Lilith's hands shook as she replayed the events of the kidnapping over and over in her mind. Maria's rage had not been simple intimidation—she had tried to kill her. The memory of Maria's fist connecting with her, the sharp edge of anger and jealousy, and the suffocating fear in the abandoned warehouse made her stomach churn. She clenched her jaw, her heart still pounding, and reached for her phone.
"Ivy," she said when the line connected, her voice sharp and tense, "we need to talk. About Maria… and what she tried to do. I can't just let this go."
On the other end, Ivy's calm voice answered, but Lilith could hear the concern behind it. "I know, Lilith. You're right. She tried to hurt you, and this won't go unanswered. But you have to be strategic—rash moves could backfire."
Lilith's grip on the phone tightened. "Strategic? She tried to kill me, Ivy! She doesn't deserve strategy—she deserves to be stopped, completely. I won't let her walk away like this. We deal with her. Fully. No mercy."
Ivy sighed. "We'll make sure justice is served. You won't be alone in this. But you have to stay sharp. Let's plan carefully."
Lilith's hands trembled as she ended the call. She had never felt anger burn through her veins like this before. Maria had crossed every line.
---
Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of her phone. She saw her father's name flashing on the screen. Her stomach twisted. She hesitated but answered, her voice wary.
"Lilith," his tone cut through her like steel. Cold, hard, and cruel. "You will come back to the house. Immediately."
"I'm not coming," Lilith said firmly, shaking her head. "Not after what I've been through. The kidnapping, the danger… I just went through hell!"
Her father's voice deepened, each word oozing with malice. "Do you think I care about your excuses? You will come. You will do as I say."
Lilith's pulse raced. "And if I don't?"
"You will regret it," he said, his tone low, venomous. "Your mother is at the house. You have three hours. Be there, or face consequences that will make everything you've suffered look like a blessing."
Lilith froze, her blood running cold. "Mother… what did you do to her?!"
Her father's laugh was a knife in her chest. "Do not question me. She's where I say she is. If you have any sense, you will be there on time." The line went dead, leaving Lilith staring at the phone, trembling with a mix of fear, anger, and disbelief. Her father was no empty threat—he was serious, dangerous, and cruel. Hatred burned in her chest, hot and consuming, mirroring the fury in her father's voice.
---
Determined not to waste a second, Lilith hailed a cab to St. Avelora Private Hospital, where she knew her mother might have been taken in case of emergency. Her thoughts were chaotic, every second racing as her mind replayed the kidnapping and Maria's assault. She needed answers, and she needed them now.
At St. Avelora, the nurse at the front desk recognized her immediately. "Lilith, we were expecting you. I'm afraid your mother was taken by her husband earlier today. He didn't leave a forwarding address. She was fine, but—"
It dawned on Lilith like a thunderclap. Her father's threats were not empty. He had the power, the reach, and the cruelty to follow through. Her mother was in his hands. Hatred, twice as fierce as anything she had felt before, surged through her veins. Her fists clenched. Her jaw tightened. She would not let him think he had control.
"Take me there," Lilith said, voice trembling but sharp. "I'm going to my father's now."
The cab ride felt endless, each passing street a reminder that time was slipping away. She barely registered the city around her. Thoughts of Maria, of the kidnapping, of her father's malice, collided in her mind. Rage and determination fused into a single, driving force: she would confront her father, rescue her mother, and no one—not Maria, not Robert, not her father—would intimidate her again.
Her mind replayed every detail of what had happened: the warehouse, the suffocating fear, Maria's slap, the drugged handkerchief, and her rescue. All of it fueled her resolve. She was done being a pawn. She would act, and she would act now.
As the cab approached her father's estate, her heart raced. Hatred and fury burned in her chest, mirrored by every memory of injustice she had suffered. She was not the same girl who had walked home alone days before—she was someone forged in fear, fire, and resolve.
---