AMARA'S POV
The morning sun poured through the tall windows of our hotel suite, spilling soft light over the sleek marble floor. I stood in front of the mirror, brushing through my hair as I adjusted the thin gold chain around my neck.
Singapore was already alive outside, I could hear it faintly from where I stood. Car horns. Laughter. The hum of a city that didn't know the meaning of stillness.
It was strange, really — after days of business meetings, I'd forgotten what calm even felt like.
When I stepped out of the closet, Alexander was at the desk, sleeves rolled up, his iPad angled just right for a video call. His brother, Lucas, was on the screen, all effortless charm and ease — the complete opposite of the man sitting across from him.
"…so I told them to move the deadline, not cancel the deal," Lucas was saying, his tone relaxed, smile easy. Then he saw me. "Ah, there she is. The famous Mrs. Voss."
I blinked, half-surprised. "Lucas. Good morning."
"Good morning?" He grinned. "It's a perfect morning now. You're glowing. Did Alex finally take a day off from being miserable?"
I laughed before I could stop myself. "Unfortunately, I don't think that's possible."
Lucas leaned back in his chair onscreen, pretending to sigh. "Pity. The world deserves to see my brother smile more than once a decade."
Alexander shot him a glare sharp enough to kill. "Lucas—"
But Lucas wasn't done. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm just saying she's making you look human, and I mean that as a compliment."
I smiled lightly, smoothing my dress — a soft, flowy cream color that felt too light for business but perfect for wandering. "You're far too kind."
Lucas chuckled. "No, just honest."
Alexander turned his gaze back to the iPad, voice clipped. "Don't you have a company to run?"
Lucas shrugged. "Don't you have a wife to compliment?"
I bit back another laugh. "He doesn't do compliments. They might ruin his reputation."
For a moment, Alexander's eyes flicked toward me — calm, unreadable, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't a smile, but it wasn't pure ice either.
He looked back at his screen. "Lucas, some of us actually work. Unlike you."
"Right, right. Work. Pretend I didn't just watch you soften for two seconds," Lucas teased.
I shook my head, amused, reaching for my small white purse. "I'll leave you two to your brotherly banter. I'm heading out."
Lucas perked up immediately. "Exploring Singapore?"
"Yes," I said, sliding my phone into the bag. "You've been here before?"
"Plenty of times," he replied. "Go to Gardens by the Bay — it's like walking through a dream. And if you have time, check out Haji Lane. The colors there are insane."
"That sounds perfect," I said warmly. "Thank you."
Alexander's tone cut through the air. "Lucas."
Lucas just grinned. "Relax, brother. She's not eloping. She's sightseeing."
I turned to Alexander, who was watching me now with that same unreadable expression — the one that looked like worry disguised as indifference.
"Don't get lost," he said finally.
I tilted my head slightly, lips curving. "You already told me that."
His eyes held mine for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. "Then don't make me repeat it."
I smiled faintly, a silent truce. "I won't."
Lucas's voice came through the screen again. "She's tougher than you think, Alex. Let her breathe."
Alexander ignored him completely. "You're late for your meeting."
"Yeah, yeah. Bye, Amara," Lucas said with a small wave. "Send me a photo from the Gardens."
"Will do," I replied, already heading for the door.
Alexander's voice followed, low and even. "Be back before noon."
I paused, hand on the handle. "Yes, Mr. Voss."
He gave me a look that could've meant anything — irritation, amusement, or something deeper he'd never admit.
Then I left.
Singapore was everything Lucas promised — beautiful, alive, endless.
The sky was a pale blue canvas streaked with gold as I walked through Gardens by the Bay. The Supertrees towered above me like something out of a dream, their vines shimmering in the sunlight. I took pictures — too many, probably — of every flower, every curve of the skyline.
From there, I wandered toward Marina Bay Sands, where the reflection of the city danced across the water. I stopped at a café for iced coffee and let myself breathe — truly breathe — for the first time in weeks.
It felt strange and freeing to be alone, to not feel like I had to measure every breath or watch every word.
Then I wandered through Chinatown, charmed by the narrow lanes and bursts of red lanterns overhead. I laughed quietly as an old vendor insisted I try his handmade trinkets.
For hours, I was just me.
No contracts. No cold stares. No Alexander Voss in my head.
Until everything went wrong.
It happened in the span of a heartbeat.
I was walking toward the market exit when something tugged at my shoulder. I turned — but my bag was gone.
A boy, maybe ten at most, sprinted through the crowd, clutching it tight.
"Hey!" I shouted, breaking into a run.
He darted into a narrow side street, quick as smoke. I chased him, heels clicking against the pavement, adrenaline burning through my veins. He turned again, deeper into an alley, and I followed without thinking.
The noise of the market faded behind me.
Then I saw them.
Seven men.
They stood around the boy like a pack — broad, rough, eyes cold. He dropped the bag and disappeared behind them.
"Guess she followed you," one said, stepping forward with a smirk.
My pulse spiked. "Give me the bag."
Another man laughed, low and sharp. "You think we're after your bag?"
The air shifted.
Panic clawed at me, but I didn't move. I couldn't show fear.
"Don't touch me," I warned. My voice trembled — only a little — but they heard it.
The first man grinned. "Oh, we'll touch."
He reached out, and instinct kicked in. I caught his wrist and twisted hard — he yelped, stumbling back. Another lunged, and my knee slammed into his ribs.
I swung the bag strap like a whip, catching a third across the jaw. My heart hammered, but I didn't stop.
"Stupid—" one hissed, grabbing me from behind.
I slammed my elbow back, broke free, and spun. But there were too many.
Rough hands grabbed my arms, my hair. My breath came out as a strangled scream before someone struck me hard across the side of the head.
Everything blurred.
The last thing I heard was one of them muttering, "Should've minded your own business, sweetheart."
Then — darkness.
When I came to, my head throbbed like it had been split open.
The room was dim, the air thick with dust. My wrists were tied behind me, ropes cutting into my skin.
My bag lay ripped open on the floor. My phone was gone.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Then something inside me — instinct, maybe anger — snapped.
No panic. Not yet.
I twisted, pulling against the knots until one loosened. My breath hissed through my teeth, but I didn't stop until the last rope gave way.
I stood shakily, scanning the place. Bare walls. Broken window. Rusted chair. And then — a payphone.
They actually left a payphone.
"Idiots," I whispered.
I searched my skirt pocket — and there it was. A coin. Small, bent, but real.
I didn't even think. I just dialed.
The number burned in my memory before I realized I'd memorized it at all.
It rang once. Twice.
Then —
"Voss."
Just his voice — calm, clipped, and yet… something else.
"Alex," I whispered.
Silence. A long, deadly silence. Then — "Amara, where the hell are you?" His tone was sharp, full of control that cracked at the edges. "You missed the flight—"
"Help."
Just that one word. Barely a breath.
But I knew he heard it. Because the air on the other end went still.
And that silence — that cold, terrifying silence — was the sound of Alexander Voss unraveling.