"What do you mean he's been moved?"
Victor's voice wasn't just loud; it was jagged, the kind of sound that made the expensive crystal decanters on his mahogany desk rattle. He gripped the receiver so hard his knuckles turned the color of bone.
"Boss, we went in through the service entrance like you said," the voice on the other end crackled, frantic and thin. "Checked the chart, found the room... but the bed was stripped. Clean. No monitors, no Luke. We asked the night nurse, but she said the transfer was handled by a private transport team. Top-tier security. High-level confidentiality, Victor. There's no paper trail."
A 'private team' doesn't just materialize in the middle of a municipal hospital!" Victor slammed his free hand onto the desk, sending a stray fountain pen rolling onto the plush carpet. "I paid you to finish the job, not to give me a bedtime story about ghosts. If Luke Philip wakes up and starts talking to the wrong people, it won't just be my career on the line. I'll make sure yours ends in a concrete jacket. Find him. Now."
He didn't wait for an answer. He slammed the phone back onto its cradle with a violent clack that echoed through the silent home office.
Victor leaned back, rubbing his temples. His chest heaved. In the world of 1985 real estate, he was the king, but this felt like the ground was shifting beneath his throne. Someone was playing a game he hadn't authorized.
The heavy oak door creaked open.
"Victor? Is everything alright? I heard shouting."
He smoothed his expression instantly, the mask of the powerful CEO sliding back into place as he looked up at Claudia. She looked tired—paler than usual, her silk robe cinched tight against the evening chill
."Just a disagreement with a contractor, honey," he lied, his voice dropping an octave into a forced calm. "Nothing to worry about. Go back to bed Claudia"
Claudia didn't move. Instead, she walked over and took his hand. Her touch was cold, but her grip was surprisingly firm. "Come with me," she whispered. "Please."She led him down the dimly lit hallway to the room at the very end—the room that smelled eternally of ozone and sterile linens. The hum of the ventilator was the only heartbeat the room had.
There lay Jane.
She looked like a porcelain doll under the heavy blankets, her skin almost translucent. Claudia moved to the side of the bed, reaching out to stroke their daughter's hair.
"The doctor came by while you were in the office," Claudia said, her eyes shimmering with a fragile, dangerous hope. "He noticed a change in her pupillary response. And look, Victor..."
She took Jane's limp hand in hers. "Earlier, when I spoke to her, I felt a twitch. Just a tiny one. She's coming back to us. I know she is. She's fighting."
Victor stared at his daughter, the girl whose "accident" had been the catalyst for his most desperate lies. A cold stone settled in his stomach. If Jane woke up, the truth about that night on the roof would wake up with her
."That's... that's wonderful news, Claudia," he forced out, his voice thick with a lie he wasn't sure he could sustain.
He looked at his daughter, and for the first time, he wasn't sure if he was praying for her to wake up, or terrified of what she would say when she did.
Victor moved closer to Claudia and gently pushed her head to his chest giving it a slight kiss.
"I can't wait for her to get back too"
***********************************************************************************
The house felt too small. The air in the hallway was thick with the scent of pine cleaner and the muffled hum of a television downstairs—sounds of a life I didn't belong to. I mumbled a "Hey, Mom" as I passed the kitchen, not even waiting for a look-back. My voice felt like it was coming from a radio in another room.I took the stairs two at a time, my hand dragging heavy on the banister.
The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, I dropped onto the bed. The mattress was soft—too soft—sinking under me like a trap. I stared at the ceiling, my chest tight. In 2024, I ran a company. I handled million-dollar pivots and cutthroat boards. Here, I was a girl in a 80's dress hiding from a shadow.
Victor.
I couldn't stay down. I stood up, the floorboards groaning under my feet as I started to pace the narrow strip of carpet between the bed and the window.The dots were merging into each other. Victor didn't just want me gone; he wanted the narrative sealed. He paid Luke to point the finger at "Alexa," to make me the face of whatever happened to Janet. But Luke got greedy. In the business world I came from, you don't pay a blackmailer twice; you pay a hitman once.
The "accident" outside the office wasn't bad luck—it was a corporate liquidation.I stopped by the window, looking out at the dim streetlights.If Victor wanted Luke dead to silence him, then who the hell took him from that hospital bed? If not the police then who?. It was someone with enough muscle to bypass Victor's reach but enough discretion to leave no paper trail. A ghost in the machinery.
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass. Victor was the fire, but there was a cold wind blowing from somewhere else. Someone else was on the board, playing a game I hadn't even read the rules for yet.They didn't save Luke out of the goodness of their heart. In this city, you only steal a witness if you want to use them as a weapon.
I looked at my reflection in the dark glass. Alexa's face, but my eyes. Victor thinks he's managing a crime scene, but he's actually mid-hostile takeover. He wants me to be the villain? Fine. He's about to find out what happens when the "victim" starts reading the fine print in his head.
I moved away from the window and went for the door, I couldn't just sit here. In my world, a CEO doesn't wait for a quarterly report to see if the company is sinking—they go to the floor. If I was going to survive 1985, I needed the real answer.I headed back downstairs.
The house was quieter now, the air cooler. I saw Aunt Marie by the hallway, her hand already on the light switch, ready to plunge the house into darkness. My mother had clearly already retreated to the safety of sleep."Aunt Marie?"She jumped slightly, her hand dropping.
"Alexa? I thought you went to bed"
"I just... I couldn't sleep," I said, stepping into the dim living room. I sat on the edge of the floral sofa, trying to look smaller, more like the girl she expected.
"i was thinking of how everything happened, from the accusation to the arrest to the trial. Aunt Marie... could you please tell me the cops version of how they thought i pushed ...Janet?"
"Marie sighed, a long, weary sound, and sat in the armchair opposite me. She looked at me with a mix of pity and exhaustion. "It's the trauma, honey. Anyone would be confused after being dragged off in handcuffs for something they didn't do."
"I just need to hear it again," I pressed, keeping my voice soft, pleading. "What exactly did the police say that day? Who was there when they came for me?"
Marie's eyes narrowed slightly,she didn't look comforted; she looked suspicious. Her eyes searched mine, scanning for the niece she knew. "Why are you asking this now? You were there, Alexa. You heard them. You screamed at them until your voice gave out."
"I know I was there," I lied, leaning into the 'trauma' angle. "But it's like my brain blocked it out to protect me. I need to know their exact words."
Marie leaned in, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "They said the witnesses saw you on the roof looking shocked. They said you stood there frozen, just looking at Jane. They think you were waiting to make sure she wouldn't wake up." She grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly tight. "Alexa, i know i supported you in finding justice for your father by working at that company but please don't go too far."
"I just feel like I'm missing something important, wouldn't you want to know the real culprit behind that false accusation?" I countered.
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Alexa, listen to me. Are you trying to investigate this yourself? Is that what this is? Your father... he died because he started asking questions he shouldn't have. He thought he could outsmart men like Victor and James. And look where it got him.What if the real culprit eventually comes for you?"
She reached out, grabbing my wrist.Her skin was dry, her grip desperate.
"Leave it to the police. Let it go. If you keep poking at the past..." she paused. "I pray you do not end up like him but is that what you want? To leave your mother all alone?"
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. She wasn't just worried; she was terrified. She knew the "accident" that killed my—no, Alexa's—father was no accident at all.
"I just wanted to know if I missed anything," I said, pulling my hand back slowly. "Just some stuff about the arrest. I'm not looking for trouble, Auntie."
"The past is a grave, Alexa," she said, standing up and finally hitting the switch. The room went black. "Don't go digging in it unless you're ready to climb in yourself."
The darkness of the living room felt heavier than before. Aunt Marie's footsteps faded down the hall, followed by the soft click of her bedroom door. I stood there for a moment, the silence pressing against my eardrums like deep water.
"The past is a grave."
I climbed the stairs again, but this time I didn't rush. I moved like a shadow in someone else's house. Back in my room, I didn't turn on the light. I didn't want to see the lace curtains or the teenage posters that belonged to a girl who was currently in another timeline.
I crawled back onto the bed, fully clothed. My mind, usually a high-speed processor of data and logistics, was starting to fray at the edges. In 2024, I could have made a phone call, hired a private firm, and frozen Victor's assets by morning. Here, I had a mind-reading ability that felt like a curse and a family that was terrified of the truth.
I pulled the quilt up to my chin. The fabric smelled faintly of lavender and old wood—scents that didn't exist in my sterile, high-rise apartment in the future.
Victor killed him, I thought, the realization finally settling in the pit of my stomach. He killed Alexa's father, framed the daughter of trying to kill his own daughter, and took the company. And now, he's trying to finish the job with Luke.
But he didn't count on one thing. He didn't count on the "victim" having the brain of a shark.
Tomorrow, I'd go into that office. I'd walk past the secretaries and the beige computers. I'd sit at my desk and I'd listen. I'd listen to every dark, jagged thought in that building until I found the crack in Victor's armor.
If this was a grave, I wasn't the one climbing in. I was the one holding the shovel.
I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion finally pull me under. The last thing I heard was the distance sound of a siren before i drifted off to sleep.