Maya's POV
I dropped everything and ran.
The photo crashed to the floor. Glass exploded everywhere. The divorce papers scattered like frightened birds. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.
The doorknob was still turning.
I sprinted toward the bedroom, my bare feet slipping on the marble. Behind me, I heard the front door click open. Footsteps entered my apartment. Heavy footsteps. More than one person.
"Mrs. Chen?" A man's voice called out. "We just need to talk."
I slammed the bedroom door and locked it. My whole body was shaking. This couldn't be real. This had to be a nightmare.
"Mrs. Chen, please. We're not going to hurt you."
I looked around frantically. The bedroom had no other exit. Just the windows. We were thirty floors up. No fire escape. No balcony. Nothing.
My phone. Where was my phone?
I'd left it in the kitchen.
The bedroom door handle jiggled. "Mrs. Chen, open the door. We know you have the papers. We just want to see them."
How did they know about the divorce papers? How did anyone know?
Think, Maya. Think.
The bathroom. There was a small window in the bathroom. Maybe I could—
The bedroom door exploded inward.
Two men in black suits stood in the doorway. They looked normal. Like businessmen. Like people you'd see on the street and never remember. But their eyes were cold. Empty.
"Please don't run," the first one said. He had a scar above his eyebrow. "This will be easier if you cooperate."
I grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and threw it at them. It smashed against the wall. They didn't even flinch.
"Mrs. Chen—"
I ran into the bathroom and slammed that door too. Locked it. The window. I had to get the window open.
It wouldn't budge. It was sealed shut. Painted over.
Of course it was. Adrian had them all sealed last year. "For safety," he'd said. "So no one can break in."
But now I was trapped inside.
The bathroom door shook as someone pounded on it. "Last chance, Mrs. Chen. Open up or we break it down."
I looked around wildly. There was nothing in here except towels and soap and—
The cleaning supplies. Under the sink.
I dropped to my knees and yanked open the cabinet. Bleach. Ammonia. Drain cleaner.
"One," the man outside counted.
I grabbed the drain cleaner. It said CORROSIVE on the label in big red letters.
"Two."
My hands were steady now. Weird how calm I felt. Like my body knew what to do even when my brain was screaming.
"Three."
The door burst open.
I threw the drain cleaner right in Scar-Face's eyes.
He screamed and fell backward, clawing at his face. The second man rushed at me, but I ducked under his arms and ran. Through the bedroom. Through the hallway. Toward the front door.
I almost made it.
The second man caught my arm and yanked me backward. I fell hard on the floor, knocking the wind out of my lungs.
"Enough," he growled. He was young, maybe thirty, with dark hair and a nose that looked like it had been broken before. "Where are the papers?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I gasped.
He squeezed my arm harder. "The divorce papers. Where are they?"
"They're all over the floor! Look around!"
He glanced at the scattered papers near the entrance. His grip loosened just a little.
That's when I kneed him in the stomach as hard as I could.
He doubled over with a grunt. I scrambled to my feet and ran for the door. This time I made it through. I sprinted into the hallway in my bare feet and my pajamas, not caring who saw me, not caring about anything except getting away.
The elevator was too slow. I hit the stairs.
Thirty floors down. My legs burned. My lungs screamed. But I kept going.
Behind me, I heard the stairwell door bang open. Footsteps thundering after me.
"Stop! We just want to talk!"
Liars. Liars. Liars.
I burst out of the stairwell into the lobby. The security guard looked up, startled.
"Mrs. Chen? Are you—"
"Call the police!" I screamed. "There are men in my apartment! They broke in!"
The guard reached for his phone, but then something strange happened. He stopped. His hand froze halfway to the receiver. He looked past me at something behind me.
I turned.
The two men stood in the lobby, calm as could be. Scar-Face's eyes were red and watering, but he was smiling.
"Sorry about the confusion," Scar-Face said to the guard. "Mrs. Chen is a little upset. Personal matter. We're family friends."
The guard nodded slowly. "Oh. I see."
"No!" I shouted. "I've never seen these men before in my life! They broke down my door! They—"
"Mrs. Chen," the guard said softly. "Maybe you should go back upstairs and rest. You seem stressed."
I stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"
"We'll help you upstairs," Broken-Nose said, reaching for my arm.
I jerked away. "Don't touch me!"
Everyone in the lobby was staring now. A woman with a small dog. An old man with a newspaper. The doorman. All of them looking at me like I was crazy.
Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I'd imagined everything.
No. No, I knew what I saw. What I felt.
I ran for the front door. Out into the street. The morning sun hit my face. Cars honked. People walked past with coffee cups and briefcases. Everything was normal out here. Safe.
I kept running until I reached the corner. Then I stopped and looked back.
The two men stood in front of my building, watching me. Not chasing. Just watching.
Scar-Face pulled out his phone and made a call.
My bare feet hurt. I had no shoes. No phone. No money. Just my pajamas and a whole lot of terror.
A taxi pulled up beside me. The window rolled down.
"Need a ride?" the driver asked.
I was about to say yes when I saw it. In the rearview mirror. A small photo hanging from a chain.
It was the same man from my wedding photo. The one in the black suit. The one who'd been watching me.
"No," I whispered, backing away. "No, no, no."
The driver smiled. But it wasn't a kind smile. "Get in, Maya. Someone wants to meet you."
"How do you know my name?"
"Get in the car. Or those two behind you will get you first. Your choice."
I turned. Scar-Face and Broken-Nose were walking toward me. Fast.
I looked at the taxi. At the driver. At the men closing in.
No good choices. Only bad and worse.
I got in the car.
The driver locked the doors and pulled away from the curb. "Smart girl," he said. "Now let's go see your husband."
"Adrian? You're taking me to Adrian?"
The driver laughed. It was a cold sound. "Not exactly. We're going to see who your husband really works for."
He turned down a street I didn't recognize. We were heading away from downtown. Away from everything familiar.
"Where are we going?" My voice came out small. Scared.
The driver glanced at me in the mirror. His smile was gone now.
"The warehouse on Fifth Street. Where all the bodies are buried."