The CEO's Best friend

Chapter One: The Midnight Abduction The night was thick with silence, broken only by the low rumble of a van being loaded behind an old warehouse. Shadows danced on the concrete walls, moving quickly like whispers of something that shouldn't be seen. Inside the building, figures shuffled with purpose, their voices low and tense. "Make sure the goods are secured. This one’s bringing us big money," barked a scar-faced man, his voice rough like gravel. He stood with his arms crossed, watching everything with cold, calculating eyes. Inside the van, a handful of children sat huddled together—dirty, bruised, and trembling. Their cries were soft, muffled by fear. The scar-faced man turned toward them, sneering. "Shut up. One sound, and I swear, I’ll chop you into doll pieces," he growled. No one dared speak. One child whimpered, then bit down on her lip to silence herself. The man gave a curt nod to his partner. “Let’s move.” The doors slammed shut. The van groaned to life, its wheels crunching gravel as it slipped back into the dark. Inside the cargo space, lit only by a single flickering bulb, a red-haired girl sat still, her face unreadable. Her name was Flora. She didn’t cry. She didn’t tremble. Her red eyes scanned the van, picking up every detail—bolt placement, wall strength, patterns of the captors. Her mind ticked like a clock. She wasn’t just scared. She was thinking. How did I get here? The memory came fast. Her father’s girlfriend, Cilia, had taken her to the park that afternoon. It felt normal. Fun, even. Until Cilia vanished. “Cilia?” she had called out. “Cilia, where are you?” Nothing. No response. Just people walking by, faces blurring together. She had tried to stay calm, but she was only eight, and it didn’t take long for panic to set in. She began asking strangers for help. Then came the woman—friendly, pretty, with kind eyes and a warm smile. “Hello, darling. Why are you all alone?” she’d asked, bending down gently. Flora had told her everything, her voice breaking with each word. The woman had wiped her tears and promised to help her find her parents. She even bought her ice cream—chocolate vanilla swirl with colorful sprinkles. Flora remembered smiling. That was the last time she felt safe. The woman had taken her home, saying her parents would be there soon. Flora remembered curling up on a soft couch, feeling sleepy, the ice cream melting in her hand. She remembered voices—faint, distant. A man. She couldn’t see him, but something about his voice made her skin crawl. Then everything went black. Now, she was here. Tied up. Surrounded by frightened children. And she was angry. Let me introduce myself properly. My name’s Flora. I’m eight years old. I have red hair, red eyes, and a face that people say looks like it belongs on a magazine cover. I know I sound like a narcissist, but hey, when you’re a genius-level child spy, you earn a little confidence. Yes. I’m a spy. And Cilia sold me out. But right now, none of that matters. What matters is the little girl beside me who can’t stop crying. Her shoulders shake as she stares into the dark, eyes wide with fear. Flora reaches out and gently squeezes the girl’s hand. “It’s okay,” she whispers, her voice calm and steady. “We’ll find a way out of this.” The girl looks at her, confused but comforted. Flora nods reassuringly. Panic won’t help us now. We need to stay alert. The van hits a bump, jostling everyone inside. A few kids gasp. Flora closes her eyes for a second and breathes. Come on, Flora. Think. You’ve trained for this. She hears the voice of her trainer—stern but kind. A woman who had once told her: “Your mind is your weapon. Use it. Trust it.” The van finally stops. The back doors creak open. The scar-faced man and his partner jump in, grabbing the children roughly and pulling them out one by one. Flora goes limp, pretending to be weaker than she is. Let them underestimate her. They’re taken into another building—dark, smelly, the walls damp with mold. It stinks of sweat and something worse. Flora looks around. The children are terrified, clinging to each other like lost puppies. And she knows—if she doesn’t do something soon, they’ll break. She takes a breath and leans in close to the ones nearest to her. “Hey,” she says softly. “I know you’re scared. I am too. But listen to me. We’re not staying here. We’re getting out.” A boy blinks at her, unsure. “But… how?” “Together,” Flora says. “We work together. Stay calm, stay quiet, and watch everything. I’ll lead. You follow. Understand?” They nod. Slowly, fear begins to melt into hope. It's fragile, but it’s there. Flora straightens her back and lifts her chin. This isn’t the end. Not even close. And she’s about to make these monsters regret ever laying a hand on her—or anyone else.