vengeance

The contract

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the curtains, waking Charlotte. Her first thought was Ryan and his injured hand. A wave of guilt washed over her. She needed to check on him.

She walked to his door and knocked softly. No answer. She knocked again, a little louder. Still nothing. A worried frown creased her forehead. Hesitantly, she turned the handle. The door wasn't locked.

"Ryan?" she called gently as she peeked inside. The room was quiet and still. She stepped in slowly. The bed was empty. "Ryan, are you here?" she asked, her voice a bit louder now. She glanced towards the bathroom, the door slightly open. "Ryan?" She pushed the door wider. Empty. He wasn't there. A knot of worry tightened in her chest. Where could he have gone?

Just as Charlotte's worry started to grow, their maid rushed into the room, breathless and looking terrified.

"Madam... Mr. Ryan..." she gasped, clutching her chest.

"Mr. Ryan what?" Charlotte asked, her heart suddenly pounding.

"He..." the maid stammered, unable to get the words out.

"Tell me!" Charlotte urged, her voice tight with fear.

The maid finally managed to speak, tears welling in her eyes. "He... he was in an accident... we just got a call... he's gone.”

Charlotte's breath hitched, her heart seizing in her chest as if gripped by a cold hand. "What the hell are you saying?" she choked out, the words barely a whisper, refusing to accept the horrifying pronouncement.

Without waiting for a response, a primal fear propelling her, she turned and fled the room, her bare feet pounding against the wooden floor as she rushed down the stairs. The scene that greeted her in the living room confirmed her worst fears. Ryan's parents were there, their faces buried in their hands, their bodies wracked with sobs that echoed in the sudden silence of the house. Tears streamed down their faces, a raw display of grief that sent a fresh wave of panic through Charlotte.

Her own breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she struggled to process the devastating sight. Disbelief warred with a terrifying certainty. "I know nothing happened to him!" she declared, her voice rising, fueled by a desperate denial. She pointed a trembling finger at Ryan's parents. "This is all your plan! Where is he?" Her eyes darted around the room, as if she could conjure him into existence simply by the force of her will. The accusation hung heavy in the air, a desperate cry from a heart unwilling to accept the unbearable truth.

Ryan's father rose from the sofa, his face etched with a sorrow that seemed genuine, and walked slowly towards Charlotte. "We're just as heartbroken as you are, Charlotte," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "This... this was so sudden. But what can we do?"

Charlotte turned away, unable to meet his gaze. A cold certainty settled in her stomach. His words felt hollow, rehearsed.

She saw not grief, but something else flicker in his eyes – a fleeting, almost imperceptible smirk that vanished as quickly as it appeared. It was enough to solidify her suspicion. This wasn't just sadness; something else was at play.

Then, Ryan's mother spoke, her voice surprisingly gentle, almost soothing. "But darling," she said, stepping closer and placing a hand on Charlotte's arm, "we care about you so much. We don't want you to be alone. That's why we've been thinking..." She paused, her eyes meeting Charlotte's with a strange intensity. "We'll arrange for you to marry Brian. That way, you'll always be a part of our family. You'll always stay with us."

Charlotte's eyes widened in disbelief and horror. The gentle tone, the concerned words – they masked a chilling proposition. Trapped. That's what they wanted. This wasn't about comfort; it was about control. The pieces clicked into place, forming a terrifying picture. Ryan's "accident," their forced grief, and now this… it was all connected.

Mr. Gabriel stepped forward, his demeanor shifting from sorrowful to calculating. "Then let's be clear, Charlotte," he stated, his voice firm. "You can have your father's company back. All the shares, everything. But only if you promise to marry Brian."

Charlotte's eyes widened further, a mixture of shock and dawning realization washing over her. "If that was the case," she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief, "why did you make me marry Ryan in the first place?" The question hung in the air, demanding an explanation for their seemingly contradictory actions.

Mrs. Gabriel offered a chillingly simple answer, her tone almost casual. "Because they both loved you, my dear. Ryan... he was stronger. So... it happened." The implication was clear, a disturbing admission of manipulation and control over their lives.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, a wave of disgust washing over her. Their twisted logic was sickening. "I know you've hidden him somewhere," she declared, her voice filled with a newfound resolve. "And I will find him! I... lov—" She stopped abruptly, the unspoken word hanging heavy in the air, a raw testament to the depth of her feelings for Ryan, a love they were so desperately trying to extinguish.

Desperate, her mind racing, Charlotte fumbled for her phone. Against all odds, she managed to get through to her mother, a woman who had been distant and cold since her unwanted marriage to Ryan. "Mom, listen," Charlotte pleaded, her voice trembling with urgency, "it wasn't Ryan... it was his father. And now he allegedly killed him too, but I know he's alive. He wants me to marry his younger, disabled son in exchange for our company."

A dry, humorless chuckle echoed on the other end of the line. "Just sign the contract, Charlotte," her mother said, her tone dismissive. "Your father's company was his last legacy. We both loved him so much; you know how much hard work he poured into it."

"Yeah... but... I'm already married, Mom, and I have this feeling... I know he's alive," Charlotte insisted, clinging to that sliver of hope.

"Who's going to know?" her mother retorted, her voice sharp. "He's dead to everyone else, isn't he? Maybe he actually is. It's not like you loved him anyway."

Charlotte tried to project an image of strength, of unwavering conviction in Ryan's survival. But deep down, a confusing mix of emotions swirled within her. Despite the forced nature of their marriage, Ryan's kindness, his gentle nature, had begun to chip away at her initial resentment. A warmth, something akin to affection, had started to bloom in her heart, a secret she hadn't fully acknowledged until this very moment. The thought of him truly being gone sent a pang of unexpected pain through her.

As the call ended, Charlotte's mind filled with memories of Ryan. His kind smile, his quiet understanding, his constant help. Could she really betray him? He had always been good to her. But then she thought of her father, her whole world. And the promise she made to her mother to avenge his death. It felt like she was being torn in two.

Charlotte's fingers trembled as she dialed Ryan's number. Each ring of the phone sent a jolt of nervous anticipation through her, a tiny spark of hope flickering in the darkness. Finally, on the third try, someone answered. The sound of Ryan's voice, weak and shaky, sent her heart plummeting and soaring simultaneously. It was him.

"Cherry... sweetheart... I knew it," he gasped, his voice laced with pain, as if each word was a struggle. "I knew you'd contact me... please... please save me... that man... he tied me up... I'm getting threatened... please save—"

Before he could finish his desperate plea, a sudden thud echoed through the line, as if the phone had been knocked to the ground. "Hello? Hello, Ryan!" Charlotte cried out, her voice rising in panic. "Ryan, don't worry! I'll save you!" She shouted, unaware if he could still hear her, the phone clearly on speaker.

"No! Don't come here! You'll get hurt!" Ryan yelled back, his voice strained with fear and urgency. A sharp slap followed his warning, a sickening sound that made Charlotte flinch. Then, the line went dead. The connection was severed, leaving Charlotte in a terrifying silence, the echoes of Ryan's desperate cries ringing in her ears.

Driven by a surge of adrenaline, Charlotte's fingers flew across her phone, her mind racing through the few contacts she had. Her heart pounded as she landed on Evan, a former business associate of her late father who had always seemed genuinely kind. With trembling hands, she pressed the call to her cousin who was an investigator. He answered on the second ring. "Evan, it's Charlotte I need your help, now! It's an emergency. Ryan... his father has taken him. I just got a call – he's being held, threatened! I have a recording – you have to hear it. Can you meet me? Please, I don't know who else to trust!" The raw urgency in her voice was a desperate plea against time, a fragile lifeline thrown into the abyss of her fear.

Evan reassured her and asked her to calm down while asking her to send Ryan's contact number so he can try to track him down and inform her of the progress. She was breathing heavily Ryan's helpless voice continually ringing in her head.