Mag-log in(POV: Oma)"You go and rest, Oma. You need it," Aunty Grace said, her voice a soothing balm against the jagged edges of my exhaustion. She reached out, her arms already open and welcoming for my daughter.Maya didn't hesitate. She leaned forward, sensing the familiar warmth of Grace’s embrace and the comforting, maternal scent that always seemed to cling to her. Babies have an instinct for these things, a way of mapping out safe harbor in a world they are just beginning to understand. I watched for a moment, a wave of relief washing over me as I saw Maya nestle into the crook of her neck, content and oblivious to the tensions simmering beneath the surface of this homecoming."I’ll be fine," I whispered, though I wasn't entirely sure it was true.I turned and made my way to the staircase. My legs felt heavy, weighed down by the physical toll of the journey and the lingering anxiety that had been gnawing at me since I left the city. The house felt different, shadows seemed to stretch lo
(POV: Richard)The first thing I noticed was the white ceiling, the harsh bite of a fluorescent light, and the lingering, clinical smell of antiseptic which I had grown far too accustomed to over the past few weeks. It was a sterile, unforgiving scent that clung to my skin and seemed to sink deep into my lungs.These were the first fragments of reality I could put together. Slowly, with a groan that felt like gravel grinding in my throat, I turned my head. The room tilted, a wave of nausea washing over me, but I forced myself to focus.A doctor was standing near the foot of my bed, his brow furrowed as he scribbled something onto a clipboard. By the door, a security officer stood with his arms folded across his chest, a silent guard in the quiet room."Mr. Jones." The doctor looked up, his eyes meeting mine. "It’s good to see you’re awake. You took a significant blow to the head during the commotion at the terminal. We’ve checked you over, and while we don't believe there is anything
"I'm coming, Oma."I whispered the words into the stale air of the car, my knuckles white as I fought the steering wheel. The drive to the airport was a blur of neon streetlights and reckless near-misses. Every red light felt like a personal insult, a deliberate attempt by the universe to keep me from the only place I belonged. The slow-moving taxis in front of me felt like physical barriers my mother had placed there herself, just another obstacle in a lifetime of curated interference. By the time I screeched into the terminal parking, my shirt was plastered to my back with cold sweat, and my hands were cramping, locked into the shape of the wheel.I didn't bother parking properly; I shoved the car into a space and sprinted toward the sliding glass doors. The airport terminal was humming with its usual frantic late-night energy—the scent of burnt coffee, the monotone drone of flight announcers, and the aimless, rushing tide of travellers."Richard!"I spun around, scanning the crowd
(Pov Nora)I arrived at the Jones house. I had been calling Richard for five days. Five days of silence and his mother telling me he was "resting" or "recovering."I wasn't a fool. You don't rest for five days without picking up a phone unless you are dead or hiding.I walked into the room, I saw his mother Elizabeth Jones and her face a mask of perfect, cold poise. She looked at me as if I were a smudge on her expensive wallpaper."Where is he, Mrs Jones?" I snapped. My fingers dug into my leather handbag so hard the skin of my knuckles turned white. "I’m tired of the games. I know he isn't sleeping."Richard's mother poured a cup of tea for herself as she responded."He left, Nora. He’s back at his own house. I suppose he needed to pack his things before the move.""He just left? Without you calling me? Without even a word?""He has a lot on his mind," Richard's mother said smoothly, her eyes meeting mine with a warning glint. "If I were you, I’d go remind him what he’s about to l
POV: RichardThe car was quiet for a moment after Ned finished talking. He told me everything he knew, his suspicions of what he thought was going on, and how he had hired Cole to make some investigations.I sat there quietly, trying to assimilate everything he had just said and let it settle. Oma has left for Oakhaven for her family over a phone call from Benson telling her about an accident that Cole's people couldn't find any hospital record of."She went alone?" I asked feeling straight away that there was something not right about it."Yes, yesterday's morning," Ned said. "She took Maya with her.""And you're telling me there was no accident." I asked as my heart began to beat faster following the implication of what could be at stake."No record of it anywhere according Cole’s investigation," Ned said. "Not at Oakhaven General or at any facility within twenty miles of the Johnson house."I looked at the road ahead as I heaved a kind of knowing sigh. "So, someone called her with
(POV: Richard)The knock came at half past eight.I was sitting on the edge of the bed fully dressed, staring at the carpet. I had been dressed since morning, not because I had anywhere to go, but because putting on clothes felt like the only decision in this house that still belonged to me.Two of my mother's security guards opened the door."Sir," the taller one said. "There is a visitor downstairs."I looked up at him. "Who?"They looked at each other briefly."Who is it?" I asked again."You should come down now sir."I looked at them for a long moment. Then I stood up and we all went downstairs.---I heard Ned's voice before I saw him.I was halfway down the stairs when I heard his voice. I stopped on the step and held the banister.Then I kept walking.Ned was standing in the centre of the sitting room with his jacket on and his hands in his pockets. My mother was beside him, like she was managing the conversation."He has been resting," she was saying smoothly. "He really shou
"Sir, they will tear you apart!" the security said in panic."Let them try." Richard pushed past the guard and shoved the heavy glass doors open."Mr. Jones," the head of building security said, stepping forward with a pale, stressed face. "Sir, we’ve called the district, but they’re taking their ti
Richard’s face was ashen. His hands, usually so steady in a courtroom, were trembling as he reached for the guest log. He didn't need to read the names because the date, the room number, the hazy memory of a girl in a silver mask begging for help, all blended into a single, devastating realization.
Chapter 8: The Household Chatter “I brought fresh pot of tea,” she announced as she entered the dining, it's made of ginger and honey. She arranged the sandwich, curtsied and left.I turned to Richard and said, “Mrs Higgins seems to be a very dedicated person.”“Yeah, she has been here since I got
Two attorneys Richard considered as friends from his Jones and Associates days had stopped returning calls.Richard noticed all of it and didn't comment, but clearly understood that this is putting him off guard now and getting him worried too since this week.While I was preparing eggs for breakfa







