Unexpected Call
1359 Words
I flinched violently, my heart slamming so hard against my ribs it hurt. For a split second, panic seized me—the hospital. I thought it was Damien, or perhaps his new woman calling back to twist the knife one last time. I scrambled for the phone with shaking hands, my fingers numb, clumsy.
Instead, I saw a single line from an unknown number.
"Meet me by 8:00 AM tomorrow."
That was it. No name. No explanation.
No mercy.
My expression twisted in disgust, my lips curling as anger surged hot and sudden through my chest.
"Are you serious?" I whispered hoarsely.
My grip tightened around the phone. For one reckless moment, I wanted to smash it against the wall—watch it shatter the way everything else in my life already had. Who sends something like that? At a time like this? From an unknown number?
I hadn't slept. I hadn't eaten. My sister was lying unconscious behind those doors, and some stranger thought this was the time to play games?
My thumb hovered over the screen.
Ignore it, a voice in my head urged.
You don't have room for this.
But desperation is a dangerous thing.
It claws at logic. It whispers that anything... even nonsense, is worth chasing if it might lead to salvation.
Against my better judgment, I typed back.
"Who is this?"
Unknown: Cedric.
The name hit me like a quiet shock.
My breath caught.
"Cedric…?" I murmured, the sound barely more than air.
Memories stirred—unexpected, intrusive. A polished office. Long hours. Shared case files. Late nights fueled by coffee and deadlines. Cedric had been one of the few people at the firm who'd treated me like an equal instead of an assistant passing through. A friend. A trustworthy one at that.
He was the one who'd introduced me to the law firm in the first place. The one who'd vouched for me when I barely had credentials to stand on. We'd worked hand in hand on several cases before my life unraveled—before Damien got sick, before I resigned without looking back.
I thought I'd lost his number years ago.
My pulse quickened, confusion flooding in fast and sharp.
Why now?. How did he even find me?
Did he know about Mia?
There was no way he could. I hadn't spoken to him in years. I hadn't told anyone from that life where I'd gone—only that I'd left.
And yet…
My mind raced faster than my eyes could keep up. Fear tangled with fragile hope, twisting in my chest until I couldn't tell them apart.
I stared at the message again.
Meet me by 8 AM tomorrow.
No greeting. No context. Just a demand. I swallowed hard, my hand trembling as I typed.
"Where?"
The response came instantly, as if he'd been waiting.
"The Vane Estate. North Ridge. I hope to see you early, Elona."
My breath shuddered out of me.
I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes as exhaustion crashed over me in waves. I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't understand why. But the reality gnawed at me with cruel clarity. I had no choice. Mia didn't have time for pride. Or fear. Or questions.
If this was a door—even a dangerous one. I would knock.
~~Adrian Pov~~
The city stretched endlessly beneath me, a living grid of lights and ambition. I stood at the edge of my office, tall, unmoving, the faint glow of dawn brushing against the sharp lines of my reflection in the glass. One hand rested in my pocket; the other curled slowly, deliberately, as if restraining something volatile beneath my skin.
I hated mornings like this.
They reminded me that time wasn’t infinite—even for men like me.
Behind me, my office was immaculate. A vast polished table dominated the center, its surface untouched, cold, reflective. Every detail screamed control. Precision. Power. And yet…
Women. That was the problem. Always women. Their voices echoed in my head, polished, relentless, demanding. My parents had sent three this week alone. Lady Isabella, whose family owned half the shipping ports in the East. Sophia, daughter of a tech mogul. Helena Rothschild. All impeccable, all powerful, all hungry. And every single one of them wanted me for what I could give, not who I am.
They paraded them in front of me like offerings. Each woman came with her own ambition disguised as affection. Their pride was loud. Their hunger louder. They didn't want a husband—they wanted a name. A position. Ownership.
Marriage, to them, was currency. Not love.
“I need a wife, not a leech,” I muttered under my breath, a low growl vibrating in my chest.
“Sir,” the maid said calmly, stepping inside. “He’s here.”
“Send him in,” I said, still facing the city, my voice clipped.
Cedric entered—hesitant but measured. The click of his shoes echoed on the marble floor before hitting the plush rug. The maid left, closing the door behind him, and suddenly the air felt heavier, pressurized, suffocating.
He stopped just inside, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, as he assessed me. I didn’t bother turning yet.
“You’re late,” I said finally, my tone cold, almost bored.
Cedric swallowed. “I did the best I could.”
"Did you?” I asked, calm but coiled with danger. “Have you arranged anyone yet?”
“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. The sound was tight, measured. “I found someone. But she isn’t from your parents’ list.”
Silence followed.
Slowly, I turned, eyes sharp, assessing, cutting straight through pretense. “Why did it take this long?”
Cedric opened his mouth, then closed it again. He chose his words carefully.
“Because I wasn’t looking for status,” he said. “I was looking for loyalty. Someone honest. Someone who wouldn’t sell you out the moment a better offer came along.”
I slammed my hand on the mahogany desk, letting the sound reverberate. “I don’t have time for games, Cedric. The Board meets in one month. If I don’t have a stable, committed wife to present for the legacy clause, I lose controlling interest in the firm. I don’t care about royal blood. I care about results.”
A humorless sound escaped me—half a laugh, half a scoff. “All those women sent to me were a mistake,” I said coldly. “They came for one reason. Power. Name. Access. And what makes you think a normal woman wouldn’t do the same?”
Cedric’s stomach twisted.
“This one is different,” he said firmly, fingers curling so tightly his nails bit into skin. “I know her.”
I stepped toward him, slow, deliberate. Each footfall echoed across the room. I stopped directly in front of him, towering. My presence suffocating.
“I don’t have time for fairy tales,” I said quietly. “I need a wife. Not affection. Not loyalty. A contract. A shield. When this is over, I go back to my life.”
Cedric met my gaze, unflinching. “Then she’s perfect.”
A long silence followed. I searched him, piercing, looking for a c***k in his certainty. Seems you don't understand what you've gotten yourself into Cedric. I roamed the room briefly—calculating, dismissive—before settling back on him.
“We’ll see,” I said finally. “If this fails, you’re done.”
Cedric nodded once.
Minutes later, sitting in his car at a quiet bar down the street, Cedric’s hands fidgeted. He took a sip of his drink, eyes fixed on his phone. After hours of searching, one number matched the last digits he remembered. He sent the text on a whim—a prayer to a God he didn’t believe in.
Ping.
The notification beamed on the dashboard, taunting him.
“Where?”
Cedric exhaled, a long breath of relief. He sent the address of the Vane Estate. He knew I was strict, that I meant what I said.
He didn’t hesitate.
- Writer
