Elena sat in her room, still sulking over the suffocating restrictions Mark had placed on her. She felt like she was living in a prison, with no privacy and constantly walking on eggshells. She regretted hurting Mark in the past and wished she had been wiser at the time. As she sat there, she couldn't help but think about the extreme measures she had to take that morning just to have a bath. Covering up all the windows and doors, even hanging blankets over the shower cubicle, just to feel somewhat secure. It was humiliating. She sighed and stood up, knowing she had to face her reality. She opened her door and, as expected, a guard was standing in the hallway, his face expressionless as he watched her. Elena rolled her eyes and proceeded down the stairs, feeling like a prisoner under house arrest. She could feel the heat of the guard's eyes on her back as she walked away, his gaze piercing and unyielding. Elena felt a surge of frustration and resentment, wondering how long it would
Mark stood in the emptying lobby of David's office building, impatiently waiting for Johnson to arrive with his car, when his phone rang. He took it out, and there was a hint of irritation in his voice as he asked, "Who's this?" "Boss, I'm Mensah. I'm on your security detail. There's been a little incident at the house, boss." Mark rolled his eyes, wondering what that had to do with the fact that he was being kept waiting. "Is that the reason why I'm yet to see neither Johnson nor my car? Look, if this is about Elena, it can wait till I get home." Mensah said, "About Johnson, sir, he's in a bad way." Mark impatiently asked, "What do you mean in a bad way? What's wrong with my car?" Mensah said, "There was an explosive device tagged to the car. Nearly claimed Johnson's life, but we're taking him to the hospital. We hope he makes it, boss." Mark's mind was reeling from the information. "Wait, slow down. There was an explosion?" His mind struggled to register what he had heard. "Me
Mark had left David in the room and stepped out into the hallway, his mind set on getting his father discharged from the hospital. "I need to speak with a doctor immediately. I'm moving my father home," he told the nurse firmly. The nurse protested weakly, "But he needs some more time to heal." Mark cut her off decisively, "It's not up for discussion. My father leaves here tonight." The doctor hurried in, looking concerned. "Mr. Darius Junior, I'm not sure checking your father out so early is going to be good for his recovery process. His wounds are still healing," he said, his voice laced with worry. Mark stood firm, his resolve unwavering. "He's fine enough to leave. You may send a nurse along with us tonight. I'll make arrangements for a doctor to commence home treatment, starting from tomorrow morning. But he's done here." The doctor sighed resignedly. "I guess we can't change your mind then." With a small smile, he turned to Gabriel and said, "You were my favorite patient."
Jennet snuggled deeper into Charlie's embrace, feeling loved and wanted once more after Gabriel's harsh rejection. Her conscience whispered reminders of her past mistakes, trying to cheat Gabriel's son out of his inheritance. Who wouldn't be furious about that? Charlie's gentle kiss on the small side of her neck sent shivers down her spine, distracting her from her guilt. Charlie was unrecognizable from the man she remembered. His touch was now laced with newfound finesse, his bedroom skills honed to perfection. Jennet fell deeply in love with the man he had become. She felt a sense of wisdom in her choice to make love without protection, silently praying to every feminine deity that she would be blessed with fertility, hoping to bind Charlie closer to her with a child. Charlie gazed into Jennet's eyes, his voice filled with sincerity. "I love you, Jenny." She smiled, her heart skipping a beat. "I love you too." He flipped her over, his lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. Then, he
Mark walked into David's office, the door closing behind him with a soft click. David, seated behind his desk, greeted him with a warm smile. "Top of the morning to you, Mark." Mark nodded, his expression serious, and took a seat across from David. David leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. "You really surprised me with your move on Bennet's building, Mark. I didn't think you had it in you." Mark's lips curled into a hint of a smile. "Told you I had some good tricks up my sleeves." His expression turned somber, and he sighed heavily. "I've just returned from the hospital. My driver, Johnson, will live, so the doctor says." David nodded sympathetically. "That's good news, Mark. I'm glad to hear it." David's voice brought Mark back to reality. "Speaking of payments, I reached out to your secretary's family. They weren't entirely cooperative and vowed not to have anything to do with you or your family, ever again." Mark's gaze dropped to his feet, his express
Brown sat in his prison cell, feeling lonely and helpless. He was angry and resentful, hating the system that had kept him imprisoned for no reason. He thought about his mother, wondering why she hadn't visited or sent news. The glaring lack of evidence added to his frustration. Brown felt trapped, a victim of circumstance, his heart seething with hatred for those who had wronged him. The darkness of his cell seemed to be closing in, a physical manifestation of his hopelessness. His anger and frustration simmered, waiting for a spark to ignite his defiance. He was a man wronged, and he knew it. The question was, what would he do about it? Brown sat in his cell, lost in thought, until the warden's harsh knock on the door broke the silence. "Browny boy, you have a visitor," he said, his voice firm. Brown followed the warden, hoping it was his mother, but instead of leading him to the visitor's area, they headed towards an interrogation room. Brown's confusion grew, but he remained s
Bennet sat at his desk, surrounded by stacks of papers and account statements, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was desperate to reconcile the deficits in his balances before the month ended, knowing that he had to present a solid financial report to Bill Baummerman if he wanted to keep his promises. He had to lay off some of his workers, including his secretary. “Well, she was incompetent anyway, “he justified his actions to himself. As he poured over the numbers, Bennet couldn't shake the feeling that he was drowning in debt. The company was struggling, and he was running out of options. Bennet sat at his desk, surrounded by stacks of papers and account statements, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was desperate to reconcile the deficits in his balances before the month ended, knowing that he had to present a solid financial report to Bill Baummerman if he wanted to keep his promises. Just as he was starting to make sense of the numbers, he heard a knock on the door.
Mark sat in David's office, alone, surrounded by the familiar scent of old books and stale air. He sifted through the files he had picked up from the bank, sensitive documents his father had insured. David had stepped out earlier to help his wife with an unplanned bulk grocery order, and Mark couldn't help but smile at the memory of the way David tried to downplay the fact that he enjoyed his wife's company, even in mundane tasks like grocery shopping. As he delved deeper into the files, Mark's mind wandered to his own parents. He tried to recall what they were like when he was younger, but the memories were too vague, shrouded in a haze of time. He waved the thoughts off sadly, his eyes refocusing on the papers in front of him. The documents were a reminder of his father's meticulous nature, and Mark's heart swelled with a mix of emotions; nostalgia, longing, and a hint of regret. His phone rang, and he picked it up, a smile spreading across his face as he saw the caller ID. "Talk
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