Jennet's voice trembled as she spoke into the phone, "Brown, how are you holding up?" She already knew the answer, but she had to ask. On the other end of the line, Brown shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks and into his full beard. Jennet's heart broke at the sight. Brown had never kept a beard before; it didn't suit him. But now, he looked so unkempt and forlorn, like a criminal. The thought sent her into a fresh wave of tears. Both mother and son sat in silence, holding their phones to their ears, crying without saying a word. The only sound was their sobbing, a heartbreaking symphony of pain and despair. Jennet's mind raced with thoughts of her son's innocence, of the injustice that had been done to him. She felt helpless, trapped in this nightmare she couldn't wake up from. As they sat there, tears streaming down their faces, Jennet knew she had to keep fighting for Brown's freedom. She couldn't give up, no matter how bleak things seemed. She took a deep breath, tryin
Mark pushed open the door to David's office, located in the Igloo commercial building, and stepped inside. Before he could even take a seat, David sprang into action. He darted up from his chair, threw on his jacket, and exclaimed, "You've arrived just in time!" Mark's confusion was evident on his face as he asked, "In time for what?" Mark's eyes narrowed slightly, trying to read between the lines. David's expression turned serious as he revealed, "You've been invited to a meeting with the board, Mark." Mark's confusion deepened. "What for?" He asked. "Besides, shouldn't they know that I've just lost my office to an explosion?" David's gaze darted around the room before settling back on Mark. "They've arranged to meet in the executive conference room of the Piccadilly Hotels." Mark sensed hesitation in David's voice and pressed on. "What else, David? There's more, isn't there?" David sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his words. "They've found out about the new
Jennet stepped out of the cab and gazed up at the restaurant's elegant facade, feeling a touch of nervous excitement. Charlie's text had invited her to meet him here, and she couldn't help but wonder what to expect. The upscale European theme and refined ambiance made her feel a little out of place, considering she had just returned from prison. As she entered, Charlie greeted her with a warm, charming smile, and her heart skipped a beat. "You look stunning, Jennet," he said, taking her hand and planting a small kiss on it. The gesture was old-fashioned and romantic, and Jennet couldn't help but blush. As they were led to their table, Jennet couldn't help but wonder how Charlie could afford such an expensive place. She smiled back at him, feeling a sense of doubt mixed with anticipation for what the afternoon might hold. He held out her seat for her and waited till she was comfortably sitting down before going over to his. He asked her how she was, and she didn't know when a sigh
Mark and David were sitting in David's office, discussing various business matters. Mark asked, "How are the plans for a new office space for me coming along?" David shook his head. "None for now, Mark. We're still looking for the right location and negotiating prices." Mark thought for a while, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Then, a sly smile spread across his face. "I have an idea," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. David raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?" Mark leaned forward, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "I think you would like the surprise better.” Mark arrived at the building complex, a sleek and modern structure that hosted a subsidiary of Bennet's company. He was here to meet with Tyrese, a friend who was renting the space to Bennet. They had agreed to meet in person over the phone. As Mark approached Tyrese, they shook hands firmly. Tyrese's expression turned sympathetic. "Sorry to hear about your building, Mark. That was a tough br
Mark walked through the front door, expecting some mild drama from Elena. And indeed, she greeted him with a cheerful "Welcome home, honey!" But Mark's expression turned stern, and he said, "Say that again." Elena's face scrunched up in confusion, and she recollected the instructions he had given her on her first night. Mark could almost see the thoughts racing through her mind. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she apologized, "I'm so sorry, Mark! I made a mistake. Welcome home, Mark." Mark didn't respond, his silence a clear indication of his displeasure. He walked past her, heading straight to his room, leaving Elena looking worried and uncertain. Mark climbed downstairs later, and the aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, guiding him to the dining table. Elena beamed with a wide smile as he approached. "I made your favorite, Mark! Spaghetti bolognese and oven-grilled chicken. And on the side, we have salad dressing, garlic bread,” she was going on. Mark cut he
Mark woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing. He reached over to his nightstand and saw Sergei's name flashing on the screen. He answered, his voice still husky from sleep. "What is it, Sergei?" Sergei's voice was firm and urgent. "Boss, we have a situation. News reporters are heading your way. They know about Elena coming back to your house." Mark sat up in bed, his mind racing. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the sleep. "How did they find out?" Sergei's response was grim. "I don't know, but we need to take precautions. I advise you to stay inside and not come out for the day." Mark snorted, his voice laced with amusement. "Don't be ridiculous, big guy. You know that's highly impossible. I have a business to run." Sergei's silence on the other end of the line was palpable. Mark could almost hear him thinking. Finally, Mark spoke up, his tone thoughtful. "I'll have to think smart.” The line went dead, and Mark tossed his phone aside. He swung his legs over the side of
Sergei called Mark's phone when he arrived at the tea house. Mark answered, and with a quick "I'm outside," he stepped out of the building. The sleek black mini-van, one of his father's many vehicles he had thought was useless, sat curbside, its door sliding open with a soft hiss. Mark climbed into the first row of seats, muttering under his breath, "Guess this car will serve a purpose after all." Sergei greeted him with a crisp "Morning, boss," as he pulled away from the curb, expertly navigating the vehicle through the crowded streets. Mark settled in, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as they left the suspicious duo and the chaos behind. Sergei handed Mark a drawstring bag containing the clothes he had requested, and then steered the car away from the curb. As they merged into the flow of traffic, Sergei caught Mark's eyes in the rearview mirror and asked, "Where to, boss?" Mark replied, "Igloo Commercial building. It's on 81st street." Sergei's eyebrow arched in surprise
When he arrived at David's office, Mark asked with a hint of amusement, "How are the rest of the board taking my rude affront on their fragile ego from the last meeting?" David chuckled. "They're still nursing their wounds. The board chairman has even threatened to leave with his shares in the company." Mark laughed heartily, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "That's nothing. If Baumerman wants to leave, he can leave. His measly seven percent will barely shake the company." David agreed, "I see your point, but what if the others leave as well? It could be a mass exodus, Mark." Mark shrugged nonchalantly, his confidence unwavering. "My father owns eighty percent of the shares in the company, twenty of which secretly belong to me until I'm ready to take the reins. If they pull out their shares, I'll simply buy them back, no questions asked." David's eyes narrowed, intrigued by the plan. "How do you intend to do that, Mark? You know as well as I do that buying back shares on that scale
EPILOGUE : A YEAR LATER The courtroom was filled with apprehension and tension. From a mile away, one could observe and note the seriousness of the faces, how enraptured they seemed to be. The silence in the courtroom could be broken by just a pin drop, and everyone was rapt with attention, staring at the judge, the jury, the hideous criminal with beautiful eyes, slender waist, a beautiful body and the prettiest of faces, but with a heart darker than the devil's. The entire city was out for her, and everybody in the room was dying for justice to take its course. The entire courtroom was filled to the brim, and even from the outside, people were peering through the windows. It was the largest court in the city, but the turn up had been so massive that people had to look from the windows. That was the kind of reception that Karen Shapiro had garnered. A lot of people had heard her story, the murders she had committed, and how she had controlled the underworld of crime. She wa
In the days that followed, Jenett Darius felt as if she was living in a dream. She could barely respond to questions that were thrown her way, and she knew it made the chief of police genuinely worried because of the agreement she had made to testify against Karen Shapiro in the court. How was she going to be able to do that when her purpose of living was no more? When her son was no more, the child that she had birthed hadn't even lived to experience the remorse that she was feeling? The removal of the guilt that had filled her chest by turning herself in? On a sunny Monday morning, she was shocked to find the chief of police opening the door to her cell. She jolted awake, and so did Margaret Woods. She had barely spoken to Margaret since she had heard the news of her son's death, and all she had wanted was for death to snatch her too. But no matter how much she wished for it, it never seemed to come. Death knew that it wasn't time for her to go, and it was playing its part by r
But Karen Shapiro was in no state to do what she had conjured in her mind. She was brought down by a simple Roundhouse kick, and her head was pinned to the floor as the cold metal of the handcuffs clamped on her wrists. Karen Shapiro was bundled back into her room, just like the common criminal she was. ********* When Mark Darius came to consciousness, he instantly found out that his side was hurting and that he was in a hospital. The dream he had been having was the same one that had tormented him during the previous nights, Karen Shapiro pursuing him endlessly with a knife, her screams making him terrified and making him perspire profusely. By the time he managed to sit up in the white, comfortable bed he was in, he was covered in a sheen of sweat. He also acknowledged immediately that the bed he was lying in wasn't his, and that his room didn't have a speck of blue in it. He had always been a green and orange color person from the start. And those were the colors that flound
When Karen Shapiro came to consciousness, the first thing she recognized was the continuous beeping of the heart monitor machine next to her and the needle that was in her skin. Her head felt as if it had been pounded upon severally and her eyes wanted to close of their own accord. Where was she? What had happened to her? For all she knew about her being in a blue and white room that stank of drugs and antiseptic, she knew within her that she was missing something. Something was wrong. She wasn't supposed to be in the room that she was, and she knew it. But she couldn't place it. At that same moment, the door opened, revealing a nurse in a white uniform that bore kind, brown eyes. Her hair was covered with a nursing cap, and when she smiled, it was cheerful and broad, seeming to light up the whole room. It made Karen Shapiro smile slightly even though she clearly didn't want to, even though her head felt as if a thousand nails had been drilled into it. The nurse proceeded
Swallowing, he spoke those dreaded words that Jenett Darius heard in her nightmares for days, those words that seemed to stick in her mind, that had left a firm imprint in her soul. “I'm afraid your son has been found dead amongst the bodies of the dead in the aftermath of the Splendid bar shooting. He was alive when the ambulance left the bar, but he was confirmed dead on arrival at the hospital. He died from several gunshot wounds.” He paused, and Jenett Darius could only hear the blood pounding in her ears and the hammering of her chest. She couldn't believe it, she was hoping it wasn't true. But it was reality, the cuffs on her hands were real and the chief was still standing in front of her. “I'm sorry that I'm the one that has come to you bearing this sad news, Miss Jenett. I wish I could take it back, but it has already happened.” When she didn't speak, he ventured further, touching her lightly on the shoulder. It was clear that he wanted her to say something, to at least
As soon as he struck Karen Shapiro on the head with the heavy box, he knew that he had only a few seconds before he would totally black out. And that was why without wasting a precious second, Mark Darius made his way to the phone in Derek Campton's hand. Without skipping a beat, he dialed the popular emergency line, his hands trembling. The amount of blood he had lost was going to determine if he got to live or not, and Mark Darius knew that he had lost quite a lot of blood. “911, what's your emergency?” Smiling, Mark Darius was slowly embracing the darkness that was enveloping him. He was fighting to stay alive, he was fighting death, the darkness, and even though it looked bleak, he was sure that he was going to win. He was going to say his location before the darkness enveloped him completely. It had been quite a long day, and Mark Darius wanted nothing more than to lay down and rest. He had been fighting a battle which he didn't know how it was going to turn out, and t
“I can drive you to the station. I believe one of the staff can help to look after Atticus. He's eating, and as far as food is involved, he's good to go.” Sergei stared at her, slightly worried. He was just a little bit different. Even in the urgency of the moment, he was rethinking things, making sure that he wasn't leaving out any detail. He was very observant, and she could see why Mark had maintained his service throughout the years. “Are you sure? You should rest, take a shower. I assure you that Mark will be alright. He knows how to take care of himself, fight his battles if you know what I mean.” She nodded, knowing that she would do anything to know that Mark was safe and sound. He had fought for Atticus, and it was up to her to do the same for him. She would gladly do it without blinking or hesitation. “I'm certain. I need to be sure that Mark is safe and that Karen hasn't killed him yet.” Sergei nodded, finally acknowledging her pleas to follow him. He had carefully c
She didn't know why, she couldn't fathom the reason. It was probably what she had deserved, but the fact that she had been so close to getting away hurt her everyday of her life. After she closed the box successfully, she turned around to see a smiling Mark Darius, the smaller of her boxes with its edges that were made of metal in his hands. And before she could move or raise her hands in defense, the box had been slammed on her head, sending her into a darkness she had never encountered throughout her life. ********** Farida Atticus stared at her son, then smiled. Out of everything that had happened to her in the past few weeks, he seemed to be the only good thing that had emerged from it all. For the fact that he had managed to come out of the devil's lair that was Karen Shapiro's home unshattered and unharmed, there was every reason for her to be happy. Yes, her life had been a mess because of love, but there was one thing Farida found herself acknowledging. She st
But it was clear that Mark Darius was having none of it. His mind was made up, and he stared at her, his gun very much active in his hand. He was going to use it, no matter what she said. “I can give you the contract right now.” Mark Darius smiled instead, as if he knew of her plans to bolt and do something unpredictable like she had done a few minutes ago. He looked purely ready for her, her antics and whatever she was going to try next. “You should've thought about that before trying to shoot me, Karen Shapiro.” And with those words, he fired. It was a single shot, and the bullet pierced her upper arm in a jolt that sent her to the floor, holding her now bleeding hand. At that moment, Mark Darius let out a cry. He had fallen to the floor, and the gun was out of his hand. Staring at him in pain, Karen Shapiro could see that he was in pain. He was clutching his side, his knuckles completely white. Despite her bleeding arm, the sight of Mark Darius in pain seemed to give her st