Stephen was pacing up and down the narrow hallway of the yacht. His anxiety was a living, breathing entity chasing her all over the yacht. A few of the crew members and the seasoned captain of the seas followed behind. The search seemed to be unending as the yacht was huge. With every second, Stephen's heart was pounding out an insistent rhythm as some fear for Ariane clawed at his insides."Captain, we have to find her. We have to find Ariane," Stephen urged on, his voice taut with desperation.The captain nodded his weathered face, creased with lines of worry. "We've scoured every room, but there's no sign of her. It's as if she vanished."Stephen clenched his fists. "We'll find her. I don't care what it takes. Just make sure she's safe."The captain nodded solemnly. "We're doing everything we can."Stephen started back down the hallway with crew members close behind. Night was starting to creep in around the dimly lit yacht, long shadows stretching out across the floor. He remember
Shaking, Stephen picked up the single-foot slipper that lay beside the note. It was unmistakably small, child-sized, and he could smell the familiar scent of lavender in his nostrils, Ariane's favorite. The full impact of the fact hit him then with the force of a sledgehammer: Ariane had been here recently, but the kidnappers moved her only minutes ago. Panic surged in him like a tidal wave.He balled the note in his fist; the words barely had time to register on his mind as he tried to lock onto the crisis at hand. His mind was racing with finding Ariane before it was too late. The corridors of the yacht made a disorienting maze, every turn and every shadow seeming to mock his desperate search. He bolted out of the room, the weight of his responsibility pounding in his heart.The water level on the yacht was high, sometimes ankle-deep. Stephen splashed through growing puddles as his flashlight beam cut through the murky blackness. It creaked in the structure of the yacht under the pr
Stephen returned to the control room, his clothes soaked and his expression grim. The captain was in the middle of a tense meeting with several crew members; their faces showed worry. The captain looked up as Stephen came in."Mr. Stephen," the captain said, waving him into the group, "we are trying to get the engine repaired. The yacht is taking on water, and we need to avoid sinking."One of the crew added, "The signal line to call for help has been disconnected. We're effectively cut off."Stephen's eyes locked onto the captain's. "Have you found my daughter?" he asked, his voice strung taut with anxiety.The captain shook his head. "Not yet, but we will. Right now, we need to stabilize the yacht. If we sink, everyone's in danger."Stephen's face darkened. "So, my daughter's safety isn't a priority?"The captain sighed again as his eyes met Stephen's. "That is not what I mean. The lives of everyone on board are at stake. We first have to wrest back control of the yacht. After that,
Marianne continued to pound against the door as the hail of blows she pummeled with her fists coursed through her. "Let me out!" she shouted, her voice cracking from desperation. The creeping water was ankle-deep and slowly beginning to squeeze a fist of panic in her chest.She fumbled with her phone to dial up Stephen's number. It rang forever. "Come on, Stephen, pick up," she muttered, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. When it went to voicemail, she cursed under her breath. "Great. Just great.She threw desperate eyes through the little room for any kind of help. The water kept rising. She knew she had just moments before she'd be completely submerged. Desperate, she scoured every inch for a sign of a way out.Charles sat at a corner table in the yacht's restaurant bolting down prawns drenched in hot sauce. He hadn't seen Stephen in quite a while and wondered what could be keeping him. A flicker of darkness, the lights went out, murmurs of confusion filled the room.Charles l
Back in the city, Enoch trudged into his apartment, beat after a long, tiring day at the Empire. The night sky hung over him like an inky blanket starred with little lights that had no cheering effect on him. He flung his briefcase onto the sofa and beelined for the small bar in the corner of his living room.He poured himself a generous whiskey glass and breathed deep as the amber liquid swirled around inside. "Heaven today was hell," he muttered to himself. Financial loss reports and machinery breakdowns had dominated his day. If only he could predict the market better, he thought, then maybe things wouldn't be quite so bleak.Enoch collapsed onto the sofa, wincing when the leather groaned under him. He took a long drag off his drink, wincing a little as it burned on the way down. He picked up his remote and turned on the TV, hoping for some sort of distraction from the headaches of the day.The anchorman's voice bounced sharply around the room. "Breaking news: A luxury yacht has be
Stephen's eyes flickered to a brilliant white light, with just the steady beep punctuating the silence. He lay still, feeling the dull ache of pain mixed with the warmth of a soft hospital bed. His head turned upward slowly as his mind worked furiously to piece together fragmented memories of a sinking yacht and the water's cold embrace.It was a small, sterilized room with white walls and only one window. He distinguished two security guards at their posts through the frosted glass door, shadowy silhouettes to ensure that no man went in or out of the room. Stephen's heart began to race. The last moments still fresh in his mind: Yuna clinging onto him, the frenzy of the water, and then that "Mission Successful" message that had flashed before his eyes as he sank into unconsciousness."What… what happened?" he muttered, reaching to sit up; his muscles were stiff and weak. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cold floor against his feet. Panic surged in through him when his g
Marianne's car drew in front of the luxury hotel, and Stephen just stared blankly out at the front doors. It was as if it were a place he had never seen before—foreign to him. Marianne turned toward him with a glance and a weak smile. "Come on, let's go inside," she whispered, pushing him toward the doors.No sooner had they entered the spacious and luxurious lobby than a group of hotel employees, including the manager, were lining up with their gifts in hand. As they neared, he beamed at them. "Welcome back, Mr. King," he said warmly.Stephen turned his eyes to the manager. Furrows deepened on his brow as he tried to think who this man was. A look of confusion swam over his eyes, and the manager's smiling face fell. "I—I'm sorry if I did something wrong," he stammered.Marianne stepped in, smooth as silk. "Stephen isn't feeling well," she said. "We appreciate your concern, but he really does need to rest."She sidestepped the staff and took Stephen's arm lightly, leading him across t
She drove back to the penthouse; a sense of relief washed over her as she finally felt in control of events, securing her family's safety and peace. As she parked the car, the city's lights glittered like scattered diamonds, contrasting strongly with the dark thoughts whirling in her mind.She took the elevator to the last floor: the penthouse. Softly chiming, the doors slid open, and she stepped out into the corridor, squaring her shoulders and smoothing her expression. She pushed open the door on Stephen and Ariane, who were sitting on the couch and could not have looked more content. Stephen was reading from some storybook, and Ariane had her head on his shoulder with her eyes shining in a gleam of happiness.A pang of guilt stabbed through Marianne, but she quashed it. This was necessary.Her mother, standing a ways to the side, turned to watch her enter. Her eyes swept the room, seeking. "Where's Yuna?" she asked. Her voice edged with unease."I've gotten rid of her," Marianne re