~Tragedy~
They were all arguing, each of the employees—Andrès co-workers. Andrès thought that he was going to lose his mind. In the midst of the entire commotion, it had not even occurred to him to search for his wife. He was so intent on getting his boss to the hospital. He could not even say for sure what had happened to the man. “How do we know that we can trust you and whatever it is that you’re saying?” A man shouted at the top of his voice. They had all left the boss who was now slumped on the floor, unmoving. “How do we know that you didn’t try to kill the boss yourself?” “Why would I try to have the boss killed?” Andrès yelled. “I don’t know. You tell me!” Andrès was tired of how foolish this entire thing was beginning to sound and he tried to reason with his fellow employees again. “Look, the important right now is that we get to the hospital. The man is dying over there, in case you all have not noticed.” As if a switched had been flicked on in their brains, the employees suddenly remembered that there was a dying man with them in the room. The boss’s gasps were quickly turning into faint wheezing noises. Somebody whipped out their phone and dialed 911 immediately. “They’re bringing an ambulance!” the person screamed. But Andrès worried that the ambulance would not arrive in time. “Help me take him downstairs.” Andrès suggested and moved to hold the boss’s arms. A woman muttered shyly, “I’m not sure we’re supposed to move him. We’re supposed to hang tight until the ambulance gets here.” Andrès snapped. “We don’t know when the ambulance is going to get here. We need to at least get him downstairs so if the paramedic team arrives, they can offer him first aid immediately and help him into the ambulance rught after. Are you all even thinking? Help me with the boss!” They grumbled, but some of the other men helped Andrès as they carried the body out of the office and into the lift. The lift brought down them downstairs. They were fanning the boss and trying to talk to him to keep him awake until the ambulance arrived. “They’re here!” a woman screamed. “The paramedic team is here.” Andrès felt such relief flood through him. At the very least, his boss would be getting treatment. He saw the paramedic team rush through the doors and he waved his hands so they could spot him easily. Within seconds, they had his boss strapped to an emergency stretcher which they wheeled into the ambulance. “I’m coming with you,” Andrea said and jumped into the ambulance. He could not leave his boss’s side, especially because he felt personally responsible. The ambulance headed to the hospital very quickly and the doors were flung open as soon as they arrived at the hospital. A stretcher came out to meet them and the boss was carefully laid onto the new stretcher and was wheeled into the hospital, straight to the emergency. All the while, Andrès kept trying to talk to the boss, until he was wheeled into the E.R. Then Andrès prayed that his boss would survive. No one came out of the E.R. for what seemed like an eternity. Andrès had his hands against the other as he sat down. Unable to sit still with himself and nervous from all the events of the day, he tried calling his wife, but her number was not going through. He wondered what the other employees would be doing at the office by this time. They had certainly been riled up by the fact that the boss had slumped and they had even wanted to blame everything on him. But he was innocent, and the boss probably knew that too. Andrès thought about his boss’s plans to leave and not return. He knew that his boss had a heart condition. Almost everybody at the office had speculated that there was something wrong with the boss somehow or the other, but his boss had personally told him that he was going on the trip and that he would not be returning to the company. Andrès thought about the job offer that he had turned down. He did not want his boss to entrust the ownership of the company to him at all. He was certain that the boss was definitely going to come back healthier from his trip, and then he would continue with running the affairs of the company. But now, Andrès was no longer so sure. Andrès sat down again and decided to wait. He would stay there for as long as it took until he was certain that his boss was alright. The doors of the E.R opened and nurses came out. Andrès jumped to his feet to meet the nurses, but they all wore pale faces. “What’s wrong?” Andrès asked. The nurses had sober expressions. “I’m sorry, Mr. Manuel; we tried everything… we lost him.” Andrès could not fathom why his boss had died. He felt like he was moving in slow-motion and the entire thing was a movie that he was watching from the eyes of another person. It couldn’t have been possible that his boss was already dead. He was hale and hearty just moments ago. He had even joked with Andrès. “The cause of death appears to be poisoning.” A nurse offered. Andrès frowned. Who would think of poisoning the boss? Andrès was at a loss for his words. He had opened his mouth to speak when he heard his name. He turned and saw men in uniform approaching. The police. “Are you Mr. Andrès Manuel?” One of the officers asked. “Yes, I am,” Andrès said hastily. “What’s wrong, officers?” The officers looked at each other. One of them brought out handcuffs from behind him. “Mr. Andrès Manuel, you’re under arrest for murder.” It had to be a mistake, Andrès protested, but the officers cuffed him and led him out of the hospital.~A Bullet In The Head~Carlos’s mansion blazed like a fortress. Spotlights beamed across the vast estate, casting shadows over the marble statues lining the driveway. All the guards were dressed in all black, they had rifles slung across their chests as they paced along the perimeter watching out for danger.Back in the house, Carlos Hugo stood before his mirror, strapped a bulletproof vest beneath his designer shirt. Sweat glistened on his temples. He wasn't sure of how the night would play out but he needed to be more than ready for it. He picked up a silver pistol from his dresser and loaded it with enough clicks. He was about to sip his glass of whiskey when his phone buzzed on the table beside him. He snatched it up."Where are you?" he barked.There was no reply, everything was static."Coward," he muttered, realizing his lawyer had fled.Unknown to him, there was something going on downstairs. One of the guards rushed in, "Sir... it's him."Carlos's face twisted instantly. "A
~Take Over~Carlos Hugo was feeling untouchable. The evening air hummed with music from the courtyard below his sprawling estate. He reclined in a velvet chair, his thick fingers were wrapped around a glass of twelve-year-old whiskey, a smug grin was etched across his aging face.Two of his men lounged near him—Rico and Benito, his most trusted bodyguards. They chuckled at a tasteless joke Carlos had just told about Andrès, completely oblivious to the fight coming.Carlos raised his glass. “To finally getting what I deserve. That empire will be mine. The boy never saw it coming.”As if summoned by karma itself, his phone buzzed relentlessly on the table beside him. The screen flashed with a name—Silvio.Carlos answered with a lazy tone, “This better be good.”But the moment Silvio’s panicked voice cracked through the receiver, his posture shifted. The color drained from his face.“Boss, he knows.”Carlos sat up. “What?”“Andrès. He knows everything… about Don Simon. The lawyer tipped
~Call Bruce~ Elena turned abruptly, her pulse quickening, heart thumping in her chest. For a brief second, fear clouded her eyes—until she recognized the man standing behind her. “Bruce,” she exhaled, placing a hand on her chest. “Did I scare you?” Bruce asked with a crooked smile. She let out a soft laugh, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Just a little.” Bruce was one of her most trusted legal informants, a discreet but sharp-minded ally who had helped her navigate the complex web of documentation surrounding her latest investigation. Without him, she wouldn’t have gotten half as far but this time, she owed all the credits to Clara. Moments later, Elena was dialing the secure number given to her by the person who’d hired her for this job. The meeting was arranged quickly, as usual, in a secret location—a dimly lit layout known only to a handful of operatives. When she arrived, two men were already waiting, disguised as always. They never introduced themselves, and
~I've Got Good News~ Elena stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the door Carlos had just disappeared through. Her pulse raced, her breath shallow. She hadn’t expected to see him here—at least not so suddenly, not without warning. There had been no exchange of words, no confrontation, just the fleeting moment when their eyes met before he turned and walked away, as if he’d seen a ghost. Clara approached, cutting through the club’s smoky haze with the ease of someone who belonged there. Though to others she appeared just another waitress, her role ran much deeper. Clara had been Elena’s eyes and ears inside this place for months now—discreet, reliable, and sharp as a blade. She leaned in close, brushing a hand lightly on Elena’s arm. “We can leave,” she said quietly. Elena nodded, still processing the moment that just happened. Together, they slipped out of the club and into the night, the cool air outside pressing against Elena’s skin like reality reclaiming its hold. The two women ma
~Touchè~ Elena sat curled up in the amber colored armchair of her small study, the rim of her coffee cup hovering just beneath her lips. The bitter liquid had long gone cold, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were fixed on the antique wall clock that ticked steadily in defiance of her rising anxiety. It was already past nine, and there was still nothing. No documents, no message, no confirmation—nothing from Bruce. She was extremely worried and the thought of him calling her sent shivers down her spine. The lamp on her desk cast a soft golden halo over the scattered papers and open folders. In the dim light, the sharp angles of her face were more pronounced, her tired eyes shadowed with worry. Her gaze fell on the worn photograph pinned to the corkboard above her desk—her sister, smiling beside a man whose face had been hastily scratched out in black ink. It was the only thing Elena hadn’t brought herself to throw away. With a weary sigh, she leaned back and rubbed her temples.
~24hrs~ Mateo sat hunched over in a leather chair, a glass of Grappa half-finished on the table beside him. His tailored black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his Sleek black hair hung in front of his eyes as he stared at the silent screen of his phone as if expecting a call. He rubbed his eyes hoping he didn't look as bad as he looked whenever he had sleepless nights. The silence broke suddenly with a sharp buzz. A name flashed across the screen: Elena. He answered without hesitation. "Well?" Mateo's voice was clipped, low, and impatient. On the other end, Elena sighed, tired but composed. "Still working on it." Mateo gritted his teeth. "Elena, you already have enough time.I need results, not excuses." "I'm not a magician,Mister. I'm really trying my best but you have to trust me." Mateo stood up abruptly, pacing the room. His bare feet padded across the cold wooden floor as he ran a hand through his hair. "You’ve got twenty-four hours? After that, I will fin