The room was quiet… too quiet.
White walls. White sheets. A white door that clicked locked every night at exactly 9 p.m.
Inside a concealed ward deep in the outskirts—far from the eyes of the world—sat a woman in her early 50s. Her long black hair flowed like silk down her back, slightly tousled. Her piercing blue eyes shimmered with pain and defiance. She was too beautiful to be forgotten… and too dangerous to be freed.
Pamela.
The door opened with a soft creak. A nurse stepped in, holding a tray with two pills and a half-filled glass of water.
"Time for your meds, Pamela."
Pamela offered a soft, almost vacant smile and collected the tray. She placed the pills on her tongue and drank the water. The nurse watched. Waited. Then nodded and stepped out.
The moment the door clicked shut, Pamela leaned forward and spat the pills into a hidden cloth stuffed under the mattress. She wiped her lips and carefully reached under the bed. From beneath layers of hidden fabric, she pulled out an old photograph.
A boy—barefoot, grinning—holding a worn-out soccer ball.
Luca.
Her hand trembled as she traced the picture. A single tear escaped down her cheek.
"Just hold on, my baby… Mama will find a way out. I swear it."
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the fire in her eyes told a different story. She kissed the picture gently and hid it again as footsteps echoed in the hallway.
************
Flashback: 23 Years Ago
The house was warm, filled with the smell of Pamela's cooking. She had just prepared dinner and was wiping her hands with a cloth when she smiled to herself.
"Dubious will love this," she murmured, walking toward the study to call her husband.
But as she approached, voices filtered through the slightly ajar door.
She paused.
"…She saw me, and I know she'll talk. Shut her up. Kill her and her husband. Erase everyone connected to her. Don't forget—Alison Adams. 8 PM tomorrow."
Pamela's heart dropped.
Her feet froze. Her hands went cold.
Dubious. Her husband. The man she'd built a family with… just ordered a hit on Alison—her best friend. Her pregnant best friend.
Terror shot through her spine as she stumbled back, hiding by the door as Dubious turned. For a moment, she thought he saw her. He didn't.
She tiptoed back to the bathroom, hands shaking violently. She grabbed her phone and dialed. Once. Twice. On the third try, Alison picked up.
"Hey girl, what's up?" Alison's voice was bubbly. Naive.
Pamela whispered hoarsely, "Alison… you need to leave. Take your family and run—now. Don't ask questions. Just go. You're not safe."
"Slow down, What are you talking about? You're scaring me."
"Someone's planning to kill you. You need to go now, Ali! Please—"
Before Pamela could finish, the bathroom door swung open.
Dubious stood at the entrance. Tall. Calm. Watching.
Pamela's blood ran cold.
"Hey babe," she said, forcing a smile as she clutched the phone behind her back.
He raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I… just needed to pee."
He glanced at her phone and saw the last dialled number.. ALISON BBF. He smiled
"Dinner ready?"
"Yes. It's downstairs."
He smiled. "Great. I'm starving."
As soon as he walked out, Pamela locked the bathroom door and burst into silent sobs. She knew Dubious. If he suspected anything, he'd kill her too. She had to move. Fast.
She ran to the bedroom, packed a small bag, grabbed Luca's clothes and school schedule. Her mind was on fire. She had to pick Luca. Get him to safety. Leave everything behind.
But just as she grabbed the doorknob—
Dubious barged in.
And before she could scream—
A needle pierced her neck.
Everything spun.
Her knees gave way.
The last thing she saw was Dubious's eyes… and her son's toy ball rolling across the floor.
Back to Present Day
Pamela jolted from the memory, clutching her chest as if the needle still burned beneath her skin. She inhaled sharply.
For 23 years, she'd been buried alive in a world that wasn't hers. Labeled insane. Sedated into silence.
But she remembered.
She remembered everything.
And now, the fire in her heart was rekindled.
"Luca," she whispered again, her fingers curled into a fist.
"If only you knew what they did to me…
*************
FEDERAL MEDICAL HOSPITAL...
The hospital room smelled like sterilized air and distant sorrow.
Alison Adams sat upright on the bed, wrapped in a clean white hospital gown. A soft breeze danced through the half-open window, brushing against her long, auburn hair that was slowly regaining its strength after the transplant.
A week had passed. Seven days and nights… and Rose hadn't come to see her.
Not once.
That was unlike her daughter.
The silence left by her absence echoed louder than the rhythmic beeping of the monitors beside her. But right there, holding her hand, was Kelvin—her son. Steady, calm, and present like a rock in a storm. His eyes hadn't left her since she returned from surgery, and his devotion was the only warmth she clung to.
Still… that uneasiness lingered in her chest like smoke trapped under glass.
Alison turned toward the window, trying to shake off the growing dread, and muttered, "Maybe she's just caught up… or maybe she's in love."
She allowed a small smile to tug at her lips.
The last time Rose visited, there was a glow in her face, a light in her eyes that didn't come from hospital lights or filters—it came from her heart. She spoke of someone… a man. She hadn't given too many details, but the way her daughter smiled when she whispered his name made Alison pause. That wasn't a casual fling kind of smile. It was the type that rooted itself in a woman's soul.
"You're in love, aren't you?" she'd asked Rose that day.
Rose had laughed shyly, cheeks warm, and nodded. "Maybe."
Alison had promised to meet him once she was discharged. Maybe even cook something special, like old times.
Now, her eyes traced the shadows dancing on the walls. Across the room, another patient, an old woman with wide, wandering eyes, smiled blankly at her, as if she saw something behind Alison that Alison couldn't see. She gave the woman a small wave before returning to her thoughts.
A memory stirred… a face.
Pamela.
The name crashed through her like a forgotten melody. Her heart softened instantly.
"Pamela," she whispered, her voice cracking.
God, how she missed her.
Her best friend. Her sister from another mother. It had been 23 years since she last heard from her. That final call… so frantic… so terrifying.
Pamela had warned her.
Alison closed her eyes, and the walls around her faded away.
*************
23 Years Ago…
That night came back like a haunting film she could never stop replaying.
Her hands trembled as she held the phone against her ear. Pamela's voice was rushed, desperate.
"You need to leave, Alison. Take your family and run. You need to run or you'll die before 8 p.m. tomorrow. Someone's planned to kill you!"
"Slow down, what's going on?! What do you mean by someone trying to kill me?!"
"I'll explain everything, but please—run now!"
The line cut.
And just like that, her life flipped.
She remembered turning toward Adams, her husband, as he entered their room. Her voice shook when she told him. He didn't hesitate—not for a second. His instincts kicked in. He packed what he could and told her they'd leave before dawn.
But dawn never came.
That night, a man in all black leather had broken into their home.
It was quick.
Loud.
Violent.
Adams shoved her behind the curtain, eyes blazing with one last command—"Run. I'll buy you time. Go!"
She didn't want to.
She couldn't.
But her unborn child…
Gunshots rang out like thunder cracking the sky.
And her world shattered.
She pressed her trembling hands to her mouth as she watched, hidden in the dark, while her husband took two bullets to the chest—protecting their home.
His eyes found hers in the shadows just before he fell.
Silent.
Still.
Gone.
Alison's legs couldn't carry her fast enough. She clutched her belly, heart torn in two, as she ran across the cold streets barefoot. She didn't look back. She couldn't.
Everything—their documents, their accounts, the house, their cars—meant nothing now.
Her life was the only thing left to save.
She reached the bridge, gasping for breath, and turned when she heard tires screeching. Headlights flared behind her. A black car. The same man was driving—now chasing her like prey.
She had seconds to choose: die by his hands or vanish.
Without thinking, she leaped.
The cold ocean swallowed her scream.
*****************
Present Day
A loud knock startled her out of the memory. Alison gasped softly, eyes darting around the sterile room.
It was Kelvin.
He came in with a small bowl of fruits and that usual boyish grin.
"Mama, you okay? You looked miles away," he asked, sitting beside her.
"I'm here," she whispered, blinking away tears. "Just... remembering."
She smiled faintly, but inside her heart ached like it had just been broken all over again.
And somewhere deep in her bones… she knew something was wrong with Rose.
She just didn't know what.
But she would find out.
Even if it meant uncovering truths buried beneath 23 years of lies, blood, and silence.
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