Chapter10
690 Words
Elena walked towards the parked car and tapped on the windshield.
Something felt off. Smoke swirled inside, blurring the driver's figure.
She turned sharply toward Sandra, who was walking slowly.
“Hurry! There's smoke inside the car,” Elena called out.
Sandra quickened her steps. They yanked at the doors, they wouldn't budge.
“Let's break the window,” Elena said, already searching for something.
“With what?” Sandra asked, her eyes wide in panic.
Without waiting, Elena grabbed Sandra's bag, pulled out a high-heeled shoe, and smashed the sharp heel against the driver's window. The glass shattered.
She quickly unlocked the door from inside and dragged the driver out.
Sandra was already calling 911.
The driver, a boy in his early twenties, was unconscious, a cigarette still burning near his fingers.
Elena dropped to her knees, performing chest compressions. She pinched his nose, breathing life into him just before the ambulance sirens pierced the air.
All the anger she had felt toward him melted away.
The boy gasped awake, coughing violently. He would need hospital care, but he was alive.
Elena slumped onto the pavement, sweat dripping from her face.
“You saved his life,” Sandra said, sinking down beside her.
“And I was ready to roast him alive a few minutes ago,” Elena chuckled weakly.
“Funny how we get so caught up in ourselves we forget others are hurting,” Elena said, her voice low.
“Yeah… selfish sometimes,” Sandra agreed softly.
“Let's head home,” Sandra added, patting Elena's back.
They trudged on, exhausted.
Elena's apartment came first.
“See you tomorrow,” she said, waving.
Sandra waved back and continued down the road.
Inside, Elena collapsed on the living room couch, white walls, ornate POP ceilings, air conditioners humming, a massive smart TV centered against the wall, and a brightly colored chandelier glittering overhead.
Nan, hearing the door, came from the kitchen.
“Elena? You look drained,” Nan said, kneeling beside her.
“I just saved a young boy's life,” Elena replied with a faint smile.
“At the office?” Nan asked, sitting down, curiosity burning.
Elena recounted everything.
Nan listened, silent, then sighed deeply.
“You did good,” she said, squeezing Elena's hand warmly.
“How's Mr. Nicholas?” Nan asked.
“He's fine,” Elena said, trailing off into silence.
“Go upstairs and freshen up. Dinner's almost ready,” Nan said, standing.
Groaning, Elena forced her tire legs to move, dragging herself upstairs.
Meanwhile, across town…
“Alexander,” Trent said, pausing. “Don't you think the Beaumonts’ death could have been… arranged?”
Alexander rubbed his chin, staring into space.
“My thoughts exactly,” he said grimly.
The two were in Alexander's study, dark wood walls, a globe in the corner, a massive desk littered with papers.
“But… I feel like my father might be involved somehow. I just can't prove it,” Alexander added, shifting uneasily.
“That's a heavy accusation,” Trent said cautiously.
“It's my instinct,” Alexander insisted.
Trent stood, gazing out the window over the manicured lawn.
Alexander noticed something peeking from Trent's back pocket.
“What's this?” Alexander asked, pulling them out.
“VIP tickets,” Trent grinned. “Miller's State Annual Art Exhibition. Got them yesterday.”
“Velvis City, huh?” Alexander said, reading the print.
“You know why you're really attending,” Alexander teased, smirking.
“Come on, man. I love art,” Trent defended.
“You love ladies,” Alexander shot back, laughing.
Trent threw up his hands in mock surrender.
The room fell quiet for a moment, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
“You're thinking something,” Alexander said, studying Trent's face.
Trent hesitated, then finally spoke.
“Have you ever considered… what if the Beaumonts had a hidden heir? A son, or a daughter?”
Alexander straightened.
“A hidden heir?”
Trent nodded gravely.
Just then, the door creaked open.
“And who is this hidden heir you're talking about?”
The voice floated in, sharp, curious.
Mrs. Elizabeth Drake stood at the doorway.
- Writer
