𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗔𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ☏︎

𝟏𝟔 | 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄

𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐧 ☕︎

I take another drag of my whisky, leaning back the chair of my home office.

I had a good tolerance for alcohol; most of the time I avoided it. But with the way I left things with Nevaeh, I found myself reaching for the bottle.

I shouldn't even care. I don't even like her. But I do care.

I replay the footage of the black Mercedes that hit my brother, trying to catch it's plate number. However, the quality was shitty, making me unable to read it.

I have clear footage of the black Mercedes pulling out of my car park. The plate number read 'R3V 3N6E' and by the looks of the one from eight years ago, I can assume they match up.

My security team weren't lying.

These people had a problem with me looking into my brother's death. The fire was just a warning. Erasing my research.

This could mean that his death wasn't an accident.

They'll have to try harder if they wanted me to stop.

I grab the phone and call my father, to inform him of my realisation. "Hello, son." My dad greets me, picking up the phone.

"Bonjour, papa." I greet into the phone. "I have something to tell you."

He hums, beckoning me to go on. "Danté's death wasn't an accident." The line goes silent.

"And how would you know?" He finally says, suspicion lacing his tone.

"I've been looking into his case." I admit, and the line goes silent again. "My office building was set on fire yesterday-"

"That's enough, Damien." My dad cuts in, and I can tell hes growing agitated. "Stop this nonsense now."

I sigh and nod my head. He doesn't believe me. Or maybe he knows more than I do.

"Yes sir." I say, but obviously I'm not going to until I find out the truth. He hangs up the phone and I put my phone down.

They might have succeeded in burning my physical copies, but what they failed to do, was destroy my USB stick containing all of the research and evidence. The papers were just more convenient.

I take another drag of my whisky and print out the license plates of the black vehicles.

The hum of the printer fills my silent office, and my mind trails back to Nevaeh. I need to see her. Make sure she's alright.

So I take a quick shower, throw on a dark brown suit and head to the hospital.

"I'm here to see Nevaeh Adeyemi." I say to the receptionist, who wasn't the same elderly lady from yesterday. The receptionist looks for her room number with haste.

"Room 27." She says, writing something down in a crumpled paper and passing it to me. Not sure why I need that.

I nod as a thank you, taking the paper and heading to her room. Inside it was a number. I tossed it into the bin nearest me.

I enter room 27, where Nevaeh lay asleep on the hospital bed. Her foot was bandaged, and I move closer to her bed.

She is so beautiful.

The last time I've seen her this at ease was when she was in my bed, escaping another nightmare.

I take a hand and brush a few braids away from her face, and her eyes flicker open.

She looks at me lazily, with heavy eyes. "I thought I told you not to come here." Her voice was soft and quiet, and she sits up.

Fuck me.