Chapter 122: Lurking Danger
Two Days Earlier
Across the city, in the opulent shadows of their world, Sarai Monroe and her sister Bianca had been scheming for days. For four relentless days, they’d hunted Eliana like predators stalking prey, their cunning minds fueled by envy and vengeance. Sarai, with her fierce beauty—light brown skin glowing under designer lights, sharp green eyes narrowed in frustration, and glossy black hair pulled into a sleek bun—paced Bianca’s lavish apartment, her high-heeled boots clicking against marble floors.
"I can’t believe this," Sarai hissed, slamming her phone down on the glass coffee table. "four days, Bianca! We’ve got the hit-and-run all planned, the truck ready to crush her at any intersection, but where is she? Poof—vanished!"
Bianca Monroe, ever the picture of composed cruelty, lounged across the deep crimson velvet sofa like a queen awaiting her next conquest. The faint aroma of her jasmine perfume curled through the air as her long, manicured fingers scrolled lazily through photos on a sleek tablet—each image a potential weapon in her arsenal. The screen’s glow illuminated her face, sharp and breathtakingly beautiful, though there was something predatory in the calmness of her expression, something that made the air in the room feel thinner.
She was the older sister by four years, and those years had honed her into something far more dangerous than beauty alone could explain. Bianca was the architect of their wicked empire—the mind that saw manipulation as an art form, cruelty as elegance, and deceit as strategy. She’d schooled Sarai in every lesson worth knowing in their gilded world: how to smile while plotting someone’s ruin, how to dress like an angel while hiding claws, how to make a lie sound like music.
They were inseparable—two sides of the same poisoned coin. Their bond wasn’t born of love but of power, privilege, and shared contempt for anyone who dared to threaten their dominance. To outsiders, they were the Monroe sisters: dazzling, graceful, untouchable. But behind the curated smiles and expensive champagne, their connection was forged from venom, envy, and a lifelong hunger for control.
"Calm down, sister," Bianca purred at last, not looking up from her tablet. Her tone was smooth, almost indulgent, but the undertone carried steel. Every word was deliberate, dripping with a lazy sort of superiority that came from knowing she always got what she wanted.
Sarai, pacing before the marble fireplace, stopped mid-step, her boots clicking sharply against the floor. Her reflection flickered in the gold-rimmed mirror—green eyes flashing with irritation.
Bianca’s lips curved faintly, almost in amusement, as she continued, "We had our men staking out Rafael Vexley’s mansion. Discreetly, of course." She spoke the word as if it were sacred. "Thought we’d catch her slipping in or out... maybe alone in a car—perfect for the ’accident.’"
She finally set the tablet down, crossing one leg over the other with unhurried grace. "But nothing," she sighed, a note of irritation curling beneath her composure. "Not a trace. No sightings, no phone pings, no whispers in the usual channels. It’s as if your precious Eliana vanished into thin air."
The words hung heavy between them, and for a brief second, Bianca’s mask slipped just enough for something sharper—curiosity, perhaps even unease—to glint in her eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by her usual poised indifference.
Her gaze drifted to Sarai, who stood still now, jaw tight, eyes burning. "Patience, darling," Bianca murmured, her lips curling into that infuriating half-smile. "Even prey learns to hide when it knows it’s being hunted. But the clever ones," she added softly, "they always make a mistake. And when she does, we’ll be there."
Bianca leaned back, draping an arm across the sofa’s backrest like a serpent resting after a kill. The tablet dimmed in her hand, the screen reflecting a single photo of Eliana—smiling, unaware. Bianca’s finger hovered over it for a heartbeat before she locked the screen and tossed the device aside.
Sarai whirled on her, green eyes flashing. "What if that kidnapping fiasco scared Rafael off? Maybe Vexley’s hidden her away in some secret lair, pampering her like royalty while Jason rots in trauma because of her big mouth!" Her possessiveness over Jason burned like acid; she’d always seen Eliana as unworthy, a poor girl daring to reach above her station.
Bianca’s lips curved into a sly, elegant smile as she rose gracefully from her seat, wrapping her arms around her sister in a warm, reassuring hug. "You’ve got every right to be furious, Sarai. Jason’s going through hell—tossing and turning with those godawful nightmares, battling the shakes from withdrawal. Meanwhile, that snake Eliana’s probably kicking back in some opulent penthouse, stuffing her face with caviar and living like royalty. But trust me, she’ll crawl out of her hole eventually," she murmured, her voice smooth as velvet, laced with a dangerous edge. "And when she does... we’ll make damn sure she regrets every breath she takes after that."
She pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But hey, enough of this gloom for now. How about I turn that frown upside down? Picture this: an all-expenses-paid shopping spree, no limits. Designer labels, champagne on ice—the works. What do you say? It’ll be just what you need to shake off the rage."
Sarai couldn’t help but let a reluctant grin tug at her lips, her tension easing just a fraction. "A full-blown shopping spree, huh? All on your dime? You always know exactly how to pull me out of the dumps, sis."
Bianca flashed a genuine, beaming smile, grabbing her own bag with a flourish. "That’s the spirit. Come on, snag your purse—let’s blow this popsicle stand." They stepped out of Bianca’s cold apartment and dove headfirst into the heart of the city’s most exclusive boutique district, where the air hummed with luxury. Towering racks of shimmering silk gowns and sparkling diamond accessories caught the light from massive crystal chandeliers overhead, bathing everything in a glamorous glow. The sisters lost themselves in the thrill of it all, their laughter echoing as they slipped in and out of fitting rooms. Sarai spun in front of the mirror in a sleek crimson dress that clung to her curves like a second skin, exuding raw confidence. "Oh, this one’s a killer," Bianca declared, whipping out her phone to snap a quick pic. "It screams ’unstoppable power.’ You deserve every bit of this, Sarai—never let anyone make you doubt that."
But just as the mood hit its peak, fate threw them a curveball that stopped them cold. There, sauntering through the boutique like she owned the place, was Eliana—not draped over Rafael Vexley’s arm as expected, but cozied up to none other than Henry Jackson. Sarai’s jaw hit the floor as she peeked from behind a display case stacked with designer handbags. "Wait... is that seriously Henry? From school? The guy who has always followed Eliana around like a lovesick puppy, tripping over his own feet just to get her attention?"
Bianca’s eyes went wide with shock, her fingers already flying across her phone screen to capture the incriminating scene. "Shh! Quick, duck!" They huddled behind a towering mannequin, hearts pounding as they spied on the pair. Eliana was all giggles, her arm looped possessively through Henry’s, while he treated her like some delicate treasure—holding her coat with exaggerated care, leaning in to whisper sweet nothings that made her bat her lashes. "What in the world is she doing with him?" Bianca hissed under her breath, disbelief mixing with a spark of glee. "Does Vexley even have a clue his so-called ’queen’ is out here playing house with another guy? God, Eliana’s got no shame—none at all."
Sarai’s blood simmered with a toxic brew of envy and fury, her words dripping with sarcasm as she bit them back. "Who gives a damn about the why? This is gold. Lady Luck just handed us the perfect setup on a silver platter."
Bianca nodded sharply, her mind racing ahead. Without wasting a beat, she dialed up her hired muscle, her voice low and commanding. "Get over to Maximum boutique—now. You’ve got under 20 minutes." True to form, the crew rolled up right on time, shadows in the making. She fired off the photo she’d stealthily snapped of Eliana and Henry looking all too cozy. "Tail them the second they step out. Bide your time—wait for that isolated stretch of street, no eyes around. Then make it happen: hit and run. Clean, accidental-looking. No traces."
The men—burly figures crammed into a nondescript dark van—nodded in silent understanding, melting seamlessly into the chaotic flow of the bustling street outside the boutique. "Copy that, ma’am," the leader rumbled over the line, his tone all business. "We’re on it."
And just like that, the hunt was on. Eliana and Henry waltzed out arm-in-arm, shopping bags dangling carelessly from their hands, completely clueless to the predators in their wake. The team shadowed them effortlessly through the city streets, trailing at a safe distance until the pair ducked into Henry’s upscale apartment building. Setting up shop for an overnight vigil, they parked across the road in the shadows, nursing lukewarm coffee as they kept watch through the long, tense hours. Binoculars trained on the glowing windows, they waited patiently for any sign of life.
"Targets are holed up inside," one of the men murmured into his comms, voice barely above a whisper. "Lights dimmed around midnight. No movement yet. We’ll hold position until dawn if we have to."
Opportunity struck at dawn. As Henry exited, briefcase in hand, the men perked up. Thirty minutes later, Eliana emerged, purse slung over her shoulder, stepping into the morning light with purposeful strides. Unaware, she hailed a cab toward the pastry shop, her heart racing toward answers about Rafael.
In the shadows, the men revved their engine. "This is it," the driver said, a grim smile spreading. "Follow her. Wait for the intersection."
Danger lurked, coiled and ready, as Eliana’s cab pulled away into the unsuspecting traffic.