Chapter 54

The hospital was quieter than usual that morning, wrapped in a muted tension that clung to the halls like fog. Security cameras blinked steadily. Guards murmured into radios. Every footstep echoed a little too loudly.

And in the center of it, walking, was Makizal. His movements held an eerie serenity, the kind that only men familiar with violence possessed. Even when Dr. Williams was resting, even when she hid her private obsessions behind the locked, unseen chambers of her palace-like home, the world around her still turned, and Makizal made sure it turned his way.

The high-tech surveillance systems and ubiquitous guards reported every whisper and every misplaced step directly to him.

The cleanup operation orchestrated with Polo’s team was nearing its end. A substantial list of names had been neutralized, erased from the power ledgers. Electronic devices, video clips, and compromising documents were destroyed. But one critical piece remained untouched: the original evidence video held by Evelyn, the only proof that Makizal needed to eliminate before he could handle her the way he wanted. If Williams had given even the slightest nod, he would have peeled her sanity apart until she confessed. But for now, he had to wait and continue with another task.

He headed toward the apartment building linked to the number whispered to him by his informants.

The hallway was dim. The walls smelled of late-night cigarettes and stale cologne. His ascent was slow and deliberate, each step a further extension of his chilling purpose. Without hesitation, he picked the lock with a small tool and slipped inside. The door shut behind him with a soft click.

Inside, the room was a portrait of disarray. Whiskey bottles lay scattered, clothes draped over chairs, and the heavy, stale air hung stagnant. Makizal’s eyes quickly scanned the chaos, finally landing on what he sought: Malaya, the young woman, lay asleep in the exhausted sprawl of her bed.

He approached and pressed a gloved hand firmly over her mouth.

Her eyes flew open. Panic jolted her entire body. She writhed, trying to scream, but Makizal’s hand locked her jaw in place.

“I advise you not to do that,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above her panicked breathing.

Malaya recognized him immediately. Makizal.

“I will remove my hand, and we will talk,” he stated, applying just enough pressure to make her taste fear. “If you try anything, a scream or a fight, you will face the worst part of me. And I am sure that is not what you want.”

Malaya, paralyzed by fear and recognition, offered a tiny, desperate nod of submission beneath his palm.

“Good.” He retracted his hand. “Sit up. We’re going to talk.” He pocketed the small, silver knife he had held casually in his other hand.

Malaya scrambled to sit against the headboard, her hair clinging to her damp forehead, her body trembling with shock. Makizal checked his watch.

“So, you weren’t planning on showing up to work today?”

“Please…” She swallowed. “What do you want?”

“Hmm.” He clicked on the bedside lamp. The sudden, harsh light exaggerated the mess of the room and the exhaustion in Malaya’s eyes. “It was you who gave the documents to Madame. How… creative. Paying a delivery boy to do such a task. Was that the best idea you could think of?”

Malaya looked around, ashamed by the intrusion into her private, messy failure. Makizal, however, seemed disconcertingly relaxed, his movements fluid.

“But why did you do that?” he finally asked.

Regaining a desperate shred of courage, she thought of Emilio and the unknown fate he had suffered. Was he alive? Would the same thing happen to her? she wondered.

At last, her voice wavered as she confessed everything: Emilio’s guilt, her desire to expose the predators, her desperation to protect other women.

Makizal listened without interrupting. When she finished, he walked to the window and ran a hand through his hair.

“Alright.” He tossed her phone onto the bed. “You should show up for work. You haven’t been fired, as far as I know.”

Malaya’s breath hitched. “Is Dr. Williams aware?”

In his mind, he replayed the moment Williams’s cold, calculated tone ordered him to investigate. Finding the delivery man had been effortless; cameras caught everything. Once he discovered it led back to Malaya, he had lied to Williams and told her he was still working on it. Williams, prioritizing the cleanup over the motive, had not pressed.

He smiled faintly. “I don’t think that’s necessary information.”

“And Emilio,” she shot back, a sudden need for knowledge overcoming her fear. “What did you do to him?”

A long, heavy silence engulfed the room. Makizal stepped toward the exit. He placed his hand on the latch, paused, and turned back. His gaze sank into her like a blade.

“The same thing I did to Mr. Asanago.”

The sound of that name, Asanago, was a physical violation. Malaya’s heart seized, a momentary, agonizing stall in her chest.

“It’s 10 a.m. Make sure you show up for work,” he said, then vanished into the hallway.

Mr. Asanago was the powerful banker who raped her in his office years ago.

So how did Makizal know it? Had he avenged her? And what had he done to Emilio?

She snatched her phone, checking it frantically. Everything was intact. Malaya scratched her head, her mind racing. The only person who knew Mr. Asanago’s name and all the details of her trauma was her therapist.

This meant Makizal knew everything about her therapy, her rape, her deepest secrets. He hadn’t just cracked her digital security; he had peeled back her psychological layers.

Terrified, she scrambled to dress, desperate to flee the apartment and get to the office. She needed to see Rosa, needing the anchor of a friendly face after days of forced silence.

Meanwhile, in her mansion, Williams descended the grand staircase of her palace. Still dressed in silken pajamas, she walked into the sprawling, sun-drenched kitchen. The staff, meticulously employed by Makizal, were preparing her breakfast. He was everywhere now: in her security, her staff, her shadows. A presence so constant it was almost dangerous. If he intended to harm her, she was at his mercy, but he wouldn’t.

Miss Kai would kill him herself, and Mr. Ralph, calm, devoted, and lethal, when necessary, would make sure his death was untraceable.

Williams was the volatile line separating Kai’s passive love from her aggressive defense.

Makizal, before his patrol, had reported on Adeline, confirming her husband’s health state and their location, a quiet, non-suspicious retreat. Adeline’s foresight in planning her cover was paying off.

Williams sat, savoring her morning coffee, the emotional charge of the night a faint residue in her expression. She recalled her last order: Emilio was to disappear once the cleanup was complete. Surveillance cameras had been installed in Yada’s apartment; if she dared to insist on Evelyn’s cause, damage control would require damage done.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced. Evelyn.

She hadn’t checked on her.

“Where is she?” Williams asked sharply.

The staff member explained that Evelyn had been sequestered since the day before, without food.

Williams blinked.

Evelyn… unfed?

“No, Madam.”

A flicker of something between annoyance and curiosity crossed her face.

“Should we—”

“Leave it,” Williams interjected.

She picked up her own dish, walked down the hall, and strolled toward the room where Evelyn was held captive. The pace was unnervingly measured, suggesting a calculated cruelty.

She opened the door. The air inside was heavy and unmoving. Evelyn was asleep on the floor, curled up in an exhausted fetal position. Her severe hunger and crushing migraine had finally led to her unconsciousness.

Williams stood above her, staring down at the ragged, vulnerable figure. It was a brief, powerful lapse in her control, a moment of inspection that lasted long enough for Evelyn’s instincts to jolt her awake. She sprang backward, fear coiling in her eyes, quickly sitting up and placing a defensive hand over her abdomen.

Williams’s gaze narrowed on the defensive gesture, then shifted to the redness blooming across half of Evelyn’s face, the mark of her slap.

“Are you hungry?” Williams asked, her tone laced with cold, arrogant mockery.

Evelyn, weakened and terrified, could only stare back, speechless.

“Here.” Williams bent down slightly, not kneeling, but lowering her arm just enough to shove her own breakfast dish across the floor, treating it like a discarded bowl for a stray animal. “I could also starve you until you lose the child,” she added with a soft smile.

Evelyn’s hand instinctively shielded her stomach.

Williams noticed.

For a moment, her eyes lingered on that gesture.

Then she straightened.

“But Monday is close. Soon, you’ll be free.”

“Then let’s wait,” Evelyn whispered.

Williams’s jaw tightened, irritated by the lack of breakage. She turned to leave, but before closing the door, she delivered the final insult. “Wash yourself,” she said without emotion. “You smell.” Then she was gone.

Alone, Evelyn slowly registered the dish, Williams’s expensive leftovers. She was so famished she could barely form a coherent thought. She crawled closer and began eating the luxurious remnants from the floor, consuming her captor’s discarded scraps like a starved troll.

“So, this is how things were going to be?” she thought, the finality of her humiliation overwhelming her, before collapsing back onto the cold floor.

Sa ii ko thanks you for your reading. Every vote and comment helps this story continue.