The Decoy
1207 Words
Exhausted from work, Vernon decided to drive back to his apartment, hoping a few hours of sleep might soothe him. But sleep had abandoned him days ago.
After a long shower, he sank into the sofa and opened his laptop, determined to find something—anything—in the security footage from days earlier that could answer the questions clawing at his mind. The cold blue light reflected in his sharp, watchful eyes as he began the breach.
He didn’t just hack—he dismantled. One by one, he peeled away the system’s defenses, slipping past perimeter firewalls, ghosting through the internal VLAN, until he reached the encrypted NVR storage and cracked it open.
The footage began to play.
4x. 10x. 20x.
Blurred movements. Distorted timelines. Nothing.
When he pulled up the footage from two days earlier, something caught his eye—something that didn’t sit right.
At first, it seemed ordinary.
Edith Van Laurent, dressed in an elegant gown, was walking alongside her stylist, her posture poised, her expression controlled. The timestamp showed her leaving the mansion, heading toward the waiting car.
Vernon almost skipped past it.
But then he saw the second clip.
Same location. Same morning.
Half an hour later.
A girl stepped out of the mansion.
His breath hitched.
She looked exactly like Edith.
Same face. Same features.
But everything else was different.
She was dressed in casual clothes—simple, unguarded. No stylists. No security. A long bag hung from her shoulder—the kind art students carried, meant for canvases or sketch rolls.
Vernon leaned closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing as recognition struck like a blade through his thoughts.
The elevator girl.
His chest tightened.
“That’s her…” he whispered under his breath.
The realization didn’t come slowly—it hit all at once.
He hadn’t taken the heiress.
He had taken the wrong girl
A grave mistake.
One that could cost him his life.
For a moment, Vernon didn’t move. Didn’t think. The weight of it pressed down on him, suffocating, inescapable.
And for the first time in a long while, Vernon felt something dangerously close to uncertainty.
He didn’t call Lucien.
He didn’t alert the cartel.
He simply shut the laptop.
He grabbed his jacket and pulled it over himself, as if it could shield him from the weight of what he’d just uncovered.
His fingers closed around the car keys without hesitation.
Moments later, he was driving.
The city blurred past him—lights streaking across the windshield, the night swallowing the roads whole—but his mind stayed fixed on one thing.
The girl—who shouldn't be there.
⸻
Adrian was bent over the table in his office, both hands pressed against it, discussing strategy—how to rescue Eleanor, where she could be, how far Lucien might have taken her by now.
Maps were spread across the surface. Locations marked. Routes calculated.
The room was filled with men—his security team, silent, alert, waiting for instructions.
The power struggle between him and Lucien was no longer hidden. It had crossed the line.
This wasn’t just about control anymore.
It was personal.
Lucien had taken his daughter Eleanor.
And Adrian knew why.
“This is the last confirmed signal,” one of the men said, pointing to a location on the map.
He straightened slightly, his gaze still fixed on the map, his mind moving faster than anyone in that room could follow.
“Track every possible route out,” he said coldly. “Check all safe houses. I want updates every ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling as every man moved to carry out his command.
Adrian Van Laurent’s empire was growing fast. His business was rising to the top, stronger with each passing day.
But power like his never grows without consequence.
Adrian had started to feel that Lucien was no longer enough. He needed men who were more controlled, more reliable. So, he made a few changes in his system.
And those changes made Lucien furious.
What Lucien didn’t know was that Adrian already saw it coming.
Through a mole, Adrian received information that Lucien was planning to strike.
And his target was clear—
Edith.
The very core of Adrian’s empire.
At the same time, the ceremonial gala had already been announced. Important guests, powerful connections—everyone would be there.
Canceling the event would create suspicion, and suspicion would damage everything Adrian had built.
So instead of canceling it, Adrian made a plan.
Quietly—Precisely—Ruthlessly.
Before the gala, Edith was quietly removed. A controlled dose was enough to make her unconscious without raising any alarm.
And in her place—
Eleanor.
Dressed as Edith. Trained just enough. Positioned perfectly under controlled lighting, limited interactions, and carefully managed distance.
To the world, nothing was wrong.
To the guests, Edith Van Laurent was exactly where she was supposed to be.
The illusion held.
Even Lucien was deceived.
He struck at the wrong target.
Adrian’s empire remained stable—Untouched.
Exactly as he intended.
But Adrian had made one mistake.
While he managed to deceive the world… there were a few eyes he failed to account for.
The ones closest to him.
The door to Adrian’s office slammed open.
Edith walked in, her presence cutting through the tension in the room.
“Dad, what is going on?”
Adrian didn’t look surprised—but there was a flicker of irritation in his eyes. He straightened slightly, his voice controlled.
“You should be resting. Why are you here?”
He turned to one of his men.
“Take Miss Edith back to the mansion. Safely.”
Edith stepped forward immediately, her voice rising.
“No. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened while I was in the hospital.”
A brief silence.
Adrian finally looked at her directly. His cold gaze fell on her.
Edith took a step forward.
“I woke up in a hospital,” she said, her voice rising despite herself. “No one would tell me anything. I had guards outside my room like I’m some kind of prisoner—”
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t stop.
“What did you do?”
“Edith, I’m busy right now. We’ll talk later,” he said, his tone sharp and final—leaving no room for argument.
His gaze shifted past her, toward the guards stationed outside.
“Take her,” he said coldly. “And don’t let her out of your sight. Keep her safe—no matter what.”
“Dad—!”
Edith’s head snapped toward them, disbelief flashing across her face.
“No.”
She stepped back before they could reach her.
“No—I’m not going anywhere until you tell me the truth.”
But it was already too late.
The men stepped in without hesitation, gripping her arms as she struggled against them.
“Let me go! What are you hiding from me?!”
Her voice echoed through the room, sharp, desperate—but Adrian didn’t move.
Didn’t stop them.
He simply turned back to the table, as if nothing had happened.
- Writer
