EPISODE FIVE
1137 Words
FIND HER.
Amos rolled the obsidian bracelet around in his fingers as he sat on the side of the bed. The cool morning air felt good against his bare skin. The black, smooth stones were on their polished surfaces as the morning light fell on them. He didn't notice the bracelet on her last night until he woke up to an empty bed and saw it on the bedsheets where she had slept.
The woman was gone.
Not a trace of her lingered except for the faint scent of something soft and familiar—vanilla, maybe. He frowned. He never let things slip through his fingers, yet she had disappeared before he even learned her name.
Unacceptable.
His jaw tensed. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. The call was answered on the second ring.
“Yes, sir?” John Davis’s voice was firm and professional. Always dependable.
“I need you to find someone,” Amos said, his gaze fixed on the bracelet.
A pause. Then, “I assume there are details?”
“Not many,” Amos exhaled sharply. "He wasn’t used to working with little details. “A woman. She was in my suite last night.”
“She left before you woke up?”
“Yes.” His fingers curled around the bracelet. “But she left something behind.”
John’s silence was brief. “What do we have to work with?”
Amos glanced toward the security panel on the nightstand. “The hotel has cameras. Get the footage. Find out when she arrived, what room she booked, and most importantly, her name.”
John hesitated. “Would you like me to be discreet about this search?”
“Of course.” Amos’s voice was firm. “No one should know.”
He didn’t chase women. He didn’t have to.
But here he was, ordering a full investigation over a woman who had sneaked out before sunrise.
John didn’t question him further. “I’ll get started immediately.”
The call ended, but Amos didn’t move. His gaze dropped back to the bracelet, a strange sense of intrigue coiling in his chest.
Who was she?
And why did she feel like something he wasn’t meant to let go?
John worked fast. By the afternoon, he had something.
Amos sat in his office, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the hotel footage on his tablet. A woman in a dark dress, her movements unsteady, her face barely visible as she slipped into his suite.
“Her name?” Amos asked, voice low.
John placed a copy of the guest log on the desk. A single name was scribbled there.
Maureen Johnson.
Amos traced the letters with his thumb, something unfamiliar tightening in his chest.
She had run from him.
But now, she was within his reach.
And he had no intention of letting her disappear again.
_____
Maureen walked through the streets, her steps heavy and her mind blank. Everywhere she turned, the weight of her ruined reputation followed. Once, she had a future, a steady job and a place in high society. Now, she had nothing.
The scandal had spread like wildfire. Former friends ignored her, doors that were once open were slammed shut in her face. Vivian had made it clear—she was no longer welcome at home. Maureen had tried to fight, to explain, but no one wanted the truth.
The whispers never stopped.
"She seduced Mr. Clems for money."
"No wonder George left her. She’s shameless."
"A woman like that doesn’t deserve mercy or a second chance."
Maureen tightened her fists as she walked past the café where she and Celine used to sit, laughing over coffee. Now, Celine had everything—her engagement to George intact, her reputation glowing, while Maureen was cast aside like trash.
She had nowhere left to turn.
Her savings were nearly gone, her landlord had already given her a final warning, and job offers? Not anymore. No company wanted to be associated with a person involved in a scandal.
I can’t live like this.
The thought had been creeping into her mind for days. At first, she had brushed it off, but now, the idea sank deep into her. If the world wouldn’t give her a second chance, she would take one herself.
She needed protection. A way out.
A contract marriage.
Rich men did it all the time—cold, powerful men who needed a wife for convenience, for business, for power. And she? She needed stability.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even about happiness. It was for survival.
Maureen straightened herself, swallowing back the lump in her throat. She had heard stories of women who secured contract marriages, of billionaires who cared only for an agreement on paper. All she had to do was find someone willing to make a deal.
With a firm determination, she turned down a street lined with luxury hotels. Her best chance was at high-end bars where the wealthy gathered. She had no real plan—just a desperate hope that someone, or anyone, would take the offer.
She stepped into a fancy, dimly lit lounge, looking around the room. The scent of expensive whiskey and cigar smoke filled the air. Men in tailored suits sat in quiet corners, speaking in low tones about business and power.
This was the kind of place where deals were made.
Maureen took a deep breath and moved to the bar, ordering a drink she could barely afford. She needed confidence. She needed to look like she belonged.
A deep voice beside her nearly made her spill her drink.
"Looking for someone?"
She turned, her heart startling. The man beside her was tall, his presence commanding, his dark eyes sharp and unreadable.
She swallowed. "That depends. Are you someone worth finding?"
He smirked slightly, amusement flickering his eyes. "That depends? What exactly are you looking for?"
Maureen hesitated. This was it. She had to do it. She had to make her offer, no matter how insane it sounded.
"A husband."
The man stilled, his expression unreadable. "A husband?"
"Not in normal traditional marriage ," she clarified, gripping her glass tighter. A contract. A business arrangement. I need a powerful man to marry me. In exchange, I can offer—"
"And what exactly do you have to offer?"
The question cut through her, but she refused to back down. "Loyalty. Discretion. A wife who won’t interfere with your life."
He studied her, his gaze dark and piercing. Then, to her surprise, he leaned closer.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Maureen's pulse pounded. "Does that mean—"
"You don’t even know me, do you?"
A charged silence settled between them.
And as she looked into his eyes, she saw a strange familiarity that sent an unsettling shiver down her spine.
- Writer
