THE MYSTERIOUS CALL
913 Words
Lola’s phone kept ringing in her hand, cutting through the quiet night like it wanted her attention and wouldn’t let go. The park was almost empty, cold, barely lit. She stared at the screen. Unknown Number. Her thumb hovered above the button, thinking maybe she’d just let it ring out. Not tonight. Not after all that had happened. Her nerves were worn raw from the looks, the whispers, the calls from strangers asking about the scandal everyone in the city now seemed to know. She just wanted quiet.
But something about this call felt planned. The timing was too strange. Her mind jumped back to the message she’d gotten earlier: If you want revenge, meet me tomorrow.
Her pulse sped up. Still, the phone rang again. And again. Eventually, Lola gave in and pressed answer, holding the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.
There was nothing for a second. Just silence. It went on long enough to make her uneasy, then suddenly—
“Miss Lola Hart?”
A man’s voice. Calm. Deep. Measured—like he’d thought through each word before letting it out.
She frowned. “Yes.”
Another pause. Not awkward. More like he was weighing her response, trying to read her through the phone.
“Good.”
Something about how he spoke made her sit up straighter. Not exactly nice, not harsh either, but respectful—as if he had all the facts about her already.
She glanced around the empty park. “Who is this?”
Leaves rustled overhead. Still, he didn’t answer. Instead, he threw his own question at her.
“Miss Hart, are you alone?”
That put her on edge. Lola scanned the park. Streetlamp. Deserted sidewalk. Trees shifting in the dark. She hesitated, then said, “Yes. Why?”
“Good.”
He sounded so sure, so at ease, that it unsettled her.
“Who are you?” she said again, sharper this time. “You called me first.”
“My name is Victor Hale.”
The name meant nothing to her. Lola’s frown deepened. “I don’t know anyone named Victor Hale.”
“I know. That’s why I’m calling.”
She gripped the phone tighter. “So, how do you know me?”
For the first time, Victor’s voice softened just a little. “I’ve known about you for a long time, Miss Hart.”
That sent a chill down Lola’s spine. “What do you mean?”
The wind kicked up, colder now.
“Answer me something first,” Victor said, still calm. “Did you enjoy the party tonight?”
The question caught her off guard. She sat up straight. Her heart jabbed at her ribs. “How did you—”
She stopped herself. Of course he knew. The scandal was everywhere now.
He went on, not waiting for her to finish. “Being humiliated in front of hundreds must have been rough.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
Images flashed in her mind—Vanessa’s smug grin, Daniel’s icy voice. Never.
She shut her eyes tight, then opened them. “I don’t want your pity.”
“Good. I’m not giving any.”
That surprised her. He kept going, voice even and steady.
“What happened tonight was necessary.”
She opened her eyes. “What?”
“A necessary step. So you’d finally see the truth.”
She felt her stomach knot. “I don’t understand.”
“You will.” Victor’s tone turned lower, careful. “But first, one more thing—did Daniel Carter ever tell you about your real family?”
The question hit her like a slap. “My family?”
“Yes.”
“My parents died when I was little.”
“That’s what you were told.”
Her pulse raced.
“What are you saying?”
Victor didn’t miss a beat. “Daniel Carter knew the truth about you long before he married you.”
She squeezed the phone. “No. That’s impossible.”
He didn’t flinch. “He knew exactly who you are.”
She shook her head, voice unsteady. “No, you’re wrong.”
But a small pit of doubt formed inside her. Then he said, “And he never told you.”
Wind hummed in the trees, low and cold.
“Why?” she managed.
Without a pause, Victor replied, “Because the moment you knew the truth, you’d realize he was never good enough for you.”
Lola stopped breathing for a second. The park felt smaller. Every sound pressed in.
“What truth?” she spit out.
Silence. Longer this time. Then, finally—
“Miss Hart, everything you lost tonight was never really yours.”
Her thoughts spun. “My marriage?”
“Yes.”
“My home?”
“Yes.”
“My child—” Her voice cracked.
Victor stayed quiet. She swallowed.
“What are you saying?”
Now he sounded perfectly steady, deliberate. “Your life rests on a lie.”
Lola stared into the night. None of this made sense.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because it’s time.”
Her chest pulled tight. “Time for what?”
The wind pushed through the trees again like it wanted her attention. Victor’s voice broke the silence, calm and certain.
“Miss Hart… it’s time to come home.”
- Writer
