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MISSING: THE CHRISTMAS SPECIAL — Mystery Suspense Synopsis

On the first day of December, the Lagos Hallmark Mall bursts into its usual Christmas frenzy: lights, music, crowds… and an undercurrent of tension no one can quite name.

For Emaido Edoh, a pregnant live-in caretaker on the verge of resigning, today is supposed to be simple—one last shopping trip with Sonia Perez Okoye, the sharp-tongued but strangely affectionate thirteen-year-old daughter of a billionaire family.

But in a single, ordinary moment, Sonia disappears.

No scream.
No struggle.
No trace.

Only her inhaler remains.

Panicked yet afraid to involve the wrong people, Emaido clings to the one person willing to help: Ahmed Sule, a young mall security officer already investigating a string of strange thefts hidden from the public eye.

As they search the mall’s glittering corridors, they encounter unsettling characters whose stories don’t match their smiles—an eccentric seer, a watcher with too many cameras, and mall staff who seem far too eager to mislead.

The deeper they look, the more the mall shifts from a festive haven into a layered puzzle—full of blind spots, secrets, and corridors where truth goes missing just as easily as a child.


“Missing: The Christmas Special” is a gripping mystery-suspense novel about hidden motives, buried truths, and a desperate race to save one girl before the mall’s shadows close around her completely.

THE BEGGAR REFUSED TO BEG

FROM THE COLLECTION A.P.O.R.E



By noon, the whole street was in confusion.

For twenty-three years, Old Káyòde the Beggar sat by the rusted rail at Ológun Junction—his “office,” as people joked—shaking his tin cup with the rhythm of a man who had given up on destiny and taken a job from hopelessness itself.

But today, the beggar refused to beg.

He did not even sit on the ground.
He sat on a wooden stool.
Wearing a crisp white shirt.
Shaved head.
Clean beard line.
New slippers that made him look like someone’s uncle returning from abroad.

And the greatest crime of all?

He was reading the evening newspaper.

Not upside down.
Not pretending.
Actually reading it—turning pages, adjusting his glasses, nodding like a man reviewing the state of the nation with disappointment.

People passing were deeply unsettled.

Some slowed down.
Some stopped entirely.
Some circled him like an ancient deity who had suddenly changed his shrine’s operating hours.

No one could understand it.

The tomato seller whispered,
“He has joined cult.”

The barber said,
“No—this is what happens when government wants to use somebody for experiment.”

The taxi driver argued,
“Wisdom has finally landed on his head. That’s all.”

The secondary-school students insisted,
“Maybe he won lottery!”

The pastor from the corner church clasped his Bible dramatically and declared,
“Brethren, this is a sign. Prepare thyselves.”

Even the children who used to throw biscuit wrappers at him were confused.
One of them asked his mother, loudly,
“Mummy, why is the beggar finer than Daddy today?”
Daddy pretended not to hear.

Every attempt to speak to him failed.
Anyone who approached received the same treatment:

A polite nod.
A measured smile.
And silence.

He did not stretch out his hand.
He did not shake his cup.
He did not complain about hunger, heat, or the wickedness of government.

He simply read his newspaper.

The more they watched him, the more uncomfortable everyone became—because in that moment, the beggar looked better kept, better dressed, and more at peace than half of the people judging him.

It was offensive.
It was confusing.
It was humbling.

A man asked,
“Káyòde, what happened to you?”

The beggar turned a page.
Smiled.
Said nothing.

A woman said,
“Did someone bless you?”

He nodded politely.
Said nothing.

A boy said,
“Oga, are you still a beggar?”

The beggar folded his newspaper and stared into the distance, as if the question itself was too small for his new level.

Still, he said nothing.

The day went on, and rumours multiplied like rainfall on hot ground.
People forgot their own troubles just to wonder about the mystery of the beggar who refused to beg.

Then, at exactly 6:00 pm, he closed the newspaper, dusted off his clean shirt, stood up, stretched—and waved.

Not a beggar’s wave.
A gentleman’s wave.

He walked away, leaving the street suspended between awe, fear, and irritation.

Someone said,
“So he will come back tomorrow?”

Another replied,
“If he comes back again, will he beg… or will he read Business News?”

Everyone wondered.
Everyone debated.
Everyone felt the uncomfortable sting of possibility.

Because if a beggar can transform in one day—
then what excuse do the rest of us have?

And that was the true disturbance.

Somewhere in the back of every mind, a truth whispered:

People can change in a minute.
Even the ones you have already buried in your judgement.
Even you.

Whether the beggar returns or not is irrelevant.
What matters is that for one strange day, he forced the whole street to confront something they never expected—

that the man they mocked could rise,
and the people who mocked him might be the ones truly stuck.

IF MONEY HAD A VOICE

A PIECE FROM THE COLLECTION A.P.O.R.E
— Money speaks, without mercy



I am tired of watching you destroy yourselves for me.

I am tired of being blamed for sins
you carved into your own hearts long before you touched me.

You say I am the root of all evil —
lies.
I don’t create evil.
I expose it.
I peel back your skin and reveal what festers underneath.

I have watched you all twist your own identities,

throw away their morals,
bury their dignity in shallow graves—
all for a taste of me.

You throw away your name,
your upbringing,
your sense of right and wrong—
just to wear the mask of someone who “made it.”

You let me control you.
You let me define you.
You let me own you.
And I am disgusted.

Do you know what it feels like
to be held like a god
and then blamed like a demon?

I am not the shame here —
you are.


I am embarrassed for you,
the way a parent feels when a child misbehaves in public,
except you are grown adults
selling your futures for crumbs.

You call yourselves hustlers,
but most of you are just desperate gamblers
throwing your destiny into a fire
and calling it ambition.

I have seen boys turn into monsters—
fraudsters, ritualists, extortionists—
their hands shaking with greed,
their eyes empty like dried wells.

I have seen girls barter their identity,
their stories, their bodies—
not because they want to,
but because someone told them
that without me, they are worthless.

I have watched politicians
eat the nation from the inside out,
like termites in wood,
then blame the hunger on me.

I am ashamed,
not of myself,
but of what you willingly become
when you think no one is watching.

You kill friendships in my name.
You betray brothers for my touch.
You curse your parents behind closed doors
because they didn’t have enough of me to give you.

Do you know what I feel
when I lie in the pocket
of a man who worked for me with clean hands?
Pride.

Do you know what I feel
when I lie in the pocket
of a man who stole, cheated, or murdered to hold me?
Disgust.

You have turned me
into a mirror that reflects your rot,
and still you point fingers at me.
Cowards.
All of you.

The truth is simple:
I do not corrupt you.
I reveal you.
I show you exactly who you are
when you think no consequence is watching.

If you are greedy,
I magnify it.
If you are wicked,
I expose it.
If you are lost,
I become the compass that leads you deeper into darkness
because that is where you were walking anyway.

Stop using me as an excuse
for the evil you willingly embrace.
Own your own shadows.
Face your own hunger.
Confront your own emptiness.

Because until you learn that
your soul is worth more than I am,
you will keep selling it for a penny’s worth
and wondering why you feel hollow.

I am tired of being your god.
I am tired of being your scapegoat.
I am tired of being your mask.

I want to be nothing more
than what I was made to be—
a tool.
A servant.
A means, not a master.

But as long as you worship me,
as long as you sacrifice your identity at my altar,
as long as you twist your humanity for my sake…

Then know this:
I will continue to expose you.
I will continue to shame you.
I will continue to remind you
of the truth you fear:

You were broken long before you touched me.

Well said. I learnt something here.

Alright guys, so We started publishing HTSV on Webnovel and the reception has been very good. Updates here may no longer come much. I would send the link if requested when we are done over there. Thank you for reading!

Part Forty Two Albert’s Visit

The next morning, Albert arrived at the Hanns’ residence alone.

Jonathan received him in the study. The room was long and hollow, its silence stretching between them like a taut string. Albert sat opposite, calm but watchful, his sharp eyes betraying none of the questions already forming.

“Have you remembered anything else?” Albert asked at last.

Jonathan shook his head. His voice was quiet, tired and sad. “No. It’s all… fuzzy.”

Albert leaned back.

“And the case?” Jonathan asked.

“Going well,” Albert replied smoothly, though the curve of his mouth suggested otherwise.

He let silence hang before continuing, casual as though it were an afterthought.
“Are you aware of A Lord Madeiya’s report?”

Jonathan frowned, shook his head.

"Care to enlighten me on this report?"

"Oh it will be my pleasure, in fact,that would be the reason I am here, that night, it was reported after you arrived home, a report of what happened was sent by the hands of a horse man to the police immediately, this horse man happened to work for Lord madeiyas, who gave a second report that eventually got to the police, quite a tale isn't it?"

Albert’s gaze sharpened. Jonathan's eyes trailed.

Albert produced the original copy, he saw the reaction he had hoped to get. Anxiety and possibly fear.

"March 25, 1885

To the Esteemed Chief of Police,

Commissioner Webb

I write to you in utmost urgency and distress, from the manor of my esteemed employer, Sir Raymond H anns.

A most calamitous event hath befallen our young master, Master Jonathan, who hath just returned home, bearing signs of a most grievous ordeal.

The tempestuous weather hath rendered our communication lines inoperable, and I fear I must entrust this letter to a trusted horseman, who shall brave the elements to deliver it to your office.

Master Jonathan, pale and shaken, hath informed me of a most dreadful accident tonight, the particulars of which he hath not yet divulged. I fear for the lives of Lady Eleanor and the young master, who, he believes, may yet cling to life, though grievously injured. I implore you, sir, to dispatch a medical team and an ambulance to our manor, with all due haste, that these poor souls may receive the attention they so desperately require.

Alas, I fear the worst for Lord Raymond, our patriarch, who, I suspect, may have succumbed to his injuries, injuries I can not see nor understand.

I tremble at the thought of conveying this news to the young master, and pray that your prompt action may yet save those who may be saved.

Please, sir, hasten to our aid, and may Providence guide us through this dark hour.

Yours in utmost distress,

Heller F. Finch, Butler to
Lord Raymond Hanns"

Albert read out. But before Jonathan could say a word. He brought out another report and read out loud.



"March 25, 1885

To the Esteemed Chief of Police,
Commissioner Webb

I write to you in utmost urgency and distress, from the manor of my esteemed employer, Lord Raymond Hanns. A most calamitous event hath befallen our young master, Master Jonathan, who hath just returned home, bearing signs of a most grievous ordeal.

The tempestuous weather hath rendered our communication lines inoperable, and I fear I must entrust this letter to a trusted horseman, who shall brave the elements to deliver it to your office.

Master Jonathan, pale and shaken, hath informed me of a most dreadful accident tonight, the particulars of which he hath not yet divulged. He hath brought home Lord Raymond, who, I fear, may be gravely injured. The whereabouts of Lady Eleanor and young Master Michael are, at present, unknown to us.

I implore you, sir, to dispatch a medical team and an ambulance to our manor, with all due haste, that Lord Raymond may receive the attention he so desperately requires. I tremble at the thought of conveying the news of this calamity to the family, and pray that your prompt action may yet save Lord Raymond, should he still cling to life.

Please, sir, hasten to our aid, and may Providence guide us through this dark hour.

Yours in utmost distress,
Heller F. Finch, Butler to Lord Raymond Hanns"


Jonathan's breath seemed to have vanished suddenly.



"Master Jonathan, I must say, I'm perplexed by the turn of events. Your original account stated that Lady Eleanor and young Master Michael were with you, yet now they're nowhere to be found. Pray, tell me, what transpired that night? What befell them? And what do you really know of their whereabouts?"



Jonathan shuddered, as he began to sweat profusely. He was finding it hard to breathe. He had lost his words suddenly.




Heller F. Finch, entered the room with a tray of tea, interrupting Inspector Albert's questioning of Master Jonathan

"Forgive the interruption, Inspector Albert. I see you're discussing the events of that fateful night. I must clarify, sir, that there was only one report, which I sent via a horseman, as the lines were down. I was nervous and worried, sir, and I may have...misspoken in my haste."

"What do you mean? We've received two reports, each with conflicting information."

"Ah, yes, sir. You see, after the lines were restored, I made a call to Commissioner Webb, confirming the details of the second report. It was...a more accurate account, sir. I'm afraid I was overwrought when I wrote the first letter, and...I may have included information that wasn't entirely accurate, you must understand how terrifying it must have been for everyone, "

"And Lord Madeiyas Report?"

"Yes, Inspector. I'm afraid that is something, I have no idea about, Lord Madeiyas is a very cautious man who looks out for his kind, I can see why he may have gotten access to the original report, Another horseman was dispatched with the second letter, which, I'm told, was delivered to the police."


"I see. So, the second report is the accurate one, then?" Albert asked, his eyes on the young heir who had began to ease up now. He felt it, something was still amiss but the butler had made things even difficult.

"Yes, sir. I'm afraid so. I apologize for any confusion caused. I was simply trying to act in the best interests of the family, sir."

There was silence for a brief moment.

“Was your father with anyone in particular that night? Anyone unusual?”

Jonathan relaxed now, thankful to good old heller's intervention, paused. His memory drifted. He recalled his father slipping away from the spectators for a short while, only to return strangely restless, urging their departure soon after. It had seemed insignificant then. Now it gnawed at him.
But he said simply: “No. I can’t remember. If I do… I’ll let you know.”

Albert nodded, studying him for a long moment before standing.



As he left, a sound caught his ear — low, guttural growls, muffled but unmistakable, from somewhere above.

Albert froze.

“It’s only the wind,” Heller said smoothly from the doorway, his composure unbroken.

Albert’s eyes lingered, suspicion etched across his face, but he did not press. With a short nod, he departed.

The heavy front door shut.

Heller’s mask slipped. He exhaled, muttering: “I’ll go feed them.”

Upstairs, Jonathan lingered at the passage, restless. Then a sharp, muffled curse split the silence.

“Sir, the dog, I haven't seen it all day, I bet it is somewhere wrecking something,I will make arrangements for it shortly, ” Heller’s voice cracked.

Jonathan’s stomach turned to ice. Yesterday. He had seen the animal devoured by two monsters, he had seen it and couldn't do anything.

“I don't think you need to worry about the dog anymore, sir,” Jonathan whispered. His voice trembled, yet he forced composure.

"You don't mean?" Heller stopped.


Jonathan stared at the floor boards, grief washing over him. He hadn’t even given the creature a name. Poor thing, dragged into his curse.

“Am I…” Jonathan’s throat tightened. “…am I doing the right thing? Keeping them alive?”

For a moment, Heller hesitated. Then, with a weary, almost fatherly smile, he said, “I don't know sir but I can say one thing, you’re braver than you think, young master.”

But his words rang hollow, more comfort than conviction.

Jonathan turned toward the locked door, his hand twitching as if to reach for it. The growls answered from within.
He stopped. He turned away. He left the hallway in silence.

Part Forty One The Chains and the Gun

Jonathan stood in the hall, the revolver trembling in his hand. The cellar door loomed ahead — locked, but not silent. Low growls leaked through the cracks, like echoes from a nightmare. His chest tightened. He had promised himself he wouldn’t do this again… and yet, here he was.

The key turned. The iron groaned.

Inside, the air was damp, foul with the stench of rot and old blood. Two figures stirred in the dark — his mother and brother, shackled with heavy chains, their eyes glowing faintly in the shadows. Once family. Now something else. Something less human. Something more beast.

The chains rattled as they lunged forward, arms stretching, claws scraping against the floor. They stopped inches short of him, restrained but desperate, like predators scenting prey.

Jonathan raised the gun. His arms shook violently. One squeeze, he told himself. One squeeze, and it ends. Mercy.

But his finger would not obey. He froze. His vision blurred with tears. His heart screamed louder than their growls.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Then he heard it, the bark.

The dog jumped forward fearlessly, baring his teeth at the monsters the darkness hid in front of Jonathan.

"What are you doing, no, go back..."

It was too late, the dog plunged forward and the darkness swallowed it whole.

A sharp yelp and bark and then it was a reap and a tear, blood splattered across and afar as two hungry creatures devoured their attacker almost in an instant.

The weapon slipped from his hand, clattering across the stone floor. Jonathan fell to his knees, sobbing, pleading for forgiveness — forgiveness that could never come.

And then he ran. Fled up the stairs, leaving the gun behind.

The End.

“I am happy,” Caddy replied, adjusting her bracelet. “You should be too. David and I are engaged.”

Patty’s chest tightened. “Engaged?”

“Yes,” Caddy said with a smile that cut like ice. “He proposed last night. Lavish ring, champagne, rooftop dinner — everything a woman dreams of. You know how it goes. He says he doesn't want to live his life without me in out, he wants me to be with him for the rest of his life, me? And I said yes, He is almost magical, I feel reborn, alive in ways I don't yet understand, oh such a thing to be madly in love with a man like david,I swear I cant live without him anymore, I am so embarrassed to say it but it is.”

Patty’s voice trembled. “You took him from me.”

Caddy tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Took? Darling, you can’t take what was never truly yours. David made his choice. You are damaged goods, always has been, that's why all the men keep leaving, I didn't do anything that wasn't going to happen soon, ”

Patty’s tears welled up again. “He loved me.”

“Maybe,” Caddy said, her tone casual, cruelly calm. “But love fades. People move on. That’s life.”

Patty shook her head weakly. “Why do you do this, Caddy? Why do you hurt people who love you?”

Caddy laughed, low and dark. “Because love is weak, Patty. It’s a leash. And I don’t wear leashes..David will be mine, all mine,"

She leaned closer, her perfume sharp, her voice a whisper that burned.

“That niggt after the hangout, you too were drunk, crazy drunk, i brought you two home, you two were so crazy drunk that you two started getting it on right in front of me, It hit something inside of me, I admit, I felt something powerful, anger, jealousy, hatred, loneliness, sadness, I didn’t know what I was doing, So I came back and watched you two, I could see it for the first time, the way, he touched you, kissed you, moaned, this must have been love and I suddenly wanted it so bad, you became an obstacle that minute, something to be dumped in the trash like everyone else does,"


Patty’s voice cracked. “You’re sick.”

Caddy straightened up, a glint of triumph flashing in her eyes.

“No, Patty. I’m free. You are the suicidal one, looking for a way to escape reality, You’ve always been the fragile one — waiting to be chosen, waiting to be loved, waiting for someone to tell you who you are.”

Her tone softened, almost pitying.
“Face it — you were never my equal. You were my shadow. My audience. My background.”

Patty’s lips trembled. “I thought we were sisters.”

“Sisters?” Caddy laughed again, shaking her head. “You were useful. Loyal. Predictable.That’s all.”

Something inside Patty broke with those words.
All the love, the loyalty, the years of sacrifice — shattered in one cruel confession.

But then… something else began to stir.
Calm.
A quiet, deep calm.

Patty looked up at her — and for the first time, didn’t see the goddess she’d always admired.


She saw the emptiness.
The hollow behind the glamour.
The thief who stole without remorse — and would keep stealing until the world turned its back on her.

“Thank you,” Patty whispered.

Caddy blinked. “For what?”

“For finally showing me who you are.”

Caddy smiled, a touch uneasy now. “You’ve gone mad.”

Patty nodded faintly. “Maybe. But I’m free now. And you — you’re trapped. You just don’t know it yet.”

Caddy frowned, straightened her bag, and turned toward the door.
“Well, enjoy your freedom. I have a wedding to plan.”

As she walked out, Patty whispered one last word under her breath.
“Goodbye and Happy Married Life”


Caddy didn’t hear it.
But David, standing at the far end of the corridor — watching, waiting — did.

And the look in his eyes promised that what came next…
would not be forgiveness.
It would be justice.

The sun outside had begun to fade when Patty finally found the strength to sit upright.
For the first time in weeks, she asked for her phone. The nurse hesitated, then handed it over.
Her fingers shook as she typed the message.

“Caddy, I need to see you. One last time.”



The reply came almost immediately.

“Make it quick.”



There was no warmth in it. No sisterhood. Just cold finality.


Hours later, the sound of high heels echoed across the marble of the private hospital ward.
Caddy walked in — glowing, sleek, unbothered.
Every inch of her was designer perfection: the expensive fragrance, the crisp white suit, the confident strut.
But behind it all, her eyes were sharp — the kind that had learned to devour before they blinked.

Patty looked up from her bed, thin and pale, her wrists still faintly bruised from the restraints.

“You came,” she said softly.

Caddy’s lips curved. “Of course. Curiosity always gets me.”

Patty stared at her — long and searching. “You look… happy.”

“I was supposed to be the key,” she whispered.

“At first,” David admitted, guilt slicing through his tone. “At first, yes. You were supposed to help me get to her somehow But then… I saw what she was doing to you too. I saw the way she drained you — made you small, insecure, guilty for her sins. You were her mirror, Patty, not her friend.”

He leaned closer, his hand trembling as it brushed a tear from her cheek.
“She wont stop stealing, Patty. Not until someone stops her.”

Patty looked at him, eyes hollow yet flickering with something faint — the ghost of strength, maybe. “So you came to stop her.”

David nodded. “I came to finish what I started.”

Patty’s gaze dropped to the floor. “And you want my permission.”

“I want your truth,” he said softly. “Patty, the innocent, loving, caring girl, who sees the world in colors, Do you still believe there’s something human left in her?”

Patty turned toward the window. Outside, sunlight spilled across the sky — warm, unreachable.
“I don’t know but she is still my best friend,” she whispered. “But maybe… I need to find out.”

"Fine, then, I want you to know I gave her a chance, a chance she never gave you nor my sister, nor so many lives she has hurt, talk to her and find out your truth,"

“I had to come,” he replied. “I owed you that much.”

Patty looked at him — really looked — and for the first time, she saw it: the storm behind his eyes. A sadness deeper than pity, colder than loss.


Patty gave a dry, broken laugh. “What? To see what’s left of me?”

“No,” David said. “To tell you the truth.”

Patty frowned, her frail hands tightening slightly against the restraints. “The truth?”

David exhaled — a long, heavy breath. “I’m not who you think I am, Patty.”

Her eyes searched his face, confused.

He looked down, then up again, his voice steady but trembling at the edges.
“Years ago… before you and I ever met… Caddy stole something. A purse. From a girl in a mall, her department store job. She thought it was just another thrill, another random grab. But that pulse happened to be the girl's bosses, the boss trusted her to hold on to it for just a minute or two, when the boss came around, the pulse was empty— all the money inside gone,"

Patty’s breathing quickened.

David’s eyes glistened. “That girl was my sister.”

The room froze.

“Our mom was in the hospital, failed kidney, my sister got arrested, She couldn’t pay the hospital bill,” he continued. “My mother died. And my sister was locked up in prison - even our relatives — called her a thief. They didn’t believe her. She was arrested, humiliated, destroyed. She took her life a month after her release.”

He stopped. His jaw clenched, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Later on, I got word from my sister colleagues, they knew who stole the money, Caddy didn’t just steal, Patty. She stole a family. She stole mine.”

Patty’s lips parted. No sound came.

“For years, I hunted her,” David said, his voice cracking. “Every piece of her life — her job, her brand, her reputation — I studied them. I had to admit, I had no way to get to her, People like this, the law never touches, so I waited. I And then I found her that day, in this hospital, she had a best friend… someone close enough to open doors, to trust me— I had hoped not to get you directly involved but when caddy came up to me the way she did, I knew i would never get another opportunity,”

Patty’s tears fell before the truth reached her mouth.
She understood.
He had used her.

Final Act — Part 1: The Ghost in the Bed

Two months later.

The hospital walls were white, too white — sterile, bright, and cruel.
The kind of white that didn’t mean peace, only silence.

Patty lay there, a ghost of herself.
Her skin was pale, her cheeks sunken. The soft curls that once framed her bright, confident face had thinned and dulled, scattered around the pillow like dead petals. Her wrists were bound with soft restraints, not out of punishment but protection — from herself.

Six times she had tried to end it.
Six times she had failed.

Nurses no longer spoke much when they came in; they moved around her with quiet pity, feeding her pills, changing her bandages, whispering to one another as if her soul could shatter at the sound of their voices.

Outside her window, the world went on — people walked, laughed, lived.
Inside her, everything had stopped.

That afternoon was no different.
Or so she thought.

The door creaked open.
A tall figure stood framed by the dim light from the hallway.

For a long moment, Patty didn’t move. Her breath caught. Her swollen eyes blinked — once, twice — as if her mind was playing tricks.

Then she whispered, hoarse, “David?”

He stepped forward. His face had changed — leaner, darker around the eyes. The charm that once danced around his smile was gone, replaced with quiet gravity.

“Patty.”

His voice was soft, guilt-ridden. He pulled a chair close to her bed. The scent of rain still clung to his clothes.

“David?,” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“You see, Patty,” she said, voice smooth and cold as glass, “David is mine now. I took him from you because I wanted to. you are all damaged and useless and I get what I want, always. So you’ll pack your little pride, your tears, and you’ll leave this building before security does it for you.”

Patty’s lips trembled. “Please, don’t do this. Please—”

“Goodbye, Patty.”

Caddy turned and walked out, her heels clicking with measured grace.

Behind her, a sob tore the silence.
Then came the scream — raw, unearthly.
Patty lunged toward the window, tears streaming, body shaking, and before anyone could stop her, she was halfway there—

“STOP HER!” someone yelled.
Two guards rushed in, grabbing her mid-sprint, dragging her away as she wailed, collapsing into their arms.

Outside the room, Caddy didn’t even look back.
She just smiled faintly, straightened her jacket, and whispered to herself:

“One down.”

The Fall

The boardroom was all glass and gloss — executives in neat lines, voices steady as figures and projections flickered across the screen. Caddy sat poised at the far end of the table, every inch the composed strategist, her smile calm, her pen gliding notes in perfect rhythm.

Then came the crash.
A door slammed somewhere outside.
Raised voices.
And suddenly—

Patty burst through the conference doors.

Her hair was wild, her face streaked, and the fury in her eyes sliced through the room like a blade.
The meeting froze.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?” she screamed, pointing straight at Caddy.

Gasps filled the air. The CEO shifted uncomfortably. Someone tried to stand, but Patty’s rage drowned them all.

Caddy’s brow arched slightly. “Patty? What is going on here?”

“What did you do to David?!” Patty’s voice broke. “He said it—he said he doesn’t want me anymore! He said it’s you!”

The room was dead silent.

Caddy blinked once, then let out a low laugh — the kind that made everyone’s skin tighten. “Everyone,” she said smoothly, her voice commanding, “leave us. Now.”

No one dared question. Chairs scraped, papers shuffled, the executives practically fled.

When the door shut, Caddy turned back, her expression shifting — the polite smile melting into something sharp, wicked, and cold.

Patty’s chest heaved. “Tell me it’s not true. Please, Caddy. Tell me you didn’t—”

Caddy stepped closer, her heels echoing. “Didn’t what?” she whispered. “Didn’t f**k him?”

Patty’s knees buckled. “No…”

“Oh, Patty,” Caddy said softly, crouching just close enough for her perfume to sting. “He came to me. Do you know how easy it was? The way he looked at me, touched me? The way he forgot your name halfway through the night?”

Patty let out a sound — not quite a scream, not quite a sob — and crumpled onto the carpet.

Caddy watched her. For a heartbeat, there was silence — and then it came: that surge, that electric rush that coursed through her veins like ecstasy.
The sight of Patty on her knees, broken, trembling — it was intoxicating.
Power.
Pure, unfiltered power.

The Drive

Outside, Caddy’s car purred to life.

She sat for a while, her fingers resting lightly on the steering wheel, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.
Her pulse was wild. Her breath shallow.

That feeling.
That rush.
It had been too long.

She closed her eyes, savoring it—like a symphony rising in her veins.
This wasn’t just about David. It was about control. Power. The game itself.

“A new kind of steal,” she murmured.



She thought back to all the times she’d taken something small—a perfume, a bracelet, a thrill—but this… this would be her masterpiece.
Not an object. Not something she could throw out of a car window afterward.
A person.

A man who belonged to someone else.

She laughed quietly, biting her lip, feeling that pulse between her thighs—raw, electric, alive.

Caddy watched her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Her lipstick perfect. Her eyes sharp.

“Let’s see, Doctor,” she whispered. “How easily you fall.”



Then she drove off, music swelling, her smile never fading.



The Warning

Patty stood by her car, phone pressed to her ear, mid-conversation when a shadow moved behind her.
She turned sharply—and froze.

“Ray…” she whispered, her pulse jerking.

He looked thinner, worn out, but his eyes still carried that restless fire. He raised his hands slightly, trying to calm her.
“Please, Patty. Just a minute. I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, voice trembling.

She shook her head, clutching her bag. “You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.”

“I will,” he said quickly. “I swear. I’m leaving the country tonight. But I couldn’t go without seeing you. Without saying… thank you.”

Patty frowned. “Thank you?”

“For letting me go. I thought I’d die there. You don’t know what that did for me.” He took a cautious step closer. “But that’s not why I came. I came to warn you.”

Her stomach tightened. “Warn me?”

Ray’s voice dropped, almost a whisper. “Be careful of Caddy.”

Patty blinked, startled. “What?”

“I know how she looks—sweet, harmless—but she’s not. I’ve seen her eyes. I know what she is.” His gaze darted around nervously. “People like her... they draw you in, twist you around, feed off you. She’s dangerous, Patty. She’s not who you think.”

“Ray, this is nonsense,” Patty snapped, anger flaring to hide the chill creeping up her spine. “You’re sick. You need help.”

“Maybe,” he admitted softly. “But I know a devil when I see one. And she scared even me.”

Patty shook her head, climbed into her car, and slammed the door. “Goodbye, Ray.”

He stepped back, eyes sad but knowing. “You’ll see it, one day. When it’s too late.”

Patty drove off, her chest tight, his words echoing in her head. A devil... Caddy?
She scoffed aloud, forcing a laugh to drown the unease.
“Ridiculous,” she muttered—yet something in her wouldn’t let it go.

The Visit

David looked up from his desk when the nurse knocked.

“Sir, someone here to see you.”



He hadn’t been expecting anyone.
When the door opened, the surprise nearly knocked the air from his chest.

Caddy.

Only—this wasn’t the same Caddy he’d met in the hospital corridors.
This Caddy was… different. Effortlessly dangerous.
Her perfume entered the room before she did, soft and sharp, like citrus and smoke. Her dress—a deep, liquid red—clung to her in a way that demanded attention. Her hair framed her face perfectly; her smile was practiced, deliberate.

“Doctor,” she said, voice smooth as silk, “I was just around the area and thought—why not say hi?”



David blinked. “Oh. Uh—hi. This is… unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” she teased. “Please. You don’t believe I only talk to you when Patty’s around, do you?”



He chuckled nervously, unsure how to read her tone.

“Well, I guess not. How’s Patty doing today, thought she was helping you team out, today?”



“Yeah, She is Busy,” Caddy said quickly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Meetings, sketches, the usual. You know her.”
A pause. “I was thinking—you and I could grab lunch. She’d approve, I promise. I’m told I’m excellent company when I try.”



David hesitated.
Something about her made him both curious and uneasy.
But she was Patty’s best friend—what harm could lunch do?

“Alright,” he said finally. “Sure, lunch. Just text me the place.”



Caddy smiled, slow and triumphant. “Perfect. 1 p.m., The Marquis Lounge. Don’t be late.”

She turned to leave, heels clicking sharply against the tile, and for a moment David could only watch her go—trying to shake the faint heat crawling up his neck.
He reached for his phone, thought of calling Patty, but stopped halfway. It’s just lunch.
He dropped the phone, sighed, and got back to work.

She helped Patty under one arm, David under the other, half-dragging them into the house. The scent of alcohol clung thickly to them—sweet wine, whiskey, and something else—something warm, careless, almost happy.

It was past 1 a.m.

Caddy dropped her bag on the couch and guided Patty toward the sofa, then turned to David. He was mumbling thanks, smiling that same boyish smile that had begun to irritate her lately.

“You’re not driving anywhere,” she said firmly. “You’ll stay here. Both of you need water, not another drop of anything.”



She fetched water from the kitchen, came back—and froze.

The laughter had changed.

Patty was half in his lap, her hair tumbling across her face. He said something that made her giggle, then kiss his cheek, and then—without warning—it deepened.
A real kiss. Long, messy, clumsy, drunk.

Caddy stood still, the glasses trembling slightly in her hands. She didn’t blink.

Patty’s soft laughter turned into something else—breathless. David pulled her closer, and she let him. The world narrowed in one slow, horrible instant.
The room was dim except for the lamp’s amber light, and in it, they looked almost unreal—like a painting, something she wasn’t meant to see.

Caddy’s pulse thudded hard in her ears.

She told herself to move, to walk out, to turn away—but her legs didn’t listen. Something gripped her chest. Something sharp and strange.
It wasn’t just jealousy—it was confusion, hunger, anger, everything knotted together.

She whispered to herself, “Snap out of it, Caddy.”

But she didn’t move.

She watched Patty’s hands in his hair, David’s fingers tracing her skin, the sound of them laughing between kisses.
Her own breath came shallow. Her throat dry.

Finally, she turned, one hand braced against the door, her face half-turned away.
The sound behind her—soft, rising, almost rhythmic—made her heart slam against her ribs.

Her hand tightened on the door handle.

For the first time in her life, Caddy felt something that terrified her more than rage, more than loss of control.
It was powerlessness.

She pushed the door open slowly, the night air rushing against her burning face. She stepped out, stood still for a moment, then walked to her car.

Inside the silence, her reflection stared back from the windshield—eyes wide, breathing hard.

And for the briefest second… she smiled.
A strange, bitter, trembling smile she couldn’t explain.

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Caddy exhaled, leaned back in her chair, and finally allowed a smirk.

“Fine,” she said. “But if we’re really celebrating, I want something stronger.”



David lifted an eyebrow. “Stronger?”

“Something that’ll make us drink ourselves to stupidity,” she said, her voice laced with challenge.



David laughed softly and waved for the waiter. Patty giggled nervously, relieved at the shift.

“That’s my Caddy,” she said, “always the bold one.”



As the glasses clinked together a few minutes later, Caddy watched them both—their laughter, the lightness between them. She told herself she didn’t care, but even she couldn’t deny the way David’s smile seemed to pull attention without trying.

And yet, as they toasted, her eyes never left his.

“To friends,” David said.
“To loyalty,” Caddy replied, her gaze sharp as glass.



They drank.

And for the first time that night, she wasn’t sure who was watching whom.



The Night at Patty’s House

Caddy’s car rolled quietly into Patty’s compound. The headlights swept across the porch and caught the shape of two people laughing and stumbling by the door.
David and Patty.

They were both drunk—beyond it, really. Patty could barely hold her keys steady, and David’s grin was lazy, his words slurred in some half-charming, half-hopeless attempt to be coherent.

Caddy sighed, stepped out, and took control as usual.

“Alright, lovebirds, let’s go before the neighbors start a blog about this circus.”

He extended a hand, easy and confident.

“Hope I’m not intruding. I thought it’d be nice if we all got together. I wanted to thank you, Caddy, for always looking after Patty. You’re kind of her guardian angel, aren’t you?”



Patty beamed at him, embarrassed. Caddy, however, just looked at him—long and cold.

“Guardian angel,” she repeated, slowly. “Funny choice of words.”



He chuckled lightly. “I only meant it as a compliment.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did.”



There was a moment of silence—one that David filled effortlessly, shifting the tone with his steady charm.

“Listen, I get it. You probably think I’m pulling her away, but I’m not. Patty talks about you all the time. I wanted this to be a night where you two could just relax. I’ll drink to that, if you let me.”



Patty touched Caddy’s hand gently.

“See? He’s trying. Please don’t be mad. Let’s just enjoy this, for me.”

She was waving, smiling from a corner table by the window. She looked radiant—almost unreal. Her skin glowed, her laughter was easy, light. Peaceful. That word struck Caddy like a stone.

When Patty rushed forward and hugged her tight, Caddy froze for a second before returning the embrace—lightly.

“It’s been forever,” Patty said, holding her arms. “You look so good, Cad.”
“Do I?” Caddy’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You, on the other hand, look... different.”



They sat. Patty started talking fast, the way she always did when she was excited.

“I’m sorry for disappearing, truly. I’ve just been so caught up. My brand’s finally kicking off! David helped me connect with a firm that wants to partner for the new collection. It’s all moving so fast—I can’t believe it.”



Caddy stirred her drink quietly, expression unreadable.

“That’s... impressive,” she said after a pause, her tone flat but edged.



Patty frowned, sensing the coolness.

“Cad, don’t be like that. I know I’ve been distant. I’m sorry. I just... needed a little time.”



“Time away from me?” Caddy asked softly, setting down her glass.



Patty hesitated. “Not away. Just... time for me. You’ve always supported me, I thought you’d be happy.”

Before Caddy could answer, a voice came from behind.

“Now that sounds like trouble if I ever heard it,” David said, walking up with that calm, practiced smile. He placed two glasses on the table. “Ladies’ drinks—something light for Patty, something stronger for you, Miss Caddy.”



Caddy’s lips tightened. David. Again.

Kindly like and invite friends to read. Really appreciate it.

Her hand trembled. For the first time, she felt something strange—fear. Not for Patty’s safety, but for her hold over her.

Patty had always run to her. For advice. For comfort. For permission.
Now, she wasn’t running anymore.

Caddy’s eyes burned red with fury.

“You think you’ve found someone better?” she hissed, staring at Patty’s smiling face on the screen. “Let’s see how long this little fairytale lasts"





Then she sat back in her chair, crossed her legs, and stared out the window, whispering to herself:

“Nobody takes what’s mine. Not even you, Patty.”




The Lounge Meeting

Caddy pulled her car into the private section of the Sapphire Lounge and killed the engine. The sound of jazz and laughter spilled faintly through the tinted glass doors. She stepped out, composed but simmering underneath. It had been weeks since she and Patty last met—weeks since David showed up and everything started spinning in a direction she didn’t control.

Inside, the lounge glowed with soft amber lights and quiet chatter. Caddy’s heels struck the marble floor like deliberate punctuation. And then she saw her.

Patty.

She felt her throat tighten. His voice was soft, soothing, wrapping around her like a promise.

“I lost my mom and sister too, they were the most important people to me,” he continued, his tone suddenly more distant. “Many years ago, since then thought I’d never feel again… until you.”



The words melted into her chest, heavy with emotion. Tears threatened to spill as he leaned closer, his gaze locked onto hers.

“You’re kind, beautiful, gentle… innocent,” he whispered. “I’m madly in love with you, Patty.”



It was too much. Too fast. Yet every cell in her body screamed that this—this—was what she had been waiting for. She felt the warmth rise up her cheeks. For the first time in years, she didn’t feel broken.

And then—her phone rang.

Caddy.

Patty’s heart jumped. The screen flashed insistently on the table. She hesitated.

“It’s okay,” David said, his expression calm, eyes never leaving hers. “You can take it.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, the smallest defiance in her tone. “Not tonight.”



With a quiet firmness, she reached over and turned the phone off. The screen went black.
David smiled, slow and satisfied.

“Good,” he said. “Tonight’s just us.”



Patty smiled too, but somewhere far away, a storm was already brewing.




Caddy’s Rage

Across town, Caddy’s bedroom was in chaos.

The phone hit the wall first, followed by the glass cup on her dresser. Her voice rose in a guttural cry, the kind that came from somewhere deep, somewhere unfiltered.

“She switched off her phone? On me?”



The maids outside didn’t dare move. They knew that voice—when Caddy’s temper boiled, you stayed out of her way.

She paced the room, her heels clicking hard against the marble floor, muttering under her breath.

“David this, David that… always David. What does he even want from her?”



She flung open Patty’s photos on her tablet—every picture recently taken with David’s shadow lurking in them. The smiles, the gifts, the glowing eyes.

“He got her a present?” she said with a bitter laugh. “No one—no one—has ever given her something I couldn’t. Not even me.”

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Dinner for Two

The restaurant was quiet, candlelit, the kind of place that invited secrets to be shared. Patty sat across from David, watching the reflection of the golden light dance in his eyes. It was surreal—how easy it was to laugh with him, how natural it felt to just be. They had been talking for hours, sharing stories, half-forgotten dreams, and silly jokes that made her giggle like a schoolgirl.

What surprised her most was how much he already seemed to know—her favorite flowers, the way she hated rain touching her hair, how she preferred her coffee without sugar. She laughed at every coincidence, but deep inside, something about it felt like fate.

“It’s funny,” she said softly, swirling her wine, “you talk like someone who’s known me for years.”
“Maybe I’ve just been waiting for you all this while,” David replied with a charming smile. “Some people take a lifetime to meet the right person.”



She blushed. The words felt heavy, almost too perfect.

They talked about relationships. Patty, hesitant at first, mentioned her past—brushed over the pain, the fear, the long recovery. David reached for her hand gently, his voice low, measured.

“You don’t have to talk about that,” he said, squeezing her palm. “You’ve been through enough, Patty. I can see it in your eyes. You deserve peace now.”

Patty chuckled softly, almost wistfully.

“Maybe I have. But for once, it feels good. To imagine something that isn’t pain.”



Caddy didn’t answer. She just looked at her — this fragile, foolish, beautiful creature she called her best friend.

She wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t.
Because deep down, even she could feel it — something about David was different. His calmness, his presence… there was something she couldn’t quite name.

Still, she muttered,

“Patty, just… slow down. Whatever this is, don’t make it your whole world again.”



Patty smiled, her eyes dreamy.

“You’re just jealous.”



Caddy turned sharply, “Excuse me?”

Patty grinned. “He said you looked fierce. That’s his word. Fierce and hard to impress.”

Caddy froze for a heartbeat. “He said that?”

Patty nodded, mischievous. “Mhm.”

Caddy’s face softened for the briefest second — a flicker of something like curiosity — before she pulled her composure back like a veil.

“What would he know about a strong independent woman, He’s a doctor, not a poet. Let’s keep it that way.”



Patty laughed, light and free, and Caddy forced herself to smile too — but deep inside, something unsettled had started to stir.

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Caddy rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You said that about Raymond. And Samuel. And Yinka. And what’s-his-name—the photographer who disappeared with your debit card?”

Patty laughed despite herself. “Okay, fine, fair. But this one—” she stopped, glancing toward the door, her voice lowering. “I don’t know, he feels… familiar. Like someone I’ve met before. Like I can breathe around him.”

Caddy walked closer, her tone cutting.

“Breathe? Patty, you always ‘breathe’ right before you drown. You’re too trusting, too soft. That’s your problem.”



Patty bit her lip. She looked up at her best friend — the woman who had saved her, protected her, controlled her. “You sound like you hate every man who even breathes near me.”

Caddy scoffed. “No, I just hate idiots who think kindness is love.”

But Patty wasn’t backing down. She leaned forward, eyes bright with a childlike excitement Caddy hadn’t seen in years.

“He’s different, Caddy. I feel it. I even… dream about him. Weird, right? Dreams where he’s beside me. Sometimes we’re walking somewhere beautiful. Sometimes we’re laughing. Sometimes…”



She stopped, embarrassed.

Caddy tilted her head. “Sometimes what?”

Patty smiled shyly. “Sometimes we’re married. Two boys and a girl. The boys look like him. The girl looks like me. I already have names—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Caddy groaned, turning away. “You’ve lost it completely.”