The truth about Richard
667 Words
Jane woke up to darkness.
Not the gentle kind of darkness that comes with nightfall, but the heavy, suffocating kind that felt deliberate—engineered. Her wrists ached before she even tried to move. When she did, metal bit into her skin.
Chains.
Her breath hitched instantly.
She tried to sit up, but the small room answered her movement with a cold echo. Concrete. Damp air. No windows. Only a single flickering bulb above her head buzzed like it was struggling to stay alive.
She was not in the mansion.
She was not safe.
And Richard was not here.
The realization settled slowly, like something sinking underwater.
Footsteps echoed outside the door.
Jane froze.
The door opened.
Light spilt in, sharp and brief, and she instinctively turned her face away. A shadow stepped inside and closed it behind him.
“You’re awake,” a voice said.
Calm. Controlled. Familiar in a way that made her stomach tighten.
Not Richard.
Someone else.
Jane didn’t answer.
The man stepped closer, crouching slightly so he was at her eye level. He studied her like she was a problem he had already solved.
“You were never the target,” he said quietly. “That’s the funny part.”
Jane’s throat was dry. “Then why am I here?”
A pause.
“Because Richard Ashford reacts when something he considers his is taken.”
The words hit harder than fear.
He thinks you belong to him.
Jane pulled back slightly, the chains clinking. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
The man almost smiled.
“That’s not how he defines it.
Footsteps echoed again outside. More than one person this time.
The man stood.
“You should know something before he finds you,” he added, almost casually. “This isn’t the first time Richard has lost someone.”
Jane’s chest tightened. “What are you talking about?”
But he was already turning toward the door.
“Ask him about his family,” he said. “If he survives long enough to tell you.”
Then he left.
The door shut.
Darkness returned.
And silence pressed in harder than before.
Miles away, Richard stood in the centre of his operations room.
Screens surrounded him. Live feeds. Maps. Signal traces. Movement tracking. Every piece of the city was torn apart in data.
But none of it mattered.
Jane was still missing.
A technician approached carefully. “Sir… we traced a lead. The attackers weren’t random.”
Richard didn’t look up. “I know.”
The room went still.
“They were sent,” the technician continued. “By remnants of the old organization. The same one connected to your family.”
That made Richard stop.
Slowly, he turned.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop with him.
“Say that again.”
The technician swallowed. “The group that destroyed your family… they’re active again. And they’ve confirmed you’re their target.”
Richard’s expression didn’t change.
But something inside it did.
Cold. Controlled. Familiar.
Then his voice came—quiet, sharp.
“They didn’t take me.”
A pause.
“They took Jane.”
No one responded.
Because everyone in the room understood what that meant.
This was no longer protection.
It was escalation.
Back in the underground room, Jane shifted slightly, testing the chains again. Useless. Every movement reminded her how trapped she was.
But something else was changing, too.
Fear wasn’t the only thing settling in now.
Questions were.
Why her?
Why did that man’s words—“belong to him”?
And who exactly was Richard Ashford when no one was watching?
The door opened again.
Different man this time.
He didn’t speak. Just looked at her, then turned slightly to the side.
“Boss wants her alive,” he muttered.
Another voice from outside answered.
“For now.”
Jane went still.
Because now she understood something very clearly.
She wasn’t just kidn*pped.
She was bait.
And somewhere out there, Richard was already coming.
- Writer
