The expensive mistake.

a bold move

Anne sat silently, near the indoor pool. Leaning back on the patio furniture, she expertly twirled a strand of hair around her fingers, her lips painted in a shade that could stop traffic.

Across from her sat her mother, Vivian, a striking figure with sharp features that seemed chiseled by the hands of a sculptor—the kind of woman who could easily dominate any room she entered.

She was glad that Tricelle got the red hair gene and not her.

“Did you hear about Tricelle?” Anne opened the conversation, her voice smooth like silk but laced with disinterest.

Vivian's perfectly manicured nails tapped rhythmically on the table. “Of course, I heard,” she replied, her tone decidedly dismissive.

“But really, what can we do? The doctors know what they’re doing. Besides, this is such a bad time for me. My charity gala is just around the corner, and I can't afford any distractions.”

Anne nodded, suppressing a smirk. She understood her mother’s priorities all too well. The image was everything in their world, and the two women had spent years crafting theirs to perfection. They made sure to avoid bad publicity but even bad publicity was good.

Evan never worried about their image, but she knew that was one of the many reasons he and Vivian had drifted apart. She chose to stay with her mother instead of her father; he was too country-loving and charitable for her. Tricelle had moved out as soon as she started working, so she was oblivious to all the problems.

“You know, we could probably send some flowers,” Anne suggested, raising an eyebrow. Her tone was light, the suggestion a mere throwaway. “A little family love could do wonders for our PR.”

Vivian let out a soft, dismissive laugh, shaking her head. “What good will that do? She’ll be out soon enough, and she’ll still have us to lean on for support. No need to make a scene now. Think about the photos. We need to keep our image pristine for the gala. The press loves our family.”

Vivian smile was devoid of warmth. “You’re right, Mother.” She checked her nails before she continued. “I am still curious, who would try and rob her.”

Vivian leaned closer, a conspiratorial smirk creeping across her lips. “With your lawsuit coming up, maybe someone wanted to get a little extra cash before she loses the company.”

“Maybe…” Anne said flat.

Vivian pushed a few of her blond hair out of her face. “Your sister can stay with us after she has recovered, but I need her to stay out of sight.”

“I have a lawsuit against her, she can’t stay here,” Anne said irritated.

Vivian frowned before she nodded in agreement. Her face suddenly turned into a frown.

“You didn’t discuss the case with anyone?”

Anne slightly shifted in her seat. “No one important, just a handsome stranger that has some stocks invested in the company.” Vivian immediately tensed up.

"Don't worry, he seemed pleased, and I thought that if our plan succeeded, he could also be part of it."

“Who?!” Her mother’s sweet voice had suddenly changed into something dangerous.

“Just some guy, Black was his surname.”

Before Anne could move, Vivian’s hand made contact with her face.

“You fool! If you are talking about Eric Black, our partners will kill us.”

Anne held her cheek, tears forming in her eyes. She was used to her mother losing her temper, but it hurt her every time.

“It’s just some guy mother,”

Vivian, grabbed her phone ignoring Anne’s tears. She quickly scrolled down and found the number she was looking for.

“I always have to clean up your messes,” Vivian said dialing the number.

***

The penthouse stretched across the top two floors of the building, occupying a vast expanse of glass and steel. A grand foyer welcomed Tricelle with wooden floors that glimmered under the warm glow of low-hanging lights. The aroma of expensive cigars lingered in the air.

Tricelle didn’t know how Eric, convinced the doctor to let her be released, but she was glad to be out of the hospital.

“Are you okay?” Eric asked concerned, watching Tricelle scan his home. ‘Does she like it?’ He thought for a moment.

“I am fine, you don’t need to fuss over me,” Tricelle said ignoring the pain pulsing through her side.

Eric could see the pain evident in her eyes. Instinctively, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist to support her weight.

“I will give you a tour later, let’s get you to bed,”

Eric said as he started to lead her towards a spiraling staircase. Tricelle returned a warm smile.

“Thank you”.

Step by step, he escorted her up the spiraling staircase and into a large room. Tricelle tried to walk on her own, but the pain engulfed her. Leaning against him, she breathed in his earthy scent, which made her stomach flutter.

Eric helped Tricelle into a large elegant room. The room was painted a soft lavender, a choice that enveloped the space in a soothing embrace. The delicate hue was complemented by the subtle sparkle of gold accents that framed the soft curves of a lavish queen-sized bed, draped in sumptuous layers of ivory and cream linens. The bed, with its intricately carved headboard, was the centerpiece of the room, adorned with plump silk pillows that looked inviting.

Tricelle couldn’t help but stare.

'Was this one of his women's rooms?'' She thought with a jealous sting.

“Tricelle,” Eric said, his voice smooth, “The police found this.” He took out her phone from his pocket.

Her black phone was a reminder of the horrible night.

Tricelle took the phone, her fingers brushing against his briefly—a spark ignited in that simple exchange. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the pain vanished from her body.

The silence between them lingered before Eric spoke.

“Anton is in the kitchen, I am leaving him here with you if you need anything. I need to leave to go and take care of some business. I also told Anton to put a shirt on the bed for you to sleep in.”

“Thank you…” Tricelled said softly.

With a warm smile, Eric left her in her room, alone. For the first time since the attack, she was alone.

Tricelle stretched her arms above her head, feeling the tension of the day begin to unwind.

After slipping into the oversized t-shirt, she glanced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she could see the weariness in her eyes, a reminder that she was beyond tired.

Sitting on the bed Tricelle switched on her phone, it buzzed in her hand as messages flowed in.

Tricelle quickly read a few of the messages, some were from colleges and others from clients, all wishing her to get better soon.

A warm feeling spread through her, knowing that some would have missed her if she didn't survive.

But the last message sent a sudden chill over her whole body

An anonymous sender: “You think you can hide from us? We will find you.”

Her heart raced as the words sank in, each syllable reverberating in the back of her mind like an ominous echo. She glanced out at the city, wondering how far the reach of the person stretched.

Did they know where she was? Panic surged through her veins.