PHOENIX

9| WHO WAS SHE CALLING?

Jackson had discovered that Melissa was staying in the same hotel he was in. Driven by a mix of curiosity and unresolved feelings, he decided to follow her, hoping to uncover what she was up to. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to get some clues about her activities.

For the past thirty minutes, he had been sitting in his car in the parking lot, eyes trained on the hotel entrance. He was prepared to wait as long as necessary, even if it meant spending his entire day in the car. He had nothing else to do, and this mission had become his singular focus.

As the minutes ticked by, he pulled out his phone and started playing Candy Crush to pass the time. He kept one eye on the game and the other on the entrance, his mind wandering back to his memories of Melissa. It was just past eight in the morning, and he remembered how she was never an early riser. On weekends, she often slept in until eleven if she had no plans. He sighed, frustrated that he still remembered these details about her.

The betrayal still stung deeply. What she had done to him went beyond a simple betrayal. She had almost cost him his life, and the scars from that time hadn’t fully healed. He shook his head, trying to shake off the bitterness that threatened to overwhelm him.

As Jackson played Candy Crush, he kept glancing at the hotel exit, growing more restless with each passing minute. An hour had gone by, and still no sign of Melissa. Doubt began to creep in. Maybe she had left earlier, and he had been wrong about her habits. After all, he had been mistaken about many things when it came to her.

Just as he was about to give up, the hotel doors swung open and there she was. Melissa stepped out, her eyes scanning the parking lot. She reached into her bag, pulled out her phone, and dialled a number, holding it to her ear as she continued to look around. Jackson's heart pounded in his chest. Who was she calling?

He watched her lips move as she spoke briefly, then ended the call. Almost immediately, a car pulled up beside her. Jackson tensed as that man with a big scar across his face got out of the front seat and opened the back door for her. She slipped her phone back into her bag and climbed into the car without hesitation. The man closed the door behind her, casting a quick, suspicious glance around the parking lot before getting back into the driver’s seat and driving off.

Jackson stayed put for a few moments, wary of any lookouts who might be watching for tails. When the coast seemed clear, he started his car and followed in the direction they had gone, maintaining a safe distance.

It didn’t take him long to catch up to them as they were driving at a moderate speed, seemingly not in a rush. Jackson tailed them as they headed towards the city, his mind racing with possibilities of where they might be going and why. After a while, the car veered onto the highway, heading towards the mall.

Jackson’s heart skipped a beat. He remembered how they had nearly spotted him the previous day. Determined not to repeat that mistake, he took a different route, hoping to outsmart them. He thought to take a shortcut that would bring him to the mall before they arrived. This way, he could position himself strategically to observe without being detected but there was none, except for the one they took.

He pressed down on the accelerator, praying he wouldn’t get a speeding ticket. The anxiety gnawed at him, but he knew he had to stay focused. As he approached the mall, he scanned the area for any police presence but saw none. Breathing a sigh of relief, he entered the sprawling parking lot, his eyes darting from car to car.

While he didn’t see the car, Jackson spotted the scarred man standing in front of a clothing store—Melissa’s favourite store, to be exact. He realized now she hadn’t been lying about her preference, only about how often she frequented the place.

When they were dating, he had asked her about her favourite clothing store. She casually mentioned that particular boutique and he immediately thought she was lying. He suspected she was downplaying her tastes because she knew he couldn’t afford to buy her anything expensive.

The store name sounded upscale, and he couldn't shake the feeling she was sparing his feelings. She didn’t talk much about the shop, which only fueled his doubts. He started to believe she only went there with him and not on her own. Though the store wasn't particularly pricey, the clothes were stylish and of decent quality.

Melissa had never explicitly said she came from a wealthy family, but Jackson had never been under any illusion about her background. From the moment he laid eyes on her in that bar, her polished demeanour and effortless grace had screamed privilege. She was the kind of girl who had never known the struggles that had shaped his own life—never gone to bed hungry, never worried about where her next meal would come from.

She always used an Uber when she came to his place, a small detail that had always struck him as peculiar. Not once had she asked him to drop her off at her house, and now he wondered if it was because she didn’t want him to see where she lived. From their conversations, he had gathered that she still lived with her father, a man who had raised her alone after her mother died when she was around five.

Jackson found a secluded parking spot with a clear view of the front door of the store. His eyes stayed glued to the man, who appeared to be engaged in a conversation through an earpiece. The realization struck Jackson that they weren’t alone in the mall; there had to be others involved, keeping an eye on Melissa and her surroundings.

Scanning the area, Jackson ensured no one was watching him. This covert operation was starting to feel more perilous than he had anticipated. He began to question his decision to follow Melissa Roy. There were other, potentially safer targets in the Roy family he could have tailed. The head of the family was obviously off-limits, but Richard, or Ric as he was known, the teenage son from Roy's second marriage, and Matthew, Melissa’s older cousin, were possibilities.

Matthew "Matt" Martins, the son of Mia Roy-Martins, was an heir to Reed Martins’s empire. Jackson had learned that Matthew spent more time at his uncle’s house than his father’s. Rumour had it that Mia Roy-Martins had been as ruthless as her brother and father, perhaps even more so, and her son seemed to have inherited this ruthlessness, along with his father’s inhumanity.

Reed Martins’s reputation for cruelty was legendary, and if Matthew had indeed inherited his parents' traits, he was undoubtedly a very dangerous man. Although Matthew was the same age as Jackson, the latter knew not to underestimate him. Despite this, following Matthew seemed less intimidating than trailing Roy.

Jackson knew little about the young boy Ric, but if the child had inherited even a fraction of his father's personality, he would inevitably start making his mark in the city. If he hadn't already begun, it was only a matter of time.

Jackson kept his distance, watching intently as the large man continued his conversation through the earpiece. It was clear that whoever he was talking to, they were coordinating their movements. Jackson felt a chill run down his spine; this wasn’t just a simple errand. These people were methodical and well-prepared.

When the man finally went inside the store, Jackson knew Melissa was finished shopping. His hunch was confirmed moments later when the man emerged, laden with bags, followed closely by Melissa. This time, she didn’t wait for him to open the car door; she slid into the front passenger seat with a practised ease that suggested familiarity with the routine. The man placed the shopping bags in the back seat and then got into the driver’s seat.

Jackson’s eyes widened slightly as he saw two other cars pull out behind them, clearly following the SUV. If he had followed them immediately, he would have been caught in the web of surveillance. He exhaled slowly, grateful for his cautious approach. He waited a few minutes, ensuring the coast was clear before he started his car and began to follow the convoy at a safe distance.

When Jackson was confident that his car wouldn't attract attention, he slowly pulled out of the parking lot and continued his pursuit. The convoy headed toward the town centre, and he kept a safe distance, maintaining a careful watch. They eventually stopped in front of a high-end restaurant, its polished exterior gleaming in the morning sun.

Jackson parked a few blocks away and observed. Melissa exited the car briskly, not waiting for the big man to open her door. The men in the trailing cars exchanged puzzled glances, clearly uncertain about this deviation from the routine. Jackson shared their confusion. Melissa seemed to be on a mission.

His curiosity peaked when a man in his mid-fifties emerged from the second car, the one sandwiched between the two escort vehicles. Melissa approached him with a wide smile, embracing him warmly and kissing his cheek. The man responded affectionately, kissing her forehead and ruffling her hair with a tenderness that suggested a deep familial bond. Her radiant smile in return was genuine, not the guarded or calculating expression she often wore these days.

Jackson watched, his heart thudding in his chest, as the man glanced in his direction. Their eyes met briefly, and Jackson felt a shiver run down his spine. It was as if the man knew exactly who he was and why he was there. The brief moment of eye contact felt like an eternity, filled with unspoken warnings.

When Jackson saw the man’s face, a chilling realization washed over him. He had seen pictures of this man before, plastered in news articles and whispered about in dark corners. The resemblance between the man and Melissa was unmistakable—the same piercing eyes, the same sharp features. Heck, he even had pictures that were sent to him when he needed information about the Roy family. This man was Roy himself.

He swallowed hard but resisted the urge to flee. It was a risky move, staying put under such scrutiny, but he needed to know more. This was the closest he had been to understanding the dynamics within the Roy family, and he wasn’t about to squander the opportunity.

Jackson’s breath caught in his throat when the man looked in his direction again. He knew he had been venturing into dangerous territory, but to be so close to the infamous Roy was both a stroke of luck and a perilous risk. The casual, almost tender interaction between father and daughter added layers of complexity to the already convoluted situation.

Roy and Melissa entered the restaurant, followed closely by the entourage. Jackson remained in his car, his mind racing. Jackson retrieved his phone, snapping a few photos of the restaurant’s exterior and the license plates of the cars. He then used a voice memo to record his observations and thoughts, knowing that every detail could be crucial later.

After a few moments, he decided to follow them inside. It was a bold move, but staying outside wouldn't yield any more information.

The restaurant’s interior was as opulent as its exterior. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the walls were adorned with fine art. Jackson scanned the room discreetly, spotting Melissa and the man at a secluded table near the back, surrounded by a few of the big guys who had been trailing them. They were deep in conversation, their body language relaxed yet attentive.

Jackson requested a table near enough to observe but not so close as to arouse suspicion. He ordered a coffee and pretended to be engrossed in his phone while keeping his ears open for any useful snippets of their conversation.

His mind raced with the implications. Roy was the puppet master, the man pulling the strings of a vast and shadowy empire. To see him in person, interacting so normally with his daughter, made the danger all the more real. Jackson’s mission had just become exponentially more hazardous.

He continued to watch as Roy and Melissa continued their conversation. Roy's demeanour was relaxed but authoritative, a stark contrast to the cold-blooded criminal mastermind Jackson had imagined. This was a man who commanded loyalty and fear with equal ease. Melissa’s deference to him spoke volumes about their relationship and her place in the family hierarchy.

The bodyguards remained vigilant, their eyes scanning the restaurant, occasionally landing on Jackson’s table. He kept his movements minimal, feigning interest in his coffee and phone, but his mind was a whirl of strategy and survival.