Alex's Point of View
I packed my bags hurriedly; I put on sunshades, a nose mask, and a face cap before switching off my phone. I walked out the door, rolling my bag on its wheels. I walked past suite 209 as I entered the elevator.
A lot of things had happened in the last twenty-four hours, more than I could comprehend, and I felt like a part of me was reliving my early days.
My mom died when I was nine, while my father was a natural abuser of the woman. He couldn't even wait a week to mourn my mom before he brought home that sneaky woman.
They say all devils are pretty, but my devil was an ugly hoe; her face still haunts me when I sleep at night. "You have to choose between me and your useless boy." She said that night, screaming into my useless father's face.
Of course he picked his ugly hoe over me, throwing me into the street and warning me never to show my face in front of him again.
I heaved a heavy sigh as the elevator whirred open. I turned around, and I could see a set of cops walking into the other elevator. My heart skipped a beat. "Are they here for me?" I thought.
I walked through the main entrance with a smile while my hand fidgeted in my coat. The street was still as busy as ever, and I walked up to the chauffeur to get my keys.
I moved as briskly as ever, throwing my luggage in the back seat, revving the engine to life, and stowing away like a thief. "Which of my crimes did they catch on to?" I thought, but there was no time to dwell on the past.
I drove like a maniac while still abiding by the laws; the police being on my trail was the last thing I wanted.
After driving for like two hours straight, I was finally on that lonely street; the sun was going down, but I couldn't admire it as my hands continued to tremble from the unknown.
I pulled over in front of the guest house. I hurriedly picked up my bag and walked to the door.
I went near the window to pick up the key where it was kept; I subtly unlocked the door.
I went straight to the study; the dusty smell of old books and rusty shelves welcomed me. Just like in the movies, I had a secret room beyond those shelves, but mine was more than a room; it was a basement.
Pulled one, and the secret door finally surfaced; I scanned my retina and finally had access to the room.
I walked down the stairs with my heart in my mouth, the floor creaking beneath my feet as I walked down into the secret basement where I knew Faith was waiting for me.
I finally opened the last door, heaving a sigh of relief. "Why the heck did you call me that way?" I screamed as I walked into the room.
"I have two pieces of bad news for you, depending on which one you would like to hear first." Faith said, her eyes filled with worry.
I knew whenever she was being dramatic like that, things were going very bad or things were going to go sour soon. I inhaled sharply. "Start with the bad news." I said, elongating the bad for dramatic effect.
Something we do when we find ourselves in a loophole to reduce the tension.
"Alright, so Mrs. Mallory woke up in a coma, and guess what her first request was." Faith muttered, staring into my eyes for an answer.
"Find me Alex." I said, nodding my head in approval.
"Exactly how she said it. That's why the police are currently on your trail, and I asked you to get out of there because they already got you at that point." Faith said.
Mrs. Mallory, the thirty-seven-year-old billionaire maestro, hated love and conviction, and everything she loved was her business. Two years ago, exactly on the 26th of August, I placed a bet with Faith. "I am going to sweep this woman off her feet, swindle her of millions, and leave her wanting more." My exact words that fateful afternoon when we were drinking.
Faith didn't have faith in me; she didn't believe I could pull it off, but six months later I walked out of Grace's door with a two hundred million check, a house document, and Grace in a coma.
It was like a heist, and every step, every night, every moment was planned to perfection.
But now that she was awake, it makes sense she would be after my life.
"So what do I do?" I asked Faith, trying to hold myself together without losing it.
"There's nothing to do; you have to meet her and do your thing." Faith said casually. I knew she was joking; she didn't mean it.
"So what's the second bad news?" I asked Faith, praying fervently with my heart that it wasn't as bad as Grace waking up from a coma.
"Hmm," Faith heaved a heavy sigh.
"Talk to me; what's the news?" I asked, my voice laced with anxiety.
"I did some digging on Isabella, and I found out every man she's been with had been recorded missing after three months." Faith said. I could hear her heartbeat from where I was standing.
"What!!" I screamed.
"That isn't all." Faith said, pulling a chair from the desk that created a barrier in between us and sitting down.
"What else?" I asked.
"According to my source, her first husband's family is still dragging it out in court with her over the fact that she killed their son after he cheated on her." Faith said, taking a deep breath, "My source said all men that sleep with her would definitely wind up lost without a doubt." Faith said.
I stood there processing every piece of information that Faith had given me when those words struck a chord with me: "I am the predator, and you are the prey." Leaving my lips wide agape.