Night had fallen, and the world outside was shrouded In darkness.
Blanche caught the silhouettes of two men on the terrace below, the faint scent of cigarette smoke drifting up to her window. She wrinkled her nose, rose quietly, and slid the glass door shut behind her, locking it with a soft click.
Eddy glanced up at Blanche’s balcony, but all he could make out was the slender figure cast in silhouette against the billowing curtains.
“I’ll get in touch with Miss McCarthy,” the head bodyguard murmured, retrieving a bottle of pills from the suitcase and setting it on the nightstand. He reminded Eddy yet again, “Sir, don’t forget to take your medication. And absolutely no drinking.”
Eddy looked up, but said nothing. The bodyguard left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Loneliness crept into the silent room, growing heavier by the minute.
Eddy sat alone on the balcony sofa, gazing out at the glittering lights of Capitol City. The view stretched endlessly, a city that never slept.
His thoughts drifted to their honeymoon–they’d come here, to Capitol City.
If his wife were here, maybe they’d have retraced their old steps, found comfort in familiar places.
He left the hotel room, wandering aimlessly through the sprawling city. He revisited every spot they’d once explored together, drifting from street to street until exhaustion finally overtook him and he slumped onto a bench by the roadside.
All the while, the head bodyguard followed at a discreet distance. He eventually sighed, helping Eddy back into the car and returning him to the hotel.
He knew his boss was deliberately pushing himself to the edge.
If they couldn’t find Mrs. Jordan soon, he truly feared his employer wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.
After her shower, Blanche slipped into a white nightgown and, picking up her phone, started a video call with the contact saved as “Nanny.”
The call connected almost instantly, and a tiny, chubby face filled the screen.
Mamie was just over two months old and absolutely adorable, with big, dark eyes
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sparkling with mischief and plump cheeks that made her look Impossibly sweet
“Mommy, I miss you,” Mamie chirped, pressing her little mouth up to the screen, smudging it with drool.
Blanche couldn’t help but laugh. “Mommy misses you, too, darling.”
“Did you behave in your music lesson today?”
“I did!”
Just then, the phone was pulled away for a moment, and a tissue wiped across the lens. In that brief movement, Blanche caught a glimpse of a man’s handsome profile.
The phone was handed back to Mamie.
“Daddy, I want some fish crackers!” Mamie announced, reaching for the familiar snack container.
A man’s calm voice came through, “Just five, okay?”
“Eight!” Mamie bargained, her little voice full of determination. The man chuckled softly.
“Alright. Eight.”
Blanche blinked in surprise. She’d known him for years, and she’d never heard him laugh like that.
“Oh, Mommy,” Mamie said through a mouthful of crackers, “Daddy misses you, too!” “Is that so?” Blanche replied, her tone carefully neutral.
Suddenly, the man’s hand appeared in the video, and the phone was turned around.
Blanche had been lying on her stomach, propped on her elbows, her face filling the screen. Caught off–guard by his sudden appearance, she sat up quickly, heat rising to her cheeks. “Um?”
He was dressed in a loose, comfortable shirt, his features sharp and handsome. His calm eyes lingered on her slightly flushed face. “Mamie needs to go to bed. now. Say goodnight to Mommy.”
Mamie mumbled sleepily, “Goodnight, Mommy.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
Blanche had wanted to spend a few more precious moments with her daughter, but
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the call was cut short.
Just before the screen went dark, she saw the nanny take the phone away. The last thing Blanche saw was the man carrying Mamie upstairs, the little girl clinging to him like an octopus, both of them laughing softly together.
Blanche couldn’t help but wonder if he’d married her just to steal her daughter away.
At eight the next morning, the car Mr. Jordan had arranged picked them up and took them to the bank, where they met with one of the bank’s IT specialists to learn exactly how the recent wave of account thefts had taken place.
The plan was to study the hackers‘ methods and design a trap to catch them.
The bank had gathered a group of customers whose accounts had been compromised, hoping to figure out why they’d been targeted and what had triggered the breach.
A survey quickly revealed the common thread: every victim had clicked on a junk text message.
Those spam messages were the trigger.
It was a wide–net operation–anyone who took the bait could fall victim. There was no specific target, just whoever was careless enough to bite.
