chapter three
1497 Words
Chapter Three: Matthew
I hated city life.
The noise. The filth. The people who looked past each other like ghosts. I stayed far away from all of it for a reason—my sanity. My peace.
But my PI and I had chased a lead on a very infuriating case to this city; a scam on my company from five years ago. We had gone into a deal worth over a hundred million but the company turned out to be a ghost and I lost my money.
More annoying was the fact that the lead turned out to be false.
So here I was. Back in this pit. For nothing.
“I told you I didn’t want to come down unless it was serious,” I muttered as I sat across from my private investigator at a low-lit table in a bar near my condo.
“I still find it bizarre,” Vincent said across the table. “We traced everything so how could they still evade us?.”
I calmly sipped my bourbon. Beats me.
“Well lucky for the bastard, I've got nothing but time. I must recover my money.”
Vince nodded. “I'll I'll keep searching.”
As he packed up, my phone buzzed again.
Aunt Claudette.
My eyes narrowed. I’d declined her call three times already so I picked up out of guilt.
“Matthew, darling! Did you get the profile I sent you?”
God help me.
“Yes,” I sighed. “She's a pageant queen, Auntie. Twenty-six with three cats. I’m not interested.”
“You’re impossible! What about her friend? The one with the gallery? She’d make a lovely wife. You and your kids need a woman in your life Matthew.”
“What I need is peace and I have it.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” she said sweetly. “All alone on your private island like a retired pirate.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Just think about it—”
Click. She's insufferable.
I stepped outside, my driver Leon trailing quietly behind me as always. We were turning the curb when I saw her.
Lying on the cold pavement just outside the back alley behind the condo building. Motionless. Her black dress shimmered slightly under the streetlamp.
“Leon!” I barked and rushed toward her.
She wasn’t bleeding. No visible bruises. Just completely unconscious.
“Anyone around?” I called out.
“No one,” Leon said. “Place is dead this time of night.”
He was right. It's almost 3am. I crouched beside her and opened her purse carefully. Wallet. Lip gloss. And a dead phone.
“How did you end up here?” I muttered.
Her breathing was shallow but steady. Her skin was warm. But something wasn’t right.
“Let’s get her inside,” I said.
“Sir—”
“I’m not leaving her here.”
We brought her up to my penthouse and laid her down on the guest bed. She didn't move, her chest rising slowly but steadily.
I didn't catch a whiff of alcohol on her which left me with one concussion: drugged.
I just hope nothing was done to her.
Leon hovered by the door. “Should I stay with her, sir?”
“No. Go home,” I said, already pulling open the closet for a blanket. “I’ve got it from here.”
“You sure?”
“Yea. I think she's just passed out.” I said, my voice lower than usual.
Leon nodded and left.
I'd seen a ring on her finger indicating she's Married. So why was she passed out on the streets like that?
I grabbed my coat and headed out, walking a block to the nearest 24hr drugstore. Picked up a bottle of activated charcoal, a detox formula, and a hydration IV mix just in case.
When I stepped back out onto the street, I saw a flash of black racing out of my building onto the street.
It was her, awake and getting in a taxi.
I cursed under my breath and waved down the next one, ordering it to follow her.
We trailed the cab through the city, turning corner after corner, until it finally stopped in front of a private hospital.
I tossed a bill at the driver and jumped out, staying close but out of sight as she rushed inside.
Seconds later I see her walking down a hall toward a gathered group of people —two older women, a younger one, and a tall, cold-eyed man who stormed toward her.
“You’ve got to be f*****g kidding me,” the man hissed. “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!”
She stopped in her tracks. “Xander—”
SMACK.
I flinched as the slap cracked across her face, loud enough to make people glance up.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for over seven hours! SEVEN FREAKING HOURS, Andrea!”
“Xander—I don't un—”
“You don't what?!” He asked angrily. “Your son’s lungs collapsed and you were nowhere to be found? Where the f**k were you? Dressed like some w***e, disappearing for hours? Your phone has been off!”
“I wasn’t—I didn't disappear. What the hell is going on?! Where's my son?”
I started walking forward. “She was unconscious outside—” Then I stopped.
“Really?” I watched as he tossed photos at her feet.
I couldn’t see them clearly, but I saw her face freeze.
“You went into a guesthouse dressed like that, having a good time f*****g your lover while OUR SON FOUGHT FOR HIS LIFE!”
I blinked slowly.
Lover?
A familiar rage burned in my gut. Ugly and cold.
This woman—who I carried into my home, who I pitied—was no victim.
She's just like my ex-wife who had walked out on me and our two children to go be with her lover and my ex best friend. Women were all the same everywhere.
I turned on my heel, walked out through the emergency entrance, and tossed the bag of medication I still held into the nearest trash can.
---
Andrea
“No!” I cried, voice raw. “I didn’t disappear to meet a lover! Xander—listen to me—I got a message from you. YOU! You sent me a text saying to meet you!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped.
“You said you wanted to fix things. You even sent a photo! The dress came with your name on it!”
“That’s a lie,” his mother spat.
Ramona stepped forward, trembling. “She’s not lying ma'am. I saw the box, a courier dropped it off. It had Mr. Hillson’s name on top.”
“Don’t drag the help into this,” Xander’s sister hissed. “She’s probably covering for her.”
“I’m not—!” Ramona started, but Xander raised a hand.
“Show me the message,” he said coldly. “Right now.”
“Yes! Open the damn phone and show us!” his mother barked.
I opened the screen, searched my inbox and call log.
Nothing.
No messages.
No calls history
My face scrunched in confusion.
“No. No, no, no… this isn’t right,” I whispered, scrolling faster. “They were here. I swear to God, they were here!” What is happening?
“You’re pathetic,” his sister scoffed.
“Xander—honey, please! I called you and you answered. You sent the dress. I wore it to come see you. I thought—”
SMACK.
Another blow.
Then another.
“You think I’d ask you to come see me dressed like that?! You think I’d beg for you to come to me? I've never wanted you, Andrea.”
“But you did…” I sobbed, cowering on the cold tiles. “I'd never abandon my son.”
The blows finally stopped and I managed to look up at his face.
Xander’s eyes turned to stone.
“You'd never abandon your son?” he hissed. “He died fifteen minutes before you walked in, dressed like a tramp. AND YOU WEREN'T HERE!.”
The air vanished from my lungs.
“No…” I whispered. “No.”
“I never want to see you again, Andrea. Along with our son, our marriage is officially dead. I'll be sending you the divorce papers. I finally have zero reasons to put up with you.”
“Xander, don’t say that—please—don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I didn’t—” I tried crawling over to him but he kicked me away.
The entire Hillson family turned and began walking out after him.
Soon I was left alone with just Ramona and the repeated ringing in my head.
My son is dead.
- Writer
