Mariana groaned, turning off the insistent ringing of her alarm clock. It was 6:00 AM, and she was still sprawled on her bed, her white, lace-trimmed evening gown clinging to her like a second skin.
"Why does seven hours of sleep always feel like five minutes?" she mumbled, yawning.
Despite just waking up, she looked effortlessly beautiful. Her curves were sculpted to perfection, and her face, with its flawless features, seemed sculpted by the gods. No wonder every man who looked at her was captivated by her beauty, especially her fiancé, Alton Morant.
"Oh, God," she sighed, "please turn back time. I just want to go back to sleep! I'd wait forever if it meant I could just drift off again."
Waking up every morning was a struggle for Mariana. She hated it. After staring at the white ceiling for a few minutes, she finally rose from her bed. The thought of turning back time was a fleeting fantasy, something she realized she was too old for. She remembered her college professors asking her what she loved to do, and her answer was always "sleeping."
"Who doesn't love a good rest, right?" she chuckled, feeling a little silly asking herself the question. She knew there was no one to answer.
Mariana walked to the large window and pulled open the blue vintage curtains. The brilliant, relentless sun poured into the room, bathing her in its warmth. The view from her spacious two-story house was breathtaking: rolling hills, the vast blue ocean, and birds soaring through the morning sky. It was a view that justified the millions she had spent on the house, a dream she had finally realized just a month ago.
Mariana Rodriguez was an author and currently worked as an assistant vice president at the world's largest telecommunications company. She had been raised by her mother alone, who had passed away three years ago. She never knew her father; her mother had told her he left them when she was pregnant.
This week, she had made a decision she now regretted: she had accepted Alton's marriage proposal. Alton Morant was the wealthy heir to the Morant Group of Companies, soon to be the owner of the world's number one cola company, a multi-billion dollar enterprise. He was a handsome man, with black curly hair, emerald eyes, and a perfect white complexion. He was tall, standing at six feet.
Alton and Mariana had met at an event two years ago, and he had become a source of comfort for her as she grieved the loss of her mother, who had died from a brain tumor. Mariana was marrying Alton because he was kind and good to her, not because she was in love with him. She had never been in love.
The Malibu sun was rising higher, its magnificence casting a golden glow over the mountain peaks. Mariana smiled, feeling a sense of contentment and satisfaction. Her life felt good, especially after a good night's sleep.
But her happiness was short-lived. She remembered something, something that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Oh, my God! I'm so late!" she exclaimed, rushing to the bathroom.
After quickly brushing her teeth and showering, she dressed in a black fitted v-neck long-sleeved top, gray formal pants, and her black heels. She always wore heels to add a little height, as she was only 5'4".
Her outfit accentuated her curves. She applied a touch of red lipstick to her thin lips, skipping the rest of her makeup routine. She combed her long, wavy, black hair after drying it and put on the golden heart necklace Alton had given her last Christmas. She believed it brought her luck. She didn't even glance in the mirror; she was running late and had to go.
She grabbed her laptop, phone, and designer purse and locked her house door behind her. As she got into her 2016 Acura ILX SUV, parked outside her gate, her phone rang. She answered it immediately, holding it in the left passenger seat.
She sighed when she saw the caller ID.
"Hey, good morning," she said, her voice barely audible.
"Good morning, baby," Alton replied, his voice laced with warmth. "Good luck with your appointment. I'm sure you'll get promoted. You're so convincing."
Mariana's shoulders slumped as she heard the words "a minute from now." She couldn't let this presentation fail; it was her chance to be promoted to vice president.
"Yeah, great. Thanks for that, Al. I think I gotta go. I'm still here in my house. I'll call you later."
"Wait, what? I thought you were-"
"I forgot," she interrupted, her voice laced with panic. "Bye for now, Al. I really gotta go."
She hung up the phone and started driving. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her mind raced with anxiety. She had left Alton confused, and she couldn't figure out why she had forgotten. Maybe she had gotten too much sleep, and her brain was malfunctioning.
"I'm so stupid," she muttered to herself, forcing herself to think clearly in this critical moment.
She arrived at the company after a two-minute drive. She was supposed to be there in fifteen minutes, but she had driven like a maniac, as fast as she could. She was sure anyone who had seen her driving would have thought she was a drunk, stoned idiot. At least she had saved thirteen minutes, but she was still late.
She stood nervously in front of the meeting room door, knowing everyone inside was probably checking their watches and fuming with impatience. She took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, but her boss opened it before she could. His furious blue eyes met hers, and she swallowed hard. Troye Simmons was the owner and CEO of the company. He liked Mariana, and they were friends, but he was also a dragon when he was angry.
"Where on Earth have you been?" he asked, his voice low and menacing, but only they could hear.
"I'm so sorry, Troye. I-"
"Enough with the excuses, Mariana," he interrupted. "You need to get inside and start. Mr. Harden has been waiting long enough."
Mariana walked into the room, her eyes meeting the faces of the clients and visitors. They all looked stern and impatient. Mariana forced herself to calm down, taking another deep breath. Her presentation materials were ready; she was the only thing missing.
"Good morning, everyone..." she said, clearing her throat. "I apologize for being late, Mr. Harden."
She spoke sincerely, showing respect for the client.
Mr. Philip Harden was about 50 years old, his hair streaked with gray. He was a handsome man, and his assistant, sitting beside him, was incredibly attractive. If you didn't know he was an assistant, you might think he was a Hollywood star. Mariana noticed him immediately upon entering the room. Mr. Harden was one of the world's most famous billionaires, owning numerous companies, properties, and factories. He was a crucial client, and Mariana needed to impress him.
"It's fine, Ms. Rodriguez ," he replied, his face expressionless. There was no anger or gratitude, just a flat tone. Mariana took it as a good response, assuming Mr. Harden was a forgiving man.
As she opened her mouth to begin the presentation, the unexpected happened. A wave of shock and adrenaline surged through her veins. Everyone in the room felt it, except for Mr. Harden's assistant.
Ten men, masked and armed, burst through the door. They were terrifying.
Mr. Harden's assistant drew his gun, but he was shot dead before he could fire. Everything happened so quickly, it was almost surreal. The men approached Mr. Harden and injected something into his neck, causing him to fall asleep instantly.
"There are cops outside!" one of the masked men yelled, looking towards the window.
Mariana stood frozen, watching Troye fall to the floor, bleeding from a gunshot wound. She couldn't move, couldn't even breathe. She had never anticipated anything like this in her life. In a matter of seconds, five people were dead. She trembled, helpless, as she watched the men carry Mr. Harden away.
"Get the woman, idiot! We'll take her hostage!"
Mariana's heart pounded in her chest. Those were the last words she heard before her ears went deaf and her vision blurred. She had no idea what happened next. She had lost consciousness.
***