HEART CONTRACT

EPISODE 2:The Unsettling News

“Your brother’s been arrested, Chanel.”

Those words hit harder than any headline ever could. My phone nearly slipped from my hand as Maya’s trembling voice echoed through the speaker.

“What did you just say?” I asked, my throat tightening.

“They picked him up this morning outside his apartment. It’s all over the news. They said he tried to leave the city.”

I shot up from the couch, nearly spilling my coffee. “That’s a lie. John wouldn’t run.”

My mind spun so fast it felt like the walls were closing in. The television across the room flickered to life on its own. I don't even remember turning it on, and there it was, his face. My brother’s face. His mugshot stared back at me under the words, ‘Breaking: John Collins, Key Suspect in Blackwell Enterprises Fraud Scandal.’

For a second, I forgot how to breathe. The apartment, usually a cocoon of calm and curated beauty, suddenly felt foreign. Too quiet. Too cold.

“I have to go,” I murmured, not even sure to whom.

My heels clicked against the marble floor as I rushed toward my bedroom. My reflection in the mirror caught me mid-motion, with dishevelled hair, pale skin, and mascara smudged from a sleepless night. The woman staring back didn’t look like a successful fashion designer. She looked like someone’s sister fighting to hold herself together.

I grabbed my coat, keys, and sunglasses, then ran out the door.

The police station was chaos, reporters crowding the steps, flashes of cameras cutting through the morning light like lightning. I pulled my coat tighter and pushed past them, ignoring the chorus of questions thrown in my direction.

“Chanel, do you believe your brother is guilty?”

“Did you benefit from the stolen funds?”

“Are you and the Blackwell family still connected?”

That last question sliced deep, but I didn’t stop.

Inside, the air smelled of coffee and disinfectant. Cold. Impersonal. A uniformed officer looked up from his desk.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here for John Collins,” I said, steady but strained. “He was arrested this morning.”

The officer flipped through a clipboard, then nodded. “He’s in holding. You’ll have to wait.”

Wait.

That word burned. I’d spent my whole life waiting for opportunities, for justice, for love that didn’t turn into betrayal. And now I had to wait again while my brother sat in a cell for something he didn’t do.

I found a chair near the corner and sat. Every second felt heavier than the last. I could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere behind me, cruel in its precision.

My phone buzzed, Marcus.

“Don’t talk to the press,” he said without preamble. “They’re turning this into a full-blown circus. Every outlet is linking your brand to the Blackwell case. We need to get ahead of this before”

“Marcus,” I cut in, voice raw. “I don’t care about the brand right now.”

There was a pause. “I know. I’m just saying, you need to be smart. Whoever’s behind this isn’t just targeting John. They’re coming for you too.”

I stared at the cracked tile floor. His words weren’t paranoia. They were the truth.

Because this wasn’t random. This was precise. Calculated. Personal.

When I finally saw John, it broke something inside me. He sat behind a glass divider, hands cuffed, eyes hollow. The sight of him, like that of the same brother who once walked me to school with his hand on my shoulder, made my chest ache.

“John…” My voice cracked.

He lifted his head slowly, forcing a faint smile. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“How could I not?”

He shrugged weakly. “You were always the stubborn one.”

I tried to smile, but my throat was burning. “They’re saying you tried to flee the city. That’s not true, is it?”

“Of course not. I was going to meet someone. Someone who said they could prove I was framed.”

My pulse quickened. “Who?”

He hesitated, eyes flickering toward the security camera in the corner. “I can’t say here. They warned me.”

“John,” I whispered fiercely, “I don’t care who warned you. You can’t keep hiding things from me. If someone sets you up, I need to know who.”

He leaned closer to the glass. “It’s bigger than you think, Chanel. This isn’t just about embezzlement. It’s about power. Control. And… Jackie Blackwell.”

The name hit like a slap.

I pulled back slightly, breathed shallowly. “Jackie? He’s the one behind this?”

“I can’t prove it. Not yet. But I worked under his financial division. Every major transaction had his signature buried somewhere. And now, suddenly, I’m the fall guy.”

The room tilted for a second. Jackie Blackwell, the man who once promised me the world and left me shattered without explanation, was now the reason my brother was behind bars.

The irony was cruel enough to taste.

Back in my car, I gripped the steering wheel, so tightly my knuckles went white. The city outside was loud and alive, but inside, I was nothing but silence and fury.

I thought of Jackie, his smooth voice, that careless smirk, and the way he made you feel seen and invisible at the same time. The man had power coursing through his veins, and now he was using it to ruin the only person I loved most.

No.

Not this time.

I pulled out my phone and called Marcus again. “I want every file connected to Blackwell Enterprises,” I said. “Financial reports, insider news, nothing leaked online. I don’t care how you get it.”

He hesitated. “Chanel… you’re not thinking straight. You go after him publicly, and you’ll burn bridges that can’t be rebuilt.”

“Then I’ll build new ones,” I said, voice steady now. “But not on lies.”

When the call ended, I leaned back and closed my eyes. My heartbeat slowed, but only slightly. I could feel that dangerous spark in my chest. The one that always ignited right before I did something reckless.

This wasn’t just about clearing John’s name anymore. It was about justice. It was about truth. And maybe, deep down, revenge.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The city’s hum outside my window was louder than usual: taxis, distant sirens, and the rhythm of a place that never paused. I sat by the window, watching raindrops blur the skyline, my laptop glowing softly beside me.

Every article about John was worse than the last. Every rumor is more twisted. One even suggested I’d helped him “launder money through fashion investments.”

I laughed bitterly. The kind of laugh that hurts more than crying.

Then I saw it, a smaller article buried beneath the headlines:

‘Anonymous Source Reveals “Internal Evidence” Tied to Blackwell Account Transfers.’

My pulse spiked. The file was password-protected and uploaded anonymously to a hidden financial forum. But something about the username caught my attention. TheRebirth_7.

The Rebirth.

My design. My collection name. The one only a few people in my team knew about.

It wasn't a coincidence. It was a message.

I stared at the screen, feeling my heart drum against my ribs. Someone was reaching out. Someone who knew both my world and his.

The cursor blinked at me like a heartbeat. I typed in a guess: Collins7. Denied.

Then another John Rebirth.

Access granted.

My breath caught as the folder opened. Inside was a single video file, timestamped three weeks before the scandal broke.

I clicked play.

Static. Then a man’s voice, distorted, filtered, but familiar enough to make my skin crawl.

“Tell Chanel, the voice said, “that the game has just begun.”

My blood ran cold.

Because beneath the distortion, I recognized the tone, that arrogant calm that once made me fall for him.

It was Jackie Blackwell’s voice.

And suddenly, I realized this wasn’t just an attack. It was personal.