CHAPTER 4
1001 Words
Morning sunlight filtered weakly through the blinds of Kamila’s small apartment, but it did little to brighten her mood. She sat on the edge of her bed, John’s cryptic words from the other day still circling in her mind.
You own shares in Odell Industries…
“That guy must be crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head as if she could rattle the thought away.
She stood, lightly slapping her cheeks. “Focus, Kamila. You just lost your job. Now is not the time to chase nonsense.”
With a deep breath, she headed for the shower. Ten minutes later, steam still clinging to her skin, she emerged in a dark blue shirt and matching suit. She’d spotted a vacancy post on MAC Cosmetics’ website—a salesgirl position—and decided to try her luck.
Locking the door behind her, she stepped into the warm Miami air, hailing cabs with a raised hand. A yellow taxi pulled up after two minutes.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“MAC Cosmetics,” she replied, sliding into the back seat.
The twenty-minute ride gave her time to gather herself. By the time the cab stopped in front of the sleek, glass-fronted building, Kamila’s nerves had settled—mostly. Inside, the store was bright and modern, with glossy floors, elegant shelves, and an intoxicating scent of high-end perfumes. Customers browsed with leisurely smiles, oblivious to the weight pressing on her shoulders.
She approached a salesgirl whose name tag read Emily.
“Hi,” Kamila said politely, “I’m here for the salesgirl job interview.”
Emily’s smile was warm. “Oh, you’re here for that? My boss isn’t in yet, but you can wait for him. Please, have a seat.”
Kamila nodded and followed her to a seating area. Minutes dragged into hours, her eyelids growing heavy. Finally, after nearly three hours, Emily returned.
“Ma’am, he’s back and ready to see you.”
Kamila stood, smoothing her clothes, and followed her into the office—only to freeze. Behind the polished mahogany desk sat John.
For a moment, neither spoke. Kamila’s pulse quickened. Memories of their last encounter, of her sharp tone toward him, rushed back in uncomfortable clarity.
John kept his eyes on his computer. “Give me your résumé,” he said flatly.
She handed it over.
“So your name is…” He looked down, then up—his brows lifting. “Kamila? What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the job,” she replied quietly.
He leaned back in his chair, laughing under his breath. “Why work here when you own shares in Odell Industries? Go take your rightful position there.”
Her voice hardened. “If you don’t want to give me the job, just say so. I’ll leave.”
Still smirking, John asked, “If I hire you, will you still talk to me like that?”
“Of course not.”
He extended his hand. “Then you’re hired.”
Surprise flickered across her face before she reached out to shake his hand.
“You start tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
As she left, John’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure, his expression unreadable.
Back at her apartment, Kamila sat on her bed, stunned. Why is he so insistent about Odell Industries? And why does it feel like there’s something he’s not telling me?
Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. It was Sofia—the nanny caring for her younger brothers, Henry and Joseph.
“Hello?”
“Henry and Joseph weren’t allowed in school today,” Sofia said, worry in her voice. “The fees still aren’t paid.”
Kamila’s chest tightened. “Don’t worry. I’ll send something soon. I just got a job—once I’m paid, I’ll send more.”
After hanging up, she checked her account balance. Her savings were down to scraps, but she transferred the last of it to Sofia. Guess I’ll go hungry for a while, she thought bitterly.
A sudden knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
She frowned. Who would be here this late?
When she opened the door, a dark cloth bag was shoved over her head. Pain exploded at the side of her skull, and the world went black.
Strong hands lifted her limp body, carrying her out into the night. They loaded her into a waiting black truck, its engine rumbling low.
From across the street, Josh—leaning against the wall with a beer in hand—saw everything. The kidnappers, focused on their task, never noticed him.
Heart pounding, Josh ducked behind thick bushes and pulled out his phone.
“This is 911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.
He spoke quickly, explaining what he had seen.
Minutes later, sirens wailed. Police swarmed Kamila’s building, cordoning off the area, collecting evidence, and photographing the scene. Her apartment was now a crime scene.
At the police station, Detective Grimes sat at his desk across from his partner, James, flipping through paperwork. An officer approached and dropped a file in front of them.
“What’s this?” Grimes asked.
“Your next case,” the officer said.
James frowned. “Since when do you hand us jobs?”
“I was told to deliver it,” the officer shrugged.
Grimes opened the file, scanning the photos inside. “Possible forced entry and kidnapping. Not sure if it’s homicide yet.”
His eyes froze on a photo. “I know this girl.”
James glanced over. “From where?”
“I saw her in a driveway the other day. She looked… troubled.”
James grabbed his coat. “If she seemed worried then, she’s in a lot more trouble now.”
Grimes’s jaw tightened. “I tried to help her, but she wouldn’t listen. I just hope we’re not too late.”
The two detectives headed out, their car slicing through the night toward Kamila’s last known address
- Writer
