Five years ago…
Narrator
It was a bright, beautiful morning. The city had just begun to stir—streets clearing from last night's lull, sunlight pouring in slow golden streaks through glass and concrete.
Elizabeth sat behind the wheel, dressed once again in her well-crafted disguise. She wore a black flat cap pulled low over her forehead. A heavy, bushy beard and thick mustache clung to her face like a second skin. Her black long-sleeved shirt and wool vest gave her the look of an old-school Uber driver. Add in the plain trousers, dark socks, and scuffed loafers—she could've easily passed for a man.
Her long, toe-length hair was tucked beneath a thick hair net and pressed tight under the cap. She looked nothing like herself—and that was the point.
In the backseat sat Adira, Sharon's mother. Dressed simply in a pale-colored mufti, dark sunglasses, and a silk scarf knotted at her neck, she exuded a graceful charm. Sunlight kissed her fair skin, making her glow beneath the car's windowpane.
Adira studied her driver for a moment, a slight smile forming.
"So… Rodriguez, is it? That's quite the name. Sounds like someone with a few stories to tell."
Elizabeth smiled, eyes fixed on the road.
"Maybe one or two. Nothing exciting—just lucky to be around good people, that's all."
Adira turned back toward the window. "Where are you from, Rodriguez?"
"Brazil. Rio de Janeiro."
There was a pause. Adira tilted her head slightly, as if detecting something feminine in the voice—but she didn't press. Maybe, she thought, Rodriguez was just one of those men with a softer tone.
"Careful," Adira said playfully. "You're starting to sound like a politician."
Elizabeth chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment, ma'am. As long as I don't have to give a speech."
"Smart and modest." Adira sighed softly, relaxing into her seat. "My daughter surrounds herself with business people who only talk numbers. You're different."
"I've been described that way before," Elizabeth replied lightly. "I've stopped fighting it."
"Good. The world needs more people who are quietly sure of themselves." Adira smiled. "So… do you spa often, or is this your first accidental kidnapping by a client's mother?"
Elizabeth snorted. "First official one, yes. But I've been told I have the kind of face that says, 'I drive and smile on command.' Must be why I got assigned."
Adira laughed—a deep, genuine laugh.
"Well, it's working. I appreciate the company. Some mornings are better with someone who doesn't force silence… or small talk."
"I'll aim for the in-between, then. Just enough chatter to keep us both awake."
"Perfect." She snapped her fingers. "You're hired. Again."
Elizabeth laughed with her. She couldn't help but be charmed by Adira's warmth. She was nothing like her daughter, Sharon—stern, commanding, often distant. Elizabeth had sensed it the very first day they met.
She liked Adira better. That much was certain.
Soon, the white Mercedes GLE-350 eased into the spa's parking area. The sun was now higher in the sky, casting a light that made everything feel calmer.
Elizabeth parked with practiced ease.
"You know, Rodriguez," Adira said as she unbuckled her seatbelt, "I've been driven around by all sorts. Chatty ones, awkward ones… even one who sang opera the entire ride."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Opera? That's... bold."
"Terrifying," Adira grinned. "But you—you're the right kind of company. Polite, funny, and not too loud. That's rare."
"Just trying to make the ride pleasant, ma'am."
"Well, you've done more than that." She handed Elizabeth a slip of paper and pen. "Write your number. Next time I need a ride, I'll be making a special request—Rodriguez only."
Elizabeth smiled, writing it down.
"I'll be sure to tell my boss you've promoted me to top-tier."
Adira stepped out, pausing to add: "And next time, maybe I'll treat you to a cup of tea. I like to know the people who make my day easier."
"Copy that, ma'am," Elizabeth replied, gently closing the door behind her.
---
Later that morning…
Elizabeth was now back on the highway, this time heading to the airport. Her second client of the day was Sharon's elder brother.
She already knew who he was—from both whispered rumors and a clear revelation she'd had in prayer. And she wasn't thrilled.
Notorious. Dangerous. The type of man who could read people like newspapers and shred them just as quickly.
Sebastian.
She prayed silently. Lord, please, let this be peaceful…
She pulled into the airport's pickup zone early. Ten minutes passed. No sign of him.
Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Five more minutes. Still nothing.
Was he wasting her time on purpose?
She checked the rearview. The area was bustling. The car was clearly marked. He should have spotted it by now.
Then, finally—twenty-five minutes later—he appeared.
Sebastian strode out of the arrival terminal, casual and dangerous all at once. A navy blue tee clung to his muscular arms. Grey joggers hung just right. His long, dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, sunglasses hiding his eyes.
Women stole glances. Some took photos. No one dared approach.
He was too much—too famous, too feared. He was mafia royalty. Even the police gave him distance.
Elizabeth spotted him in the side mirror and thanked God under her breath.
Two black-suited bodyguards followed behind him, slipping into a black Range Rover parked a few spaces back. A porter wheeled two medium-sized bags behind Sebastian.
Still on the phone, Sebastian knocked on the trunk. Elizabeth popped it open with a tap.
His mood darkened the second the call ended. He looked betrayed, pissed, or worse—like someone had dared challenge him.
He climbed into the backseat like he owned the vehicle. Like he was the vehicle.
Elizabeth started the car, eyes shifting to the mirror. The black Range Rover followed closely behind.
Sebastian didn't look at her. His focus was on his phone. His silence didn't last.
"You drive like you're afraid the road might break under you," he said, annoyed. "What is this? Some retirement-home driving school, Raven?"
Elizabeth blinked. Raven? Was he calling her a bird?
She cleared her throat, forcing calm.
"I prefer not to attract the attention of the police, sir."
He paused. Her voice must've tipped something in him—but he laughed instead.
"Funny. My usual driver speeds like the cops owe him a favor, Raven."
She clenched her jaw. Again with the Raven. She held her tongue.
Sebastian glanced at her hands on the wheel. "Soft hands. No scars. No tan lines. What are you, a piano teacher?"
She hesitated. "No, sir. But I know someone who plays. I could introduce you."
He waved it off.
"You smell like lavender."
Elizabeth's pulse spiked. Lavender was her body cologne.
"It's the air freshener, sir," she lied.
"You shift gears like you're afraid to break a nail."
Elizabeth was sweating now. He was testing her—his tone, half play, half predator.
"Would you like me to speed up, sir?" she asked carefully.
Sebastian's lips curled into a grin. "Yeah. Show me you're not some pretty boy from a modeling agency."
She sped up—just a little.
He leaned back, seemingly pleased.
Then his tone shifted, laced with quiet suspicion.
"You always this quiet, or just afraid of saying something stupid?"
She stayed silent.
"Where'd they dig you up from? You don't look like you've ever changed a tire. You even know who you're driving?"
"I was told to drive, not talk."
That seemed to amuse him. Or irritate him. It was hard to tell.
"What's your story? Guys like you don't end up behind the wheel unless they're running from something."
She bit her lip. "Talking never saved a man in your line of work."
Too much.
"I'm sorry. I take that back."
He shrugged it off. "Take the long way. I hate straight lines. Gives people too much time to aim."
"Understood, sir."
Moments later, he pressed again.
"You married, pretty boy? No offense, but you've got 'runaway priest' written all over you."
Elizabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Because you flinch every time I talk. That your thing? Nervous silence?"
"I don't flinch, sir. I observe."
Sebastian leaned back slowly. Thoughtful now. Quiet.
The rest of the ride continued under a silence far heavier than before.