UNEARTHED

The alarm buzzed in the early hours of the morning. It was 6:00 AM, and Philip reached out with a groggy hand to silence it. As he lifted his phone to check the time, still half-buried in his pillow, a surge of messages flooded in. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the last sender: Jessica, his girlfriend.

"Oh dear, what did I do this time around to deserve this many messages?" Philip muttered to himself, panic beginning to bubble in his chest.

His hands trembled, scared to open them. He stood up from his bed and began to pace around his small, cluttered apartment, anxiety crawled in at his insides. "What if it’s a breakup message?" he thought, dread settling over him like a dark cloud. "I can't handle a breakup. I can't. I can't."

After what felt like an eternity of deliberation, he mustered the courage to open one of the messages. The first one he read made his heart stop. “We are in a very big mess.”

He panicked and closed the phone immediately.

“What did we do?” he whispered to himself, confusion mingling with his fear. He opened the phone and he continued reading, a wave of relief washed over him. At least it wasn't a breakup. Jessica wasn't ending things with him.Without completely reading all the messages he stormed off his room.

He stumbled into his tiny kitchen, a sea of dirty dishes greeting him. The clock on the wall read 7:03 AM, and a new wave of panic set in. He was late. Jessica wouldn't be gentle with him, especially since his presence was needed at the office. Philip had been working heavy shifts at Jessica's father's company, where she had employed him as her secretary.

Jessica had so much power over him with a cruel efficiency, issuing commands and dictating his every move. Her father owned the business, and she relished in her control over Philip, often treating him with a cold indifference. It was a role Philip had reluctantly accepted, betrayed by his own insecurities and dependence on the job.

Whenever he caught her with another man, his heart shattered a little more. Yet, when he tried to confront her, she would threaten to end their relationship. His attachment and deep-seated inferiority complex forced him into a cycle of begging for her to stay, even as she continued to betray him.

He had nowhere else to go. His parents were poor, and he had barely managed to graduate college, burdened with a mountain of student loans. The meager salary from Jessica’s job was his lifeline, supporting both his own expenses and those of his parents.

Frantically dressing, he bolted out of his apartment, only to be confronted by Mr. Stephens, his landlord. Philip owed months of rent, and the old man was growing impatient.

"Philip… Philip… where is my rent money?" Mr. Stephens called out.

Panic crept through Philip. He dodged the landlord’s gaze, jumping down the opposite staircase and fleeing as fast as he could. He knew he couldn’t afford to be late for work at Lane’s Industries, the company owned by Jessica’s father. Choosing his job over a confrontation with the landlord, he hoped he could buy himself some more time.

As he ran, he heard Mr. Stephens shouting from a distance, "I will lock your door, and this will be the last time you stay here!" The threat echoed in his ears, but he couldn't stop. He had to reach the office.

The streets blurred around him as he sprinted, his thoughts a surge of fear and desperation. He was running from more than just his landlord; he was running from the fragility of his existence, from the constant fear of losing everything he had.

He found a speeding taxi, he waved his hands to flag the taxi, the taxi was on speed and finally stopped with a loud screech of the tires against the road.

“How much for the Lanes industry”... He asked

“seven dollars”... The taxi man said.

“Too expensive, the fees are usually $5.50”...Philip protested.

“Alright you can find another taxi”

“Oh wait, I am late”... He said to himself. He did not hesitate, he hopped in immediately, the taxi drove off.

LANE’S BUILDING:

The taxi screeched to a halt, and Philip burst out, tossing a handful of bills at the driver before sprinting toward his usual coffee shop. He needed his morning coffee to steady his nerves. However, as he approached the shop, he saw a long queue winding out the door. He glanced at his watch, frustration bubbling up. The sun was barely up, yet the day already felt overwhelming.

Without his coffee, Philip hurried toward Lane’s Industries. As he neared the entrance, his heart sank. The gates were blocked by sleek, black official cars, their tinted windows giving off an unwanted air. A crowd had gathered, everyone struggling to see what was happening. Officers in black suits and dark glasses stood guard, preventing anyone from entering.

“What’s going on?” Philip asked a man beside him who was also trying to push his way through.

“Beats me,” the man replied, his voice tinged with irritation. “I just need to get in.”

Philip’s anxiety spiked as he edged his way to the front of the crowd. One of the officers stepped forward, his baritone voice booming, “ID, please.”

Philip fumbled to pull his ID from his back pocket, his hands shaking. The officer scrutinized it, then looked up. “Philip Scott?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Philip confirmed, his voice unsteady.

“Wait here, sir. Be patient.”

The officer walked away, joining a group of men standing at a distance. Philip watched them confer, their expressions unreadable. After a tense few minutes, two more officers joined the first and approached Philip.

“Mr. Scott, please come with us,” one of the officers said, gesturing for Philip to follow.

With a sense of command, Philip complied, following them through the familiar hallways of Lane’s Industries. They led him to the secretary’s office, where he usually began his workday. Inside, he found Jessica standing by the window, her back to him.

“Hello, Jessi,” Philip said, his voice hopeful. But she didn’t turn to face him. Her silence was not comfortable, but Philip, accustomed to her attitude towards him, interpreted it as lingering anger from their last interaction. He tried to reassure himself, thinking about the messages she’d sent that morning.

“What’s going on?” he asked, scanning the room. The atmosphere was thick with tension.

Before anyone could respond, the door swung open. A man with silver hair, looking every bit his nearly sixty years, entered the room. He carried an air of authority, settling into a chair and opening a file.

“Mr. Scott,” he began, his voice steady and authoritative, “you are under arrest for money laundering.”

“What do you mean I am being arrested for money laundering?” Philip’s voice quivered, his heart pounding as panic began to take hold. His hands were clammy and shaking, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. It felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on him, and he was standing in front of a raging fire.

Desperate, he turned to Jessica. “Please tell me this is a mistake!” he begged. But Jessica remained silent, her face showing indifferent emotions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Philip protested, confusion and fear warping his voice.

The officer, his expression stern, replied, “The evidence is overwhelming. We have your phone records and account details. The files are with us.”

“Phone records?” Philip echoed, his mind reeling. He pressed his back against the wall, still in a state of shock. “This can’t be happening,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head.

In a frantic motion, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through the notifications he had ignored earlier. To his horror, he saw numerous messages about transactions and deposits totaling nearly fifteen million dollars into his account. His eyes widened in disbelief.

“This can’t be possible. I’m not aware of any of these transactions!” Philip’s voice broke as he struggled to breathe. His vision blurred with tears as he sank to his knees in front of Jessica, clutching her clothes in a desperate plea.

“Please help me, Jessica. I don’t know anything about this!” His voice was raw with desperation.

Jessica looked down at him with a cold, detached expression. “How could you?” she said, her voice laced with contempt. “I gave you a job at my father’s company, even when everyone wanted me to fire you. And this is how you repay me? By stealing from us?”

“Baby… baby, this is a lie,” Philip argued, his voice cracking. “Think about it. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would I steal such a large amount and leave it in my own account?”

“Because you’re a fool,” Jessica retorted, her eyes narrowing. “It makes perfect sense.”

She shoved his hands away from her skirt, standing up and straightening her clothes with an air of finality. “He’s all yours,” she said to the officers, her voice cold and dismissive.

Jessica stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The officers moved in, roughly grabbing Philip by the arms. They slapped handcuffs on his wrists and led him out of Lane’s Industries, his mind a whirl of disbelief and despair.

Meanwhile, Jessica took the elevator to her father’s office. She walked in with a triumphant smile.

“Has he been taken?” Andrew Lane asked, not looking up from his paperwork.

“Of course. It was so easy,” Jessica replied, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Good… good,” Andrew said, finally glancing up. “How could he be so foolish as to come to work after receiving those text messages?”

Jessica chuckled softly. “Well, I know Philip better than he knows himself. He’s quite the dummy.”

Andrew leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. “Excellent. This solves one of our problems. He was becoming too much of a liability.”

“Indeed,” Jessica agreed, her eyes glinting with a mix of triumph and cold calculation. “Now we can move on without any hindrance.”

Back outside, Philip was thrown into the back of a police car, his thoughts a chaotic reaction of confusion and fear. How had his life spiraled out of control so quickly? He replayed the events in his mind, trying to find some clue, some mistake that could explain this nightmare.

As the car pulled away, the reality of his situation settled in. Abandoned by the woman he loved, falsely accused, and now on his way to jail, Philip felt as if he were falling into an abyss with no way to climb out. The future he had dreamed of seemed to vanish before his eyes, leaving behind only darkness and uncertainty.