Ellen’s POV

Father had said we would receive news by noon regarding his instructions for Zeke’s children. He’d ordered their car to be rammed, causing an accident that would kill them. His men were to attack when Zeke’s security was lax, targeting the children on their way to school.

We’d received no feedback, and dusk was approaching. A growing unease, bordering on nausea, washed over me. What the hell had happened?

Father and I sat in the living room, watching the TV for news about Zeke’s cars, but nothing aired. His brow furrowed; his eyes glued to his phone as we waited for the crucial update from Mr. Finley.

Ring! Ring!

Father answered. “What took you so long?” he roared.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve been compromised,” Mr. Finley replied.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Father demanded, his anger evident.

“The children were intercepted,” Mr. Finley’s voice crackled. “Our men were taken down, but we believe the children were rushed to the hospital.”

My father’s grip tightened on the phone. “Who? Who interfered?” he demanded urgently.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we have no idea,” Mr. Finley replied grimly. “The scene was wiped clean.”

Frustration surged. “What about the children? Their condition?” I interjected, fear lacing my voice.

Mr. Finley’s reply was disheartening. “Shock and minor bruises,” he reported. “They’re hospitalized at Reid Hospital. That’s all we know.”

Why didn’t they just die?!

My father nodded grimly. “Keep us updated,” he instructed, hanging up and throwing the phone on the table.

“Father,” I called.

“Hmmm,” he responded, massaging his forehead.

“Who saved them? Besides Zeke, who could cover their tracks so well?” I asked, apprehensive. Knowing your opponent is easier than fighting an unknown enemy.

“I don’t know, Ellen,” he admitted, frustrated. “We’ll leave it to the investigators.”

I sighed, the uncertainty heavy. “Okay,” I conceded, my heart unsettled.

“I have a six p.m. meeting,” Father said, rising. “I’ll leave you now.”

“But Father, isn’t it too late? What about Mother?” I asked.

“We’re securing a major investment; all hands are needed. Your mother has an in-house nurse,” he replied, going upstairs.

He soon returned in a suit, briefcase in hand. Security collected his briefcase and escorted him out.

As he left, I wondered about this investor. Father was desperate, given our plummeting stock prices. But a sickening feeling churned in my stomach.

I kept my thoughts to myself; he had enough on his plate. I sighed.

The silence of the living room settled over me. My thoughts drifted to Liz and Gabriel, my siblings in detention. Would they care if it were me?

I recalled Liz’s last visit, wondering if she’d truly lost it. I hadn’t visited Gabriel; I had nothing to say to him. At least Father ensured they weren't mistreated.

A message notification interrupted my thoughts. Curious, I checked my phone, momentarily forgetting Liz and Gabriel.

Mr. Reid has been in the casino for over two hours. He was in the private lounge alone, no visitors.

X

A sly smile touched my lips. This was my chance. I quickly ran a bath, dried my hair into a bun, applied subtle makeup, and chose a form-fitting black dress, sleek heels completing the look.

Admiring my reflection, excitement surged. “Here goes nothing,” I murmured, mischief in my eyes.

I went downstairs and instructed my driver to take me to Reid’s casino. Anticipation mounted with each passing moment. Today, I would act, and nothing would stop me.

At the casino, I dismissed my driver, instructing him to wait for my call. Since I wasn’t his wife, I couldn't use the private wing and had to enter through the main entrance.

Navigating the crowd, my heart pounded. Reaching the private lounge, I encountered familiar security guards.

“Good evening, Miss Manor,” one greeted me.

“Evening,” I replied coolly. “I need to speak with Mr. Reid. It’s urgent.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Manor,” another guard interjected firmly. “Mr. Reid isn’t receiving visitors.”

I clenched my jaw. “This is important. I need to see him now.”

The guards exchanged glances. “I’m afraid we can’t help you. You’ll have to leave.”

“He knows I’m coming. I’m here all the time,” I lied.

“We can’t help you without a prior appointment,” the familiar guard said.

Frustration boiled. “I don’t fucking need an appointment!” I insisted.

My protests were ignored. “Do you even know who I am?” I demanded.

Another guard arrived. “You’re Reymond Manor’s daughter,” he replied dismissively. “But that doesn’t change the rules.”

Before I could retort, they moved to remove me. Just as they touched me, a familiar voice called out, “Wait!”