A Lost Sheep
1736 Words
By the time they arrived at the house, it was already 11 pm.
Anton led Mia inside. They needed to talk.
He fought the urge to smile whenever he looked at her. She looked like a heartless CEO in his jacket, despite how messed up she was.
Her hair was in disarray, but for some reason, it made her look even prettier. Her dress was slightly torn, and he was sure the sleeves had some rips too. She was barefoot—she had fought barefoot and refused to put on those ankle-killing heels again.
As soon as they stepped inside, Anton picked up his phone and called his doctor, who was now on his way.
Mr. Jones.
The name echoed in his mind, fueling his anger.
He grabbed the first aid box and sat on the couch next to Mia, making sure to leave a good amount of space between them.
Gently, he took her hand and loosened the tie wrapped around it. She didn't react. He left momentarily and returned with a bowl of water to wash the dried blood off before cleaning the wound with an antiseptic solution.
"Sorry, but this might hurt," he said, holding a cotton ball soaked in methylated spirit.
She didn't reply.
He rubbed it over the cut and blew gently on it, but she didn't even flinch.
It was as if she didn’t feel anything.
Of course, she did. But she was Mia—she could handle it.
Anton checked the expiry date on the bottle of methylated spirit, wondering if it had lost its effectiveness.
Nope. It was still active.
He looked at her, surprised, and couldn't help but ask, "Don't you feel pain?"
"I do," she confessed. "But I’ve learned to live with it," she added, seeming dazed.
"You mean live with pain?"
She shrugged.
Okay. Now he definitely wanted to know her more. She seemed so dark and dangerous.
When he finished tending to her wounds, he wrapped her palm in a bandage and handed her some painkillers.
"Any other injuries?"
"I don’t think so."
"That’s good."
She hadn't planned on asking, but before she could stop herself, the words had already left her mouth.
"What about you? Are you injured?"
"Maybe a few bruises. I don’t know about internal bleeding—that’s why I called my doctor."
Internal bleeding?
That was funny. He hadn’t even fought much. Well, he had to waste his money somehow.
"He'll check you, too."
"Huh?"
"For internal bleeding, any further injuries, and also to examine this wound."
"Thank you, but no thank you. I’m fine."
"But it’s—"
"I’m fine, Mr. Hugh. You don’t have to worry about me."
There was no point arguing, so he let it go. She was always this stubborn.
"Okay, if you say so. Now, can you please tell me everything about tonight?"
She told him everything—the men in the room, the imposter, the fight—but she left out Luther. She simply said she used GPS.
Anton frowned as he listened, and Mia shivered slightly. She had never seen him angry before, and he looked terrifying when he was.
Jones.
Because of him, Mia had gotten hurt.
Because of him, Mia had risked her life.
He had planned to kill him. Again.
Anton had never intended to destroy Mr. Jones. But now, he would.
Without hesitation, he called Robert.
It was already midnight, and Robert was clearly dozing, but duty called.
"First thing in the morning, cancel every partnership with Mr. Jones and tell others to do so too," Anton ordered.
"Yes, sir. Did something happen?"
Of course, something had happened. He could hear it in Anton’s voice.
"He tried to kill me."
"Again?"
"Yes. I'll talk to you in the morning. Sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep."
Robert chuckled, and the call ended.
A moment later, Anton received another call from the security guard informing him that the doctor had arrived.
Mia was already on her feet, ready to leave.
"Good night, sir," she said with a small bow.
"Won’t you have tea or coffee?"
"No, thank you, sir."
"Fine then. Have a nice rest."
"Okay, sir."
He opened the door as the doctor stepped in. Mia gave him a polite nod before leaving.
Anton smiled as he watched her retreating figure.
Then, he followed the doctor inside for his checkup.
The doctor confirmed that he had no internal bleeding, just some bruises, which he treated.
Anton sat on his bed, thinking about everything that had happened.
He would have loved to sue Mr. Jones, but he needed solid evidence. He knew Palvis was a dirty man—his word and Mia’s alone might not be enough. The text message from Mr. Jones, which could have been useful, had already been deleted.
He sighed.
Palvis had just signed his death warrant by pulling this stunt a second time.
Meanwhile, at Jones’ house, things were not going well.
All the men involved in the mission had been whipped—despite already being wounded.
Broken glass littered the floor of his "dungeon."
Grown men groaned as lashes struck their backs.
Anger poured out in words, and alcohol was downed like water.
No one needed to tell Mr. Jones that he was doomed.
He knew Anton wouldn’t be as lenient as last time.
He knew Anton was coming for him.
And by morning, it became clear.
---
Anton wasn’t in a rush to go to work.
He came downstairs to prepare breakfast himself, assuming Mia wouldn’t be able to. He had wanted to tell her to skip making breakfast last night but forgot.
The scent of eggs filled the air, and he heard sizzling from the kitchen.
Surprised, he headed toward the kitchen and peered through the peephole.
Mia was cooking, putting in noticeable effort.
Her left hand had been injured, but since she was right-handed, she managed.
Anton smiled in admiration.
She was one tough nut to c***k.
He backed away and watched her through the kitchen camera.
It wasn’t fun to watch—especially when she hissed in pain at times.
He couldn't take it anymore.
Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.
Mia jerked, startled. He had never come into the kitchen while she was making breakfast.
"Mr. Hugh. Good morning, sir."
"Morning. Now leave that—I’ll take care of it. You’re injured."
"I’m okay, sir."
He didn’t want to mention that he had been watching her, so he reached out to take the cup from her hand—only to notice her expression.
He paused.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, sir. Everything is fine."
Anton sensed she was hiding something but ignored it. He stretched his hand again to take the cup from her and then saw his sleeve.
That’s when he realized what was wrong.
He was still in his nightclothes.
And he didn’t even want to imagine how he looked right now.
"I’ll be back," he said quickly and retreated.
As soon as the door shut, Mia let out a tiny laugh—one that surprised even her.
She shrugged it off.
Anton hadn’t heard her laugh, or he would have been just as surprised. But right now, he was too concerned about his appearance.
He went straight to the bathroom and stared at his reflection.
He sighed.
He had lost his reputation.
He looked like a sheep.
A lost sheep.
He laughed lightly, imagining what Mia must have thought.
After freshening up, he returned downstairs. This time, he was dressed in a dark blue suit. Mia had already set the table with toast, omelets, bacon, and tea.
He smiled and sat down.
"Let’s eat."
"I don’t eat breakfast this early. It might upset my stomach."
"Even if—"
She sneezed into her elbow.
"Bless you."
"Thank—"
Another sneeze.
"Bless you."
"Thank you," she mumbled, slightly embarrassed.
Anton grinned.
"I thought you said you don’t catch cold."
She opened her mouth to protest but ended up concealing a sneeze instead.
Why did her body have to disgrace her now?
She rarely fell sick. If she did, it was once a year and only for a day or the highest, two. But now...
He gave her his tea.
"Drink up and no buts"
"But..."
"No buts"
"What will you drink?"
"I'll go make another cup"
"But..."
"Nat!"
She kept quiet and sipped the hot tea.
"Now that's like a good girl" he wanted to ruffle her hair but didn't want to ruin the moment—he knew that she might not like it.
He went into the kitchen and came back with a cup of tea shortly after.
"You didn't have to work today, you're injured" He said immediately he sat down.
"Yes, but I'm fine"
"You are not, and you know it" He sipped his tea.
"Its just a small cut"
"Oh really! Is that so? Then how about you make lunch also?"
"Okay sir"
He hadn't expected that.
Why was she was always so tough?
He then decided to use it to his advantage.
"And bring it to my office"
"Huh?"
"You heard me, Chef Natasha"
She didn't know what to say.
He bit his toast and sipped some tea.
"I'll assign a driver to you. Make something delicious, I'll be waiting for you"
He winked and continued with his meal.
---
Jones had woken up with news from his PA that many investors had withdrawn their partnership from his business.
No one needed to tell him that it was Hugh Anton's doing.
Out of anger, he pressed the wine glass in his hand until it broke. The wine went to the floor and pieces of glass went into his hand.
Dave hurriedly came into his room.
"Dad are you okay?"
His question was answered with the sight of blood.
"What have you done to yourself now? Why?"
He rushed to get first aid materials from one of Jones' drawers.
"Its all ruined" Jones said aloud, more to himself than to his son.
"What is ruined?" Dave asked as he searched the drawer for some painkillers.
"Everything"
"I don't understand you"
"Get out!"
"Huh?"
"I said get out" Jones yelled as he stood up.
"But your injury, let me just..."
"Out!"
"Fine" Dave said as he drop the materials in his hand and walked out angrily.
"Jones Palvis, you are ruined" He said to himself as he ran his fingers through his hair.
- Writer
