The Answers

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."

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He looked up at the sky filled with dancing stars "I wonder how long it will take for this realm to become extinct." The savior thought within himself. "Well, that would take a billion years, give or take." The savior heard in his head. He looked around to see who it was but he didn't see anyone, he replied anyway "Then we need to make that billion years into few years. And I know what to do." The round table was covered with a golden cloth with some strangers sitting round it "I hope we are all clear on what to do?" The savior asked.

“You want to say the person belongs to the same field as you?” Sebastien shrugged his shoulder at Abigail’s question “Don’t you have any doubt on anyone that you think could be behind you?” Abigail shook her head “I wish I could get any hint” there was silence after that. Both have nothing to say about this anymore. When Dylan’s raspy voice took their attention, Abigail raised her eyebrows at him “What happened Dylan?” Dylan took deep breaths to bring back his heartbeat to its proper rhythm “Chloe, her mother received a call” the words that left his mouth were enough to make Abigail and Sebastien leave their places swiftly “What they said to her?” this time Sebastien was one to ask, but Dylan didn’t answer him, he had a pained expression on his face “Dylan? What they said” Abigail’s harsh voice forced him to answer her “They will kill Chloe and they know she is currently out shopping at the supermarket” after listening to him Abigail rushed towards the door ushering him to the side “Wait Abigail” Dylan and Sebastien followed her but she ran fast to save her friend Abigail is finding the suspect of her parent\'s accident, she knows that it was not a normal accident but instead was planned and wants to reach out to the person who was behind it. She has her own team who was working on this but the past holds many secrets and when she starts to dig her team increases, and many characters of the past came forward to help her, somehow they were also affected by that accident. What happened in the past, the secret her mother knows and pays the cost of knowing it.

Did the goddess make a mistake or was I destined to suffer or should I just make a way for myself to be happy. These are questions Jane must answer while she still breathes in order not to make any mistakes or regret living.

The housekeeper, who was always punctual, was late today. "Madam, I'm so sorry… dinner isn't ready yet. Please don't be upset with me…" "But this time, there was no helping it. I waited downstairs for over half an hour, and no one swiped in. I even called Mr. Gregory, but he didn't answer. That's why I'm late." My hand froze mid-motion as I was changing shoes, and a frown creased my brow. "Lydia," I said, "didn't I have Richard give you the access card?" Lydia Pendel froze, her face blank. "Access card? Mr. Gregory never gave me one." "Never?" I repeated. "Yes," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead, her voice careful. "All this past month, I've been sneaking in whenever another resident opened the door, or calling Mr. Gregory so he could let me in. "Today, Mr. Gregory didn't answer at all, so I was stuck downstairs, feeling helpless…" That was strange. Because over the past month, the electronic lock on the front gate had clearly recorded swipes from that backup card.