Ellen’s POV – Novel Drama

I sat in my room, a bottle of Pinot Noir open beside me, letting the events of the past few days churn in my mind like a chaotic wind. Liz and Gabriel had been arrested on charges of physical abuse. The similarities in their cases were striking: both pieces of evidence implicated Kamille.

If Kamille was dead, who the hell was working on her behalf?

I racked my brain, trying to remember if Kamille had any close friends from high school. None came to mind—I’d made sure of that. College? Any friends then? After college, before and after her marriage to Zeke? I couldn't recall a single name. Kamille had meticulously kept her distance, avoiding people like the plague.

"Fuck!" I cursed inwardly, groaning in frustration. I grabbed my wine glass from the bedside table and took a sip.

"Yes! That's it!" I exclaimed, setting the glass down.

Back in college, there was that nerdy medical student who’d clung to Kamille—a naive, shy girl who later became a doctor. That was Kamille's only friend. But what could a timid person like her possibly do? I closed my eyes, trying to recall her name or face. It was a waste of time. Becky would know her.

I called Becky's office, but reached voicemail. "I'm sorry, but the person you are trying to reach is unavailable at this time," the automated voice announced.

Why the hell was she unavailable?

Sighing heavily, I ended the call, tossed my phone aside, and poured another glass of wine. After finishing it, I lay down, finally drifting off to sleep.

My phone buzzed, jolting me awake. "Who the hell is that?" I muttered, unlocking the screen to find a message from Max, my personal guard—assigned by Mr. Finley to tail Zeke.

The attached photo made my eyes widen: Zeke, hand in hand with a woman whose face was obscured. Sleep was the furthest thing from my mind.

"Who's this woman? Could she be the same one from his mansion?" I murmured, my mind racing.

I quickly texted Max: "Who is she? And why is she with Zeke?"

His reply came moments later: "Sorry, couldn't get a clear shot of her face. But they seemed pretty cozy."

Rage and hatred surged through me. "Keep watching Zeke. Let me know if anything else comes up," I typed.

Pacing my room, frustration boiled over. I ranted about what I'd do to the mystery woman. "I'll tear her apart," I muttered through clenched teeth. "Who does she think she is, getting cozy with Zeke? She's going to regret ever crossing paths with our family."

My voice rose with each venomous word. "I'll make her pay! She won't know what hit her."

Suddenly, I heard my father's footsteps. He entered, concern etched on his face. I shoved the photo into his hands. "Look at this! Zeke's with another woman, Dad. I need to find out who she is and what she's doing with him. Why is he flaunting his whore for the whole world to see?"

My father's expression darkened as he studied the photo. "Ellen, listen to me," he said gravely. "I understand your anger, but we can't act rashly. If you find this woman, don't confront her physically. We need to handle this quietly."

I paused, but my outrage remained. "But Dad, she's part of whatever's going on with Zeke. We can't ignore her!"

He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I know, Ellen. We're not going to ignore her. You'll use a slow, cunning approach to get her out of the picture. But our priority is finding the children. We'll deal with this woman later."

His suggestion sparked a sinister smile. "Oh Dad, you're a genius. No wonder I'm your daughter." He smiled.

"What do you intend to do when you find the kids?" I asked, uncertain.

His expression grew distant. "Leave that to me," he replied cryptically. "I know what needs to be done."

"But Dad, what do you mean?" I pressed.

He sighed, his features softening. "Ellen, focus on getting Zeke," he said firmly. "Leave the rest to me."

"Okay, Dad. I trust you." If he said so, he meant it.

"I must leave now," he said, rising.

"Where are you going?"

He paused at the doorway, a faint smile on his face. "I'm going to the office to meet with some shareholders," he replied. "There's an investor interested in our company."

I furrowed my brow. Who'd be foolish enough to invest now? But I knew better than to pry. "Alright, Father. See you later." Besides, extra cash wouldn't hurt.

After he left, I finished my wine and picked up my phone to browse the internet. A gentle knock came on my door, followed by my mother's voice. "Hello, Ellen. Are you in there?"

"Yes, Mother. I am."

She entered quietly, holding a bowl of biscuits. "Here," she said, offering them.

"Thank you, Mom," I said gratefully.

She lingered, concern in her eyes. "Don't overwork yourself, Ellen," she said softly. "Mr. Finley's on the payroll, and your dad's overseeing things."

I offered a reassuring smile, hiding my turmoil. "I've got this, Mom," I replied, understanding her worry. Two of her children were in detention; who knew, I might be next. "You should rest. You've been working hard too," I said dryly.

My mother nodded reluctantly, her worry lingering. She left.

My phone buzzed—a message from Max:

The kids are staying with Zeke at his penthouse. They’re enrolled in a private school owned by one Mr. Christopher George.

I clenched my fists in frustration.