Against the Clock

Episode 03.

The call center buzzed with the usual drone of voices, but today it felt like a cacophony drowning me in a sea of anxiety. I settled at my desk, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts—particularly the nagging fear of Alessandra's fate. What if Marco was closing in? What if he found out?

I barely made it through the morning when another call came in, this one from a distressed mother searching for her daughter. As I listened, I couldn't help but feel the irony—what had I done to deserve this?

"Thank you for calling Althea Support, this is Hana," I said, attempting to mask my turmoil.

"Hana? Please, you have to help me! My daughter, she's missing! I don't know what to do!"

Every frantic word pulled at the seams of my sanity. "Can you tell me her name?"

"Isabella. She was last seen with Alessandra. Please, I'm scared!"

As I took notes, a familiar dread crept in, like an unwelcome shadow. I hung up, my heart racing. It was spiraling out of control—too many connections, too many eyes on me. I needed to remain calm.

A few hours later, Marco stepped out of his office, his face drawn tight with worry. He approached my desk, and I felt my breath hitch. "Hana, I need your help on this case. I have a lead I want to follow, but I want your perspective."

"What kind of lead?" I asked, my voice steady, but inside, I felt a surge of panic.

"A witness claimed they saw Alessandra arguing with someone the night she disappeared. I think it might be someone connected to her past," he said, his gaze penetrating. "You know her, right? What can you tell me?"

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "I didn't know her well. Just a few classes together."

Marco studied me for a moment, searching for something beneath the surface. "Okay, but if you remember anything, let me know."

"Of course," I replied, my heart pounding. "I'll keep an eye out."

As he walked away, I felt the weight of the world shift. He was so close to uncovering the truth, and I had to act fast.

During my break, I stepped outside, needing a moment to breathe. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. I pulled out my phone, tapping out a message to Eliana.

"What do you know about the witness?"

A reply came quickly. "Just a scared kid. But they saw something. You need to be careful."

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, anxiety coiling tighter around me. I had to keep control of the narrative.

Later that day, I received a text from Luca. "Hey, you still good for lunch tomorrow? I want to talk about the case."

I felt a jolt of fear. "Sure," I replied, forcing a casualness I didn't feel.

As I prepared to leave work, I noticed Marco in his office again, poring over notes. My stomach twisted at the thought of him piecing together the clues that linked me to Alessandra and the others.

That evening, I found myself scrolling through news articles, searching for any details about the investigation. As I read about the growing concern for Isabella and her connection to Alessandra, a sense of dread settled in my bones. I had to act.

The next morning, I arrived at the call center earlier than usual, determined to find a way to divert Marco's attention. I combed through old records, looking for anything that could create a smokescreen—a distraction that would keep him off my trail.

Just before my shift began, I overheard a conversation between two colleagues. "Did you hear about the detective? He's got a lead on the missing women," one said.

"Yeah, I heard. It's getting serious. People are starting to worry," the other replied.

My stomach dropped. I had to make sure Marco didn't connect the dots. As I dialed into another call, my mind raced with possibilities.

Hours passed in a blur, each ringing phone heightening my anxiety. When lunchtime arrived, I met Luca at the café, trying to project a sense of normalcy. He was already seated, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Hey, you look stressed," he said, pushing a cup of coffee toward me.

"Just work," I said, but I could see his doubt. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I've been thinking about Alessandra and the news," he said, his voice dropping. "Do you think there's more to it? You've always had a way of knowing things."

I forced a laugh, but it felt hollow. "I think it's just a tragic situation, Luca. People go missing every day."

He leaned closer, his eyes searching mine. "But what if it's connected to something bigger? What if it's not just random?"

The question hung in the air like a dark cloud. "I don't know," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "But we have to trust the police."

Luca nodded, but the concern didn't leave his face. I could feel the pressure mounting. If I didn't divert his suspicions, I'd be caught in a web of my own making.

That evening, I found myself staring at the blank wall in my room, thoughts racing. The shadows of my past threatened to engulf me, and I realized how close I was to losing everything.

A knock on my door pulled me from my reverie. It was Marco, his expression serious. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.

He stepped inside, hands stuffed in his pockets. "I know this case is tough for you. If you ever need to talk—"

"Marco, I'm fine," I interrupted, a bit too sharply. "Really."

He studied me, his gaze searching for answers. "You're my daughter, Hana. I care about you. But this case is personal for me. I need you to be honest with me."

My heart raced at his words, a chilling reminder of the stakes. "I am being honest. I don't know anything more than what's in the news."

As he left, I felt a sense of dread settle in my chest. I had to keep my secrets buried, but the walls were closing in, and the truth was a whisper away.

With a cold resolve, I prepared to navigate this treacherous game, balancing on the knife's edge between trust and betrayal. I couldn't let Marco uncover my past—not when I was so close to reclaiming my power.