window. He was a middle-aged man with a skeptical expression, his brows creased as he eyed her dark clothes and the bag slung over her shoulder."Where to?" he asked, his voice rough.She blurted out Marcoās mansion location, throwing herself into the backseat and slamming the door. "Now. Fast."The man hesitated, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. "You in trouble or something?""Just drive!" she snappe
Delilah tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes beneath the mask. "Do I look like Iām in need of money?" Her voice was low, carrying a sharp edge that made Michaelās throat go dry."No⦠no," Michael quickly replied, his words stumbling over one another. "Iām just saying⦠just in case."Delilahās silence unsettled him, her firm gaze slicing through his pathetic attempts at bargaining. Michael noticed a faint calmness in her demeanor, a silence that gave him a sliver of hope."Iāll give you any amount," he blurted out, desperation dripping from every syllable. "Any amount, just mention it."Delilah stepped back, letting out a soft laugh that carried no humor. "I donāt need your money," she replied, her voice steady. "I have about ninety-nine million dollars saved from jobs like thisāexecuting monsters like you."Michaelās eyes widened, his jaw slack. "But⦠what would you gain by killing me now?" His tone was pleading, as if clinging to some imaginary lifeline.Delilah raised her a
Michaelās eyes darted between the gun in Delilahās hand and her cool, firm expression. The sleek, black metal gleamed under the dim light of the bedroom, and the realization hit him like a brick: it was real.His throat tightened as he imagined her pulling the trigger, and his body felt heavier, his carefully constructed world still cracking like glass."The person Iām talking about," Delilah said, her voice smooth but edged with something darker, "the one who needs justice, is your wife."Michael froze, his breath hitching. His wife.Delilah took a slow step back, her gaze lingering on him before she turned toward the wall. Mounted there was a photo of Mrs. Madison, smiling wide, her eyes lit with a happiness Michael remembered only too well. The very image of the perfect wife.Delilah clicked her tongue and tilted her head slightly. "Such a poor soul," she said, her voice almost pitying. "She was so happy in public, wasnāt she? But deep inside... oh, the pain she carried."Michae
The black sedan rolled up the circular driveway of the grand mansion, its glossy exterior catching the dim light from the mansion's sprawling windows. It came to a halt near the wide steps leading to the entrance, and the uniformed driver stepped out swiftly, moving with purpose to the backseat.Opening the door, the driver waited as Judge Michael Madison leaned forward, his polished shoes catching on the edge of the car. As Michael rose, his legs wobbled slightly, his hand instinctively gripping the edge of the door for support. He muttered something under his breath, his vision momentarily spinning."Sir," the driver said, his hand darting out to steady Michaelās arm."I'm fine," Michael said in a slow, drawn-out tone, waving the man off weakly. "I can walk on my own."The driver hesitated but nodded, stepping back with a professional bow. Michael adjusted his jacket, his steps unsteady as he made his way up the stairs and into the mansion.Inside, the familiar warmth of the hou
After Jonah's humiliation, Ruby and Helen returned to the cafĆ© with Delilah. The atmosphere inside was calm, with only a few customers lingering over their drinks. As the last patrons departed, the cafĆ© grew quiet, the only sounds being the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the soft rustle of Delilah's notes as she helped Ruby and Helen with the cleanup. Delilah supervised the process, her keen eye ensuring every corner was spotless.Later in the evening, as she grabbed her bag to leave, her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with the name John. A smile instantly appeared on her face as she hastily answered."Finally," Delilah said, her tone laced with mock impatience. "Iāve been expecting your call.""My apologies," Johnās voice came through, calm but slightly rushed. "Something came up.""Ohā¦" Delilah tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "I hope it wasnāt anything serious.""Not at all," he reassured. "Actually, Iāve done the research on the judgeās deceased wife."Delilah stra