Dora crawled out from behind the car, her eyes sharp with suspicion. Her shoulders twitched with the weight of unease, nerves firing off in small, uncontrollable shrugs.
"You're sisters?" she asked, her tone laced with disbelief.
A sharp gust of wind cut through the tense silence.
"I doubt it," June muttered, casting a quick glance between her mother and Dora's. Hell no, they couldn't be siblings. Nothing about them matched, not their faces, not their posture, not even their energy. Her mother stood tall, composed, carrying herself with the iron-willed presence of a woman who had never bent to anyone. Meanwhile, Dora's mother was all exaggerated gestures and flamboyant expressions, like a character plucked straight from a high-society drama. Their personalities clashed too starkly for them to share the same blood.
"Of course, it's impossible," June's mother confirmed with a dismissive wave. "We aren't sisters by blood. Just sisters in the sense of friendship… well, before, at least."
Dora let out a breath of relief, her shoulders sagging. "So you ain't siblings? Thank goodness," she sighed, a relieved smile creeping onto her lips.
But the moment her eyes met June's, harsh, calculating, with a mischievous grin to match, her smile wavered.
"You said 'before.' What does that mean?" June pressed, narrowing her gaze at her mother.
Grace, Dora's mother, rolled her eyes as if the question itself was an insult to her intelligence.
"It means your mother and I aren't friends anymore," she said, her voice sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
"Clearly, someone wasn't pleased with my choices," June's mother responded coolly, arms crossing over her chest. "But in the end, we've moved past it."
"Moved past it?" Grace scoffed, her lips twisting in a smirk. "Right. So, when's the shopping starting?" She handed June's mother a pointed look, thick with unspoken resentment.
June sighed. To think this trip would be peaceful.
It was a disaster from the start. Their mothers bickered the entire way, their arguments turning more childish by the second.
And now, standing in the presence of the wedding planner, the tension only worsened.
"No, no, no! My daughter's special day will not be hosted at such a local and cheap venue!"Grace declared, her voice carrying through the elegant showroom like a queen issuing a decree.
Dora pressed a hand to her face, wishing she could melt into the floor.
"And my daughter won't have a lavish, over-the-top wedding," Miss Betty countered, standing her ground with arms folded. "She wants something simple, just family and close friends."
"That's because you can't afford it," Grace said, a smirk tugging at her lips.
Miss Esther sucked in a sharp breath. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Grace's eyes glinted with challenge. "If you could afford it, why wouldn't you give her a grand, luxurious wedding? Or are you just scared of going broke?"
Miss Betty's nostrils flared. "Unlike you, I think before I spend. I know the value of money, I don't just throw it around like a madwoman."
A sharp gasp escaped Grace's lips.
"Who are you calling a madwoman?"
"I don't know," Miss Esther said coolly, "but if the shoe fits, wear it."
Dora groaned. This was getting worse by the second.
"Isn't this just like you?" Miss Esther continued, voice rising. "Always protesting my decisions just because they don't involve flashy, ridiculous displays."
"And isn't it just like you to always resist anything remotely sophisticated?" Grace shot back. "This is exactly why I didn't invite you to my last party, because I knew you'd show up with this attitude."
"Oh, please. That's the same reason I chose to find other friends," Miss Esther retorted. "You always wanted to be the center of attention, always making everything about you."
Grace gasped as if she had been personally wounded. "How dare you?"
Their voices escalated, drawing attention from other shoppers in the mall. Curious eyes turned toward them, whispers passing between amused spectators.
June watched the spectacle unfold, arms crossed, lips twitching.
Dora noticed.
"Don't you dare," she warned, her voice low, eyes flicking to June's barely concealed grin.
June blinked at her innocently. "Dare what?"
Dora scowled. "I know that look. I know what's cooking in that evil little head of yours."
June's lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. "What if we settle this another way?"
Dora narrowed her eyes. "I swear, June"
"Why not talk it out on my show?" June suggested, eyes gleaming with mischief.
Dora's stomach dropped.
Oh no. No, no, no.
June's mother and Grace? On her show? That was a disaster waiting to happen. These two could barely survive a shopping trip without making a scene, putting them on air was asking for chaos. And with the wedding just around the corner, the last thing Dora wanted was for their mothers to start a full-on war in public.
"Absolutely not," Dora said firmly.
"Oh, come on," June coaxed, her grin widening. "Think of the ratings. Think of the drama. Think of"
"Think of the catastrophe," Dora snapped. "No. End of discussion."
June shrugged, but the glint in her eye said she wasn't letting this idea go.
Dora groaned.
This wedding was going to be a nightmare.
…..
"Don't tell me you actually believed her." James' voice cut through the silence, laced with frustration.
The idea that Bella had been forced to leave years ago didn't sit right with him. It sounded twisted, like one of her old tricks, a well-crafted lie designed to manipulate emotions. His gut told him she was playing a game. But when he looked at Dave, his distant gaze, the slight furrow in his brow, the deep sighs, he knew his friend was caught in the storm of doubt.
And that was dangerous.
"Let's say your dad really did ask her to walk away," James pressed, folding his arms. "Why didn't she tell you? If she was so helpless, why keep quiet? And more importantly, how sure are you that things happened exactly as she said?"
Dave exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. "I just want to know what happened that year."
James shook his head, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Fine. Go ahead, dig up the past. But be careful, Dave. Don't forget, you proposed to June. Your wedding is in two weeks. Tomorrow, you're registering your marriage. If I were you, I'd be wary of a girl like Bella showing up now of all times."
Dave didn't respond.
Because deep down, he knew James had a point.
Before he could dwell on it, a soft knock at the door pulled his attention.
"Dr. Deen, your mother is.."
Dave's gaze shifted, locking onto his mother before the nurse could finish. He straightened slightly as she stepped into the room.
James took the cue, standing up. He could tell where this was going. Dave was going to ask his mother about Bella, and his presence wouldn't be welcome in that conversation. Without a word, he smoothly exited, leaving them alone.
His mother wasted no time settling into the chair James had vacated.
"Why are you still here?" she asked, her tone sharp with impatience. "Poor June must be alone right now, trying to make decisions for her wedding. Your wedding, Dave. You should be there helping her."
He listened in silence, lips pressed into a firm line.
He was going to help June. He wanted to.
But Bella's words had cracked something open inside him.
And before he could step forward into his future, he had to put the past to rest.
"Do you remember Bella?" he asked quietly, his voice measured.
His mother froze.
Her fingers curled tighter around her bag, her knuckles turning white. And then, something changed in her expression, a shadow of old wounds reopening, a flicker of something sharp and bitter.
"The girl who broke your heart ten years ago?" she said, her voice carrying an edge of restrained emotion. "Why are you bringing her up now?"
His eyes stayed locked on hers.
"Did Dad pay her to leave me?"
A single breath passed between them, and then she sighed, her shoulders sinking slightly.
"Your father did ask her to leave you," she admitted carefully. "But he never paid her… not until she asked for it."
Dave stiffened.
"She asked for money?" His voice came out hoarse, disbelief settling deep in his chest.
His mother nodded. "She named her own price."
And just like that, Dave felt something inside him crack.
Flashback – Ten Years Ago
The office was dimly lit, shadows pooling at the edges of the walls. Bella stood near the desk, her arms folded, her expression unreadable. She had been listening for a while now, eavesdropping on the conversation between his father and a business associate, hearing her name spoken like a problem that needed to be solved.
She could have stormed in, could have fought for what she had with Dave.
But she didn't.
Instead, she stepped forward, shoulders squared, lips pressed into a thin line.
"I can't leave your son," she said, her voice even and composed. "Not without compensation."
His mother had been standing on the second floor, watching, listening. She had half a mind to step in, to say something, anything, but she stopped herself.
Bella's expression was calm, but there was something else underneath, something cold, calculating.
"I've invested years in him," she continued, her voice steady. "How can I walk away with nothing in return?"
His father leaned back in his chair, watching her with narrowed eyes. "What compensation do you seek?"
Bella inhaled, gathering her courage.
"For my five years with him, I want you to sponsor my studies abroad. I want to be a ballerina. Make it happen."
Silence filled the room, thick and heavy.
"Not only that," she added, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "I want you to make me famous. I want a career, a name, so that no other family will ever reject me the way you have."
The request hung in the air.
His mother had expected his father to refuse, to throw her out, to call her bluff.
Instead, he nodded.
"Done."
Bella didn't hesitate.
She turned, walked out, and never looked back.
Present Day
Dave clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"She sold our relationship?" His voice was barely above a whisper, raw with disbelief and something dangerously close to anger.
His mother met his gaze without hesitation. "She named her price. And your father gave her exactly what she wanted."
A bitter chuckle slipped past her lips. "Even I couldn't argue against it. It was the best thing that could've happened, getting a girl like her out of your life."
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Dave felt like he was drowning in it.
Everything he had believed, everything he had grieved for, had been built on a lie.
Bella hadn't been forced.
She hadn't been a victim.
She had made a deal.
And now, ten years later, she had returned with a rewritten story, hoping to stir up old wounds.
But this time…
This time, he wouldn't be fooled.
Dave exhaled, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths.
"Thank you for telling me," he said finally. His voice was steady now, no longer carrying the uncertainty that had haunted him moments ago.
His mother watched him carefully, searching his expression. "Are you okay?"
Dave nodded. "Yeah. I am."
And for the first time in ten years, he meant it.
….
Dave stepped into the hospital room, his steps slow, deliberate. Bella was already sitting up, her back rigid as if she sensed what was coming. When his gaze locked onto hers, she swallowed hard.
"Did you leave anything out?" His voice was cold, controlled—but his knuckles whitened as his hands curled into fists.
Bella exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she glanced away. So his mother told him. There was no point pretending now.
"Your mom made it sound so awful, didn't she?" she muttered, forcing a bitter smile. Like I was some greedy little thing who just took the money and ran.
Dave's silence was louder than any accusation.
"Is it a crime to want something for myself?" she snapped, voice rising. "I loved you, Dave. I gave you five years of my life, but do you know what I got in return? Judgment. Insults. Your world never let me in. I was the poor girl dating the rich boy. They said I was after your money. That I wasn't good enough. Every damn day, I had to hear it."
"And I never once cared," Dave said, voice low but sharp.
"Maybe you didn't," Bella whispered, eyes glistening, "but I did. You didn't hear the whispers. You didn't see the way people looked at me. And my parents? My mother was mocked for selling bread on the streets. My father—" Her voice broke. "He drank himself to sleep every night because he felt useless. And all because his daughter was dating someone out of her reach."
She looked up at him then, eyes desperate for understanding.
"I wanted to be someone, Dave. I wanted to stand beside you as an equal, not as a charity case. So yes, I took the money. Not to betray you, but to become someone worthy of you."
Dave exhaled, long and slow. He had no more words left for her. Whatever love he once had, whatever pain she left in his heart, it no longer mattered.
Without another glance, he turned and walked out.
….
"Where could she be?" Thomas muttered, his voice tight with frustration as he skimmed his phone for yet another number to call. His fingers tapped anxiously against the screen, dialing one contact after another.
Their daughter had left home hours ago, supposedly to meet her mother at her company, but Linda had already confirmed, she never made it there.
They had called everyone they could think of, friends, classmates, even distant relatives, but the answer was always the same. No one had seen her.
And worse, her phone was unreachable.
Linda paced the length of the living room, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her face pale with worry. "If she's not with her friends, then where could she have gone? Is she alright?" Her voice cracked, filled with rising panic.
Her hands trembled as she gripped her own phone, making yet another attempt to reach their daughter. Call after call went straight to voicemail.
It had been hours.
"Linda, calm down," Thomas said, reaching out and gripping her hands firmly. "We'll find her."
"How can I calm down, Thomas?" she cried. "She always tells us where she's going! Always! She's never been late, never gone anywhere without informing us, what if something happened to her?"
Thomas tried to force a reassuring smile, but it wavered almost immediately. "Nothing bad will happen to her. I'm sure she'll be home soon." But even as he said it, he felt the weight of doubt pressing down on him.
The police had been called, but their response had been infuriatingly passive.
"A person has to be missing for twenty-four hours before we can officially take action," the officer had explained over the phone.
It felt like everything was resting on their shoulders.
Linda clutched her chest, her motherly instincts screaming at her that something was wrong.
She didn't know what.
But she knew her daughter was in danger.
Captured
"Shhhhhh."
A cold finger pressed against trembling lips.
Beth's breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in panicked gasps. Her wide, terrified eyes darted around the dimly lit room. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and the scent of damp wood. A single flickering bulb swung overhead, casting eerie, shifting shadows.
She could barely move, her wrists were raw from struggling against the rough rope that bound her to the weak, rickety chair beneath her. Her body ached from being dragged here, her clothes disheveled, her long dark hair tangled from the fight she had put up.
But it hadn't mattered.
She had lost.
And now, she was here.
"Your mother must be so worried," a voice cooed, taunting and laced with mock sympathy.
The woman stepped closer, her shadow stretching long across the cracked concrete floor. Her lips curved into a cruel smirk as she leaned in, peering into Beth's frightened face.
A single peck was placed on her tear-streaked cheek, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment.
Beth flinched.
The woman sighed dramatically and turned, walking to the other side of the small, decaying room. The light from the flickering bulb caught the side of her face, just enough for Beth to recognize her.
A choked sound escaped her lips.
"You.."
"Don't strain yourself, little one," the woman interrupted smoothly, running her fingers through Beth's disheveled hair, "or you might just hurt yourself."
Beth's stomach twisted.
This wasn't some random abduction.
This was personal.
The woman removed the tape from Beth's lips, and she immediately gasped, her throat dry, her voice hoarse from crying. "Why are you doing this?"
The woman tilted her head, as if considering the question.
And then, in a chillingly calm voice, she said, "Why not?"
She stepped back into the shadows, her face half-hidden once more.
"I lost my baby. And now… it's time your parents feel what it's like to lose a child."
Beth's blood turned to ice.
Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.
And for the first time since she woke up in this nightmare… she realized she might not make it home.