Sibling spotlight - billie and Finneas story

The call and The confrontation

Chapter: The Call and The Confrontation

Tw

Finneas and Billie sat in the car, the weight of the morning pressing down on them. It was clear now that something was very wrong. They had searched everywhere Y/N might have gone, and there was still no sign of her. The panic that they had been trying to keep at bay was starting to break through, and it was only a matter of time before they had to face the truth—they needed help.

Finneas pulled the car over to the side of the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he stared ahead, his jaw clenched. Billie, sitting beside him, was already reaching for her phone, her fingers shaking as she dialed their parents’ number.

The phone rang once, twice, and then their mother’s familiar voice came through. "Hey, Billie. What’s up? Everything okay?"

Billie’s breath hitched, her voice wavering. "Mom... we don’t know where Y/N is. She’s gone. We can’t find her."

There was a pause on the other end, and Billie could hear her mom’s tone shift instantly from casual to alarmed. "What do you mean she’s gone? How long has she been missing?"

Finneas leaned in, his voice strained as he spoke. "We checked everywhere. Her bed was empty this morning. Her phone's off, and she didn’t take it with her. We’ve been driving around, but... she’s nowhere."

Their mom’s voice cracked, fear rising. "Okay, stay calm. We’ll call the police. Your dad and I are coming over now. Stay at the house. She might come back, or the police will need a place to start searching from."

Billie nodded even though her mom couldn’t see her. "Okay. Just hurry."

As soon as the call ended, Billie dropped her phone into her lap, her hands trembling. She wiped at the tears forming in her eyes, trying to keep it together, but the weight of everything was starting to crush her. Finneas reached over, squeezing her hand gently.

"We’re going to find her," Finneas said, though his voice cracked with uncertainty.

---

Meanwhile, with Y/N...

Y/N’s heart pounded as she sat in the cold, dark space of the warehouse. Her mind raced, desperately trying to figure out what to do. The man who had kidnapped her was still nearby, and every sound echoed through the abandoned building, making her feel more trapped and isolated.

She heard the man’s heavy footsteps approaching again. He was coming back, and Y/N had no idea what he wanted or why she was here. She tried to stay calm, her breath shaky, but it felt impossible. Every instinct told her to run, to scream for help, but there was nowhere to go.

The man appeared out of the shadows, his face partially hidden by a hood. His expression was cold, detached, and it made Y/N’s stomach churn with fear.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice trembling. "I don’t understand… What do you want from me?"

The man didn’t respond right away. He stood there, watching her with an unsettling calmness. Then, after a long silence, he finally spoke.

"It’s not about what I want from you," he said, his voice low and emotionless. "It’s about sending a message."

Y/N’s brow furrowed in confusion. "A message? To who?"

The man’s eyes darkened. "To your family. To everyone who thinks they can live in the spotlight and not pay for it."

Her breath caught in her throat. This wasn’t just random. He knew who she was, who her family was. This was about fame, about her and her siblings’ lives under constant scrutiny. But this—this was beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

"You don’t have to do this," Y/N pleaded, her voice shaking. "Whatever you're trying to prove… this isn’t the way."

The man stepped closer, his face twisting in frustration. "You don’t get it, do you? People like you, like your brother and sister, you live in a bubble. You get everything handed to you. You don’t see what it’s like for the rest of us. This is the only way to make people listen."

Y/N’s mind raced. She had no idea how to respond, how to reason with someone who had already made up their mind about her, about her family. She felt so small, so powerless in that moment, but she knew she had to stay calm, had to keep him talking, maybe even buy herself some time.

"You’re wrong," she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "It’s not as easy as you think. Fame... it doesn’t make things better. It just makes everything harder."

The man’s eyes flickered with something—maybe doubt, maybe anger. It was hard to tell. "You expect me to feel sorry for you?"

"No," Y/N whispered, shaking her head. "I’m just saying… we’re not that different. You have pain, and I have pain. But this… this isn’t going to fix anything. Hurting me, or my family—it won’t make your pain go away."

The man stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Y/N held her breath, praying that her words were getting through to him, that maybe—just maybe—he would let her go.

But then, he turned away, his jaw tight. "You think you’re clever, don’t you? Trying to mess with my head. It’s not going to work."

Y/N’s heart sank as she watched him walk back toward the door, leaving her alone again. Her hope slipped away, replaced by a deeper sense of fear.