Running for my life

The Stranger in the Office

Chapter Four

Rochelle stood frozen in place, staring at the woman who had just walked into her uncle's office. The air felt heavy, thick with something she couldn't name. She watched as the woman moved slowly around the desk, her eyes never leaving Rochelle's face.

"You really shouldn't be in here," the woman said, her voice calm but edged with warning. "There's a lot you shouldn't be looking at—especially now, especially after what you saw today."

Rochelle's blood ran cold. The woman's stare seemed to pierce straight through her, as if she could see every thought, every fear. What did this woman know? Rochelle's gaze flicked downward, and her breath caught. The woman was in the photograph on the desk—standing beside her uncle, smiling. But how? Rochelle had never seen her before.

Questions swirled in her mind, but before she could speak, the woman sank gracefully into her uncle's chair. A cold smile curved her lips.

"You won't remember me," she said softly, "but I remember you. My name is Catalonia. I was a friend of your mother and father."

Rochelle's heart pounded. Her father had died years ago, and no one ever spoke of him. She stared at Catalonia, unsure what to say, unsure what to believe.

Catalonia leaned forward, her expression darkening. "Things are not as they seem. Soon, you'll understand everything. But for now, you must stay away from this—stay calm, stay in the house."

"Why?" Rochelle asked, her voice trembling. "What's happening?"

Catalonia didn't answer. Instead, she stood, smoothing the front of her coat. As she reached the door, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. The faintest trace of a smile touched her lips.

"We'll see each other again soon," she said.

Then she was gone, leaving Rochelle alone in the silence of her uncle's office, the echo of her words lingering like a chill in the air.

After the strange encounter, Rochelle felt drained from the day that had passed. Her hands trembled as she turned the key in the lock, securing her uncle's office behind her. The hallway felt colder than before, the shadows stretching longer along the walls. She climbed the stairs to her room, not bothering to change out of her clothes. The moment her head touched the pillow, exhaustion pulled her under, and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When she woke, the morning light filtered weakly through the curtains. For a moment, she almost believed it had all been a dream. But the memory of Catalonia's voice soft, haunting echoed in her mind. Rochelle rose slowly, her body heavy, and made her way to the bathroom. The hot water from the shower did little to wash away the unease that clung to her.

Back in her room, she sat at her dressing table, staring at her reflection. Her eyes looked different tired, uncertain, almost like a stranger's. Who was that woman? Why had she been in the house last night? And what did she mean about her father?

Rochelle's thoughts spiraled as she traced the edge of the bruise on her face with her fingertips. The house felt alive around her, whispering secrets she couldn't quite hear. She wondered how she would ever escape this place, this house of nightmares that seemed to hold her tighter with every passing hour.

Jonathan's POV

I had never been particularly fond of my family. Truthfully, I had never been close to any of them except for my twin brother, Jake. As kids, we did everything together. We were inseparable, two halves of the same whole. But that changed as we grew older. Life pulled us in different directions, and the bond that once defined us began to fray.

Now, sitting across from him in my office, the silence between us felt heavier than ever. Jake's eyes were fixed on me, sharp and unreadable, while I stared back, wondering how we had ended up here. I knew something had to change. I couldn't keep living this life—their life. If I truly wanted to keep Rochelle in mine, I had to walk away from all of it: my family, my brother, everything that tied me to this world.

But first, I had to get her out. Away from this place. Away from the chaos that surrounded both our families. The question was—where could I take her that they wouldn't find us? And how could I protect her from the madness of her own bloodline?

Jake looked up from the stack of paperwork on my desk, catching me lost in thought. His lips curved into a smile dark, cold, and unfamiliar. It wasn't the smile of the brother I once knew. It was the kind of smile that made people cross the street to avoid him. Years under our father's shadow had twisted him into something else, something dangerous. Maybe things would have been different if our father had been a good man. But he wasn't. He never was.

I still didn't understand why Jake had called me to my office tonight. The work he claimed we needed to finish had already been done hours ago. Yet here we were, sitting in the dim light, the air thick with unspoken tension. He knew I hated this life the deals, the lies, the constant threat of violence. And still, he kept me here.

The clock on the wall ticked louder with every passing second. Finally, I exhaled, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. Enough was enough.

"Jake," I said quietly, breaking the silence. "What's really going on here?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying me with that same unsettling smile.

"You've changed, brother," he said finally. "You've been distracted. Ever since her."

Rochelle. Even hearing her name in his voice made my stomach tighten.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, though I already knew.

Jake's eyes glinted with something between amusement and warning. "You think you can just walk away? From us? From him?"

Our father. The man who controlled everything. The man who would never let me go.

I clenched my fists under the desk. "I'm done, Jake. I mean it this time."

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "You don't get to be done, Jonathan. Not in this family."

The words hung in the air like a sentence. I realized then that leaving wouldn't be as simple as walking away. If I wanted to save Rochelle—and myself—I'd have to do more than leave. I'd have to fight.

And for the first time in my life, I was ready to.