All Chapters of The Vision She Hid: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

.Behind me, a man blocked the door. He wore black turtleneck and had thick arms and brass knuckles gleaming like death threats. He didn’t shout “freeze”; he didn’t need to. You don’t need a script when you’ve got perfect murder set up, and the victim had no chances.I dove behind the desk at the last millisecond. The trophies rattled, and the books produced surprised, clattering sound. My heart thumped against my rib cage so loud I thought it might knock the world off its axis.But I was in luck: the blade missed my neck by a breath of fresh air. A cold whisper of metal sliced the air. I was foolish not to have a knife on me. I grabbed a small trophy from the desk, a bronze sculpture of a galloping horse. It had decent weight and had been built to last.I gave it a good swing. My kick to the desk wobbled it a bit, but the swing connected well: bronze’s sharp end met the man’s rib with bone-crunch precision. He stumbled, but only half-lost his balance—he had a decent survival skill.T

The old, mended Toyota sedan looked like a remnant of a better and younger car. It sat idling outside the house gates, paint flaking like old lies, and an engine hum that sounded a bit nervous about the road ahead. Dutsy sat behind the wheel, thin hands clenching the steering wheel like it might bolt if he blinked. His shoulders were up around his ears and his eyes never stopped checking the mirror.I slid into the passenger seat without asking. Just a short hi would do for what was ahead of us. The leatherette felt cold against my arm. I wasn’t sure this thing would make it out of town.“Nice wheels,” I muttered. “What’s it run on? Paranoia and rust?”“Mostly duct tape and prayers,” Dutsy said, eyes flicking sideways just long enough to confirm I was still there. “And a couple of wires I really shouldn’t have spliced.”I nodded. It was too late. I was fully committed to the journey. We pulled away from the house like we were stealing something. Which, technically, I guess we were. M

The lock clicked like a bad idea. I slipped inside with the grace of a cat burglar—quiet, smooth, hoping no one noticed how close I was to running away. The house swallowed the noise behind me, but the man inside wasn’t fooled. He stood by the window, back half turned away, still dressed like an assassin who liked his job.“You’re late,” he said. Not angry, just curious. The kind of curiosity that didn’t have to ask questions to carve them into your skin and let your blood answer.I dropped my Prada coat onto the chaise like I wasn’t hiding a weapon under the collar. “Late?” I smiled, lips dry. “It’s still today somewhere.” He didn’t smile back. That’s when I knew the storm had arrived and was deciding where to hit.The silence between us didn’t feel like silence any longer. It was a thousand unasked questions wearing mufflers and waiting for the right temperature to strike. Elky Jennings turned slowly, staring at me, and I felt the floor leaning toward him. I just realised my husba

The greenhouse smelled like dried manure and rot. Humid air was sick with stuffy perfume, vine leaves dripped overhead as if they’d rather dry out than reveal what grew beneath them.Andros Jennings, Elky’s older brother, leaned against the orchid bench like a man leaning on the edge of a noose, dressed in fine linen suite. That Jennings was a bit shorter, still handsome, polite, and had a particularly strong hands capable of turning a handshake into a confession.Marta faced him, calm and indifferent as usual. Between them, the orchids nodded in silent applause, petals slick with humidity and eavesdropping.His smile was slow and measured. “You’ve built something here,” he said, voice caressing each word as if it was his favorite whiskey. “I am impressed, lady. Your intelligence, your survival instincts, your loyalty for God’s sake!” He shouted out each word like a keen auctioneer, then paused. “But when a man falters, when knives come out—where will you land, huh?” He asked, playin

But Marta didn’t have a chance to tell me what it was. There was a loud bang somewhere in the garden. I recognized the sadly familiar sound of a car exploding in the car park. I felt Marta’s strong hands grabbing my shoulders, protecting me from what may come next. But nothing did; just people running down the stairs to look what happened. Some out of fear, some out of curiosity, and at least one of them to double check that what had to be burn did so nicely. It was my chance to do the work done and I was too alert to waste it. I slipped out of Marta’s embrace and joined the crowd stomping outside. Only I didn’t go with the flow towards the car park. The night was the kind that pressed its palms over your mouth and whispered, “Don’t scream.” I slipped out of the stomping crowd of staff and confused bodyguards like a rumor on legs, taking the long path toward the stables that hadn’t seen a horse since grief ran its last lap. The moon dragged over the estate like it owed me an explanat