I stared at my laptop, motionless, lost in a loop of memory and reanalysis. Over and over again, I dissected the moment—our moment. Always arriving at the same conclusion: whatever he thought he knew, it was time to act. Time was slipping. He was suspicious. And I wasn't about to lose everything now. Not after months of watching, waiting, preparing.
Getting the sedative had been disturbingly easy—two clicks, a nameless crypto transfer, one vial in liquid, the other powder. The internet had it all. Even precise anesthesia instructions. After that, I found a place—remote, untouched by city eyes. A forgotten house deep in the woods, one I stumbled upon days ago. Its silence stretched like skin between the trees, old wooden bones groaning beneath clawing branches. A place that had once welcomed hikers, now cursed by rumor.No one came here anymore.It was perfect.
The man who rented it to me didn't ask questions. Cash has a way of convincing people to forget.I signed no name. He didn't care.
The inside was covered in time. Furniture draped in dirty, once-white sheets. Cobwebs like forgotten dreams.I walked across creaking floorboards, every step swallowed by dust. There was a heavy table in the center of the room—I'd stripped the cloth and claimed it. On it: duct tape, gloves, a box of rope, notes, and a half-empty bottle of red wine. Next to it, my laptop looped his face endlessly—concerts, interviews, videos. I knew them all by heart. I barely glanced at it. My eyes were already pulled to the wall across from me. To the thing I had built My little masterpiece.
Photos, newspaper clippings, names circled in red. Strings like veins connecting moments in time. In the center: Jhio. Always Jhio.
This wasn't like the board I had at home, tucked inside my closet—this was temporary. Just for tomorrow. All the intel I'd need. The exact time his car would leave the garage. No security. A private meeting, sanctioned by management. No cameras. No attention. Perfect.
He'd be mine. Not forever. Just long enough. He needed to see me—to really see me. To realize I wasn't just another staff member. I was the woman he was meant for. Always had been. And once he understood… I'd let him go. We'd leave together. Start again. Start us.
I had everything ready—extra clothes, a first aid kit, tools, a blank notebook. My fingers trailed the leather of the suitcase before nudging it aside with my foot. Food, water, enough for both of us. We wouldn't stay here long. He just needed to understand.
Beside me lay a phone. Not mine—one I bought two days ago. Disposable. I wouldn't turn it on until I needed it.
I moved through the house once more. Upstairs, I'd prepped a room. A single wooden chair, spotlit by construction lamps I'd wired myself. No electricity in this place. Hasn't been for years. A length of rope lay neatly at its base. Everything was ready.
I touched the chair, hands trembling—not with fear, but something stranger. Excitement. Tension. My hands curled into fists. I went back downstairs, grabbed the bottle of wine, and sat in front of the screen.
"Soon," I whispered, lifting the glass to my lips.
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Don't blink.Tomorrow changes everything.💔 If this chapter got you – let me know.🩶 Comments & votes mean the world.👁 Show me you're here.