CHAPTER SIX: The trap tightens
1135 Words
Savannah’s hand trembled as she held the phone, staring at the black screen where Lily’s terrified eyes had just been. Her pulse thundered in her ears. The wineglass Adrian handed her moments ago slipped from her grasp, shattering on the rooftop floor.
Adrian caught her just as her knees buckled. “What happened?”
She wordlessly passed him the phone. His eyes narrowed as he watched the video. The mechanical voice echoed in his memory: “Back off. Or she dies.”
Adrian turned on his heel, already barking into his phone. “Marco, full lockdown. Get our team to Lily’s last known location. No one gets in or out of this building without clearance.”
Savannah wrapped her arms around herself, her body shaking with adrenaline and fear. “They have her. Because of me.”
“No,” Adrian said firmly, turning to her. “Because of him. Marcus is escalating this.”
“He’s not just coming for your empire,” she whispered. “He’s coming for the people I love.”
---
Inside the penthouse, chaos reigned in silence. Adrian’s security team swept the place, triple-checked encryption on all devices, and rerouted calls through private networks. Savannah sat on the edge of the sofa, phone clutched tight, staring at the last frame of Lily’s horrified face.
Marco approached. “We tracked the signal to a burner phone, triangulated near the docks—South Street Seaport. Abandoned warehouses. Classic setup.”
“Send a team,” Adrian ordered.
“Already on it.”
“But don’t go in blind,” Savannah interjected. “They’re expecting us to panic.”
Adrian nodded. “Which means this is more than just a k********g. It’s bait.”
Savannah stood. “Then let’s use it against them.”
---
Later that night, the warehouse loomed over the docks, silent and grim under the moonlight. Adrian’s team had eyes on all exits, with surveillance drones circling above. Savannah stayed behind in the surveillance van, listening to every word through Marco’s comms.
Marco’s voice crackled over the headset. “Movement detected. Southeast corner. Heat signatures—two. No visual on Lily.”
Savannah leaned in closer, eyes darting between the camera feeds.
“Switching to thermal,” one of the techs said. “Got her. Far corner, tied to a chair. Heart rate elevated.”
“She’s alive,” Savannah breathed. Relief and terror warred in her chest.
Adrian’s voice came through the comm. “Team Alpha, on me. Quiet breach. Get her out.”The extraction took less than three minutes.
Lily was unconscious but unharmed—no physical injuries. Just a sedative.
But something wasn’t right.
Savannah saw it in Adrian’s face as they returned to the van.
“She was left too easily,” he said.
“Set up?” Savannah asked.
Adrian nodded. “They wanted us distracted.”
Back at the penthouse, they discovered what?
Marco greeted them with a grim expression. “The system was breached. Only for five minutes—but enough. They bypassed the penthouse servers and downloaded classified corporate memos. Including the updated media contract files.”
Adrian swore under his breath. “They’ll use that to forge the narrative.”
Savannah shook her head. “What narrative?”
Marco brought up the news feed on the giant screen.
A breaking news headline glared in bold red:
"CEO Adrian Drake in Scandalous Love Affair with Ex-Model Turned Stylist. Shareholders Question Merger Ethics."
The screen displayed photos of Adrian and Savannah from various events. Carefully selected, skillfully timed—turning intimacy into accusation.
Savannah stepped back. “They flipped the story.”
Adrian’s face was unreadable. “Marcus wants me discredited. If my integrity is compromised, the board might vote me out.”
Savannah’s voice cracked. “And I’ll be painted as the gold-digging distraction.”
---
That night, Savannah sat alone in the guest room. She couldn’t sleep—not when the world outside was unraveling. Her boutique was wrecked. Lily was drugged and traumatized. The press was painting her as a manipulator.
And Marcus had orchestrated it all.
She picked up the porcelain ballerina doll again. The flash drive was still hidden inside, but she had a hunch there was more to find.
She turned the doll over.
There—a faint seam behind the base.
She pried it open gently.
A folded photograph fell into her palm.
It was of Bianca.
Smiling.
Standing next to Dominic Laskin.
Arm in arm.
The date in the corner was from three weeks ago.
Savannah’s eyes widened. Bianca was alive—but not hiding.
She was working with Marcus and Dominic.
---
In the war room, Savannah placed the photo in front of Adrian.
“She lied to you. Bianca didn’t run. She defected.”
Adrian stared at the photo, his jaw tight. “Why?”
“I think... I think she was part of it from the beginning. The engagement, the press leaks. Maybe she was the bridge between Marcus and Dominic.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “She played me. Used me to build my brand while planning to ruin it.”
Savannah touched his arm. “We have to end this. Together.”
---
The next day, they hosted a press conference.
Adrian stood beside Savannah, unwavering.
“The rumors are false,” he said. “The woman beside me is not a distraction. She is my partner—in business and life. And the attacks against her are not only slanderous but criminal.”
Savannah spoke next. Calm. Direct. “I will not be intimidated by threats nor silenced by fear. We have proof of a conspiracy. And we are turning it over to the authorities.”
They didn’t name Marcus. Not yet.
But the message was clear.
They weren’t backing down.
---
That night, Adrian’s phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered on speaker.
Bianca’s voice.
“Adrian. You shouldn’t have gone public.”
Savannah froze.
“You’re alive,” Adrian said flatly.
“And you’ve made a mistake,” Bianca continued. “You think Marcus is the mastermind? He’s not. He’s just a pawn.”
“Then who?” Adrian demanded.
Silence.
Then:
“Check the numbers. Your father’s death wasn’t natural. And Dominic Laskin isn’t who he claims to be.”
Click.
The line went dead.
---
Savannah and Adrian exchanged a look.
A deeper game was being played.
And someone else was pulling the strings.
Marco burst into the room, face pale.
“You need to see this.”
He handed Savannah a manila envelope just dropped at the penthouse door.
She opened it.
Inside
Another photo.
Her father.
Tied to a chair.
Eyes closed.
The message written beneath in red:
“Round two begins. Let’s see how you perform under pressure.”
—
- Writer
