The first thing Isabella noticed was Emily's fancy car parked beside one of Ethan's cars closer to the gate. She took a heavy breath, followed by a smirk, akin to an envious cat. "Let's see if you can still drive into this mansion in a few days," she muttered, then continued to walk towards Ethan's mansion entrance. As she entered the mansion, the first thing she perceived was the delicious aroma wafting into her nostrils, like a siren's call. This sweet aroma reminded her of the childhood summers she spent at her grandmother's place. "This is a freshly baked apple pie," Isabella thought. "A specialty my grandmother prepared with a secret blend of cinnamon, nutmeg, and love," she thought again. "How come it smells exactly the same?" she asked herself in a silent whisper, almost as if she were revisiting a cherished memory from long ago. If that was all, it was a lie. The kitchen Emily cooked in was a spacious, inviting space with warm, earthy tones that created a cozy atmosphere.

As Emily emerged from her entrance door like a butterfly breaking free from its cocoon, Isabella noticed that she was fully prepared for her daily jogging ritual. Her attire was a perfect blend of practicality and style, carefully chosen for her jogging adventure.A headband rested upon her head like a loyal companion, while a vibrant baseball cap crowned her look, shielding her eyes from the rising sun that was going to gently intrude.On her upper body, she donned a sports bra that cradled her in comfort and support, a silent confidant in her active pursuit. Over this foundation, she wore a long-sleeved running shirt, its fabric whispering secrets of moisture-wicking charm. It flowed with her as she prepared to face the challenges of the day.Her lower half was embraced by running shorts, their vibrant colors echoing the energy surging through her veins. They swayed with her every step, a dance of liberation. Her feet, resolute and prepared for the journey ahead, were encased in car

"You see, we've already thought about it for a long time. You have something we want, and it's only been a couple of weeks since you've had it. So, it can't be hard at all to let it go. Or will you hold on to it even after we've asked you to let it go? The end result of that would be a fatal situation. Do you understand what I mean? Haha." Alexa laughed like a sinister puppeteer pulling the strings of a dark and twisted puppet show; hence, she continued talking. “Okay, I am digressing too often from the point. I apologize for my lack of manners, Emily Collins. I'm sure you have to meet your clients today and visit operational sites. Don't worry; you will be leaving the city anyway, and trust me, you are never coming back. So there is no point in being in a hurry. Hahaha.” Alexa laughed again and continued talking. “Alright, let me get serious about this. Enough of the playful banter.” "Emily Collins, do you know a person named Ethan Markwood? The CEO of Woodmark Industries? Or shoul

"And this is Rebecca Johnson reporting live from Global Network News. Mary, how are things over there?" Everything that had happened, including the reasons for Isabella Rosewood's arrest by the police, had been reported live on all TV channels, and Global Network News was no exception. Furthermore, they had invited Victorial Sinclair to be interviewed about her thoughts on the whole scenario. *** "Mrs. Victorial Sinclair, what do you think about all these happenings?" "Thank you, Miss Mary. There is a lot I think about in this scenario. However, does what I think matter? The deed has already been done, and we can only see what happens from here." "You are right, Mrs. Victorial Sinclair. However, Isabella Rosewood is your daughter. I know that at some point you divorced her father. I mean, the last time you were here, you categorically stated that fact. But now, with your daughter finding herself in what I would call hot water, the public really wants to know what you think. So, wh

After reading the letter, Isabella raised her head with a brighter hope on her face, closed her eyes, and let out a heavy sigh. "I am ready," she exclaimed, and then opened her eyes again. What she saw was the officer before her placing his finger on his mouth and making a shushing sound. "Shhh..." Without any further words, Isabella understood what he meant, and she nodded, listening as the officer whispered, "Bring your hands; I am cuffing you again." Like an obedient child who listens, Isabella extended her hands to the officer and watched as he cuffed her as he said. "Walk in that direction and never look back," the officer said once again, and immediately Isabella began to walk, obeying the instruction of the officer. This path led out of the small room where Isabella had read the letter from her father. It was a dimly lit corridor, one of many branching off the small, windowless room. The corridor stretched out before her, lined with peeling paint and flickering overhead lig