Against the Clock

Episode 01.

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sterile glow over the call center. It was my first week on the job, and already I could feel the weight of the mundane settling on my shoulders. Rows of desks stretched out before me, each occupied by a disheveled co-worker, glued to their screens and headsets, as if we were all trapped in a silent symphony of monotony.

I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until my break. Just enough time to finish up my call.

"Thank you for calling Althea Support, this is Hana. How can I help you today?" I said, my voice teetering on the edge of enthusiasm.

On the other end, a frantic voice broke through the static. "My mother is missing! She didn't come home last night. I think something's happened to her!"

My heart raced. I trained my focus on the screen, a swirl of emotions crashing through me. This was the kind of call that was supposed to resonate with the desire to help, to be a savior. But as I listened, I couldn't shake the cold chill creeping up my spine.

"Could you provide me with her name?" I asked, forcing myself to sound calm.

"Alessandra. Alessandra Vito," the voice trembled.

The name struck me like a bolt of lightning. I had known Alessandra in passing, her smile radiant yet chilling. She had ties to my past—ties I thought I had severed long ago. But memories have a way of clawing back to the surface, don't they?

"Please, can you stay on the line?" I managed to say, my grip tightening around the phone. I felt like I was balancing on a precipice, teetering between my professional facade and the darkness that lurked beneath.

"I'm calling the police right now. They need to know," I continued, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I switched to my supervisor, urgency flooding my voice.

As I explained the situation, I felt a familiar knot tighten in my stomach. This was not the first time I'd heard a desperate plea for help. The world had a way of spiraling into chaos, and I had learned that all too well during my years in the shadows of a twisted past.

The call ended abruptly, leaving me breathless and haunted by memories I thought I had buried. I stepped away from my desk, trying to drown out the rising tide of anxiety.

"First week jitters?" a voice interrupted. I turned to see Marco, my stepfather, leaning against a nearby cubicle, his sharp eyes assessing me.

"Just a tough call," I said, forcing a smile. "How's the investigation going?"

His expression darkened, shadows lining his brow. "Another missing person. Alessandra Vito. We're looking into it."

I froze, the implications crashing over me like a tidal wave. "Missing? Do you think—"

"Don't jump to conclusions, Hana," he cut me off. "There's no evidence of foul play yet."

I nodded, but inside, my mind raced. How could I ever explain the tangled web of connections that bound me to this case?

The break room felt suffocating as I sipped my lukewarm coffee. I had barely processed the call when my phone buzzed. A text from Eliana, a voice from my past I thought I had escaped.

"He's on to you. Stay sharp."

Panic flared in my chest, suffocating and suffusing my thoughts. I had buried secrets beneath layers of deception, and the last thing I needed was someone prying them open.

Just as I began to think I could breathe again, the break room door swung open, and a group of colleagues filtered in, laughter ringing hollow against the backdrop of my turmoil. I plastered on a smile, but the laughter felt distant, like echoes of a world I could no longer inhabit.

Back at my desk, I noticed Marco had retreated to his office, his silhouette tense and rigid against the glass. My heart sank as I recalled our shared history, the shadow of his reputation looming over me like a specter. I could almost feel the weight of his expectations pressing down, but what did he really know about me?

A notification popped up on my screen—a news alert about Alessandra's disappearance. My hands shook slightly as I clicked it open. "Local woman missing. Family fears the worst."

I had to act.

As the clock ticked down to the end of my shift, I plotted my next move, each heartbeat syncing with the pulse of my dark intentions. The line between my past and present blurred, and I knew one thing for certain: I would not be the one left in the shadows.

With a cold resolve, I prepared to play a game I had long been training for—a game where the stakes were life and death, and this time, I would be the one in control.